Marathon: 3 weeks to go

Oh, what a difference a week makes!

I wouldn't have believed it if you had told me, but this week's 20-miler was actually *easier* than last week's horrific 14-miler. I completed it at an average pace of 9:52, just slightly faster than my target race pace of 10:00, which was a pleasant surprise. I was able to hit this average pace mainly because I busted out the last two miles at 8:56 and 8:30, so a race pace of 10:00 is probably right about the proper target for an additional 6 miles.

I was grinning when I finished. I felt good, strong, happy, and very proud of myself. I knew I could do another 6 miles if I had to. E commented that I looked much better than I did at the end of last week's long run. Plus, there was no nausea, nor any need to drop to my knees after the shower. Instead of needing to go home and eat away from the burrito joint, I was able to go to a friend's and enjoy a huge girls' champagne lunch. (Yes, not ideal, I know...but you think I'm gonna miss 4 of my closest girl friends and frittata, raspberry bread pudding, salami, cheese, cornbread, roasted chicken salad, capers and shrimp, papaya, an assortment of berries and dark chocolate paired with great conversation and sparkling wine? If you do, you have not been reading this blog very long. I love to run, and want to recover from my long run, but not so much that I'd miss out on fun like that, please!)

So for those that care, here's my analysis of all the things that were different between the last two weeks' long runs to help me understand my training and recovery:

The mid-week runs
This past week, I did all of the training on my schedule this week on exactly the days assigned, at or below race pace (this was probably a bit too intense, but it was my last hard week of training before taper and I was out of shape, so I felt that it was worth the risk). Before the 14-miler, in contrast, I'd rearranged about two week's worth of runs to fit the holidays and work, had done all of the ones I could fit in at very slow paces, had battled a cold and missed several miles, and only allowed myself 5 days between the previous long run of 16.5 and the 14-miler.

Fuel
This run, I stayed true to my favorite gu flavors: vanilla bean (mile 8) and espresso love (mile 14). Chocolate and I do not get along. I also swung back by the house for a half-glass of gatorade after mile 6.

Hydration During The Run
Last run, I took a walk break for at least two ounces of water at every 2 mile mark, except after the gu, where I waited to mile 8.65. This run, I took a walk break for water at miles 2 and 4, stopped for gatorade and to lose the jacket at mile 6, and had an ounce or two of water at every mile after ingesting the gu (miles 8-20) instead of waiting to the 2-mile marks.

Walk Breaks & Pacing
Probably the biggest difference between the two was this: I took it relatively easy 'til mile 12 of the 20-miler, at which point I started to slowly decrease my pace to well below my target race pace. In contrast, I tried to hit race-pace almost immediately on the 14-miler and had trouble maintaining it.

For the 14-miler, I did my standard .25 mile walking warm-up before the first mile at 10:13, and then then mile 2 at 9:46 and mile 3 at 9:39. I tried to maintain 10-15 seconds below race pace for every mile and took walk breaks at every 2 mile mark (except 8.65 instead of 8). This meant the 14-miler was roughly 7 2-mile chunks with a walking warm-up and cool-down that didn't count toward the mileage.

For the 20-miler, I started jogging as soon as I left the house instead of walking (I didn't want to add any extra distance, even .25 miles). In exchange, I told myself I could do the first few miles as slow as I wanted to warm up -- so I did miles 1-2 at 10:22, with mile 3 at 10:26.

I decided to view the 20-miler in chunks: a slow 6-mile warm-up ending back at my house to get rid of some layers and take in some gatorade. 2 miles at race pace and then some gu. A 10-k at slightly below race pace. More gu. Another 10-k at slightly faster than the last one. The benefit that I saw to this plan was that the marathon would be just one more gu stop and another 10-k.

Another benefit that I hadn't considered was that after taking walk breaks at miles 2, 4, 6, and 8 I didn't take any additional walk breaks except at mile 14 when I had more gu. Instead of 10 walk breaks, I only took 5. This meant my overall pace was faster even though my running pace was slightly slower for most of the miles.

The Pre-Run Routine
The night before the 14-miler, I had angry pasta, wine, tea, water, a few squares of dark chocolate and went to bed early for about 11 hours of sleep (as an aside, I've been needing much more sleep than normal these last few weeks of training). The night before this run, I had Tuscan bean soup, water, tea, more water, more tea, a few squares of dark chocolate and, just before bed, I had half a package of chocolate graham crackers with more water. Both nights I did mild stretching before sleep.

I like to run on an empty stomach with nothing but gatorade and/or coffee/water. The morning before the 14-miler I drank at least a liter of gatorade. Before the 20-miler I had a glass (10 oz?) of gatorade.

I started the 20-miler at 8:20 AM, after 8.5 hours of sleep. Because I started early, I was done with the 20-miler at 11:40 AM or so in time to stuff my face for lunch. For the 14-miler, I waited 'til around 11:00 to start and thus, wasn't able to eat anything other than the chocolate gu (which didn't agree with me) 'til around 3:00 PM.

I think the 18-hour fast between the end of dinner and the end of the 14-mile run is largely responsible for some of the nausea and muscular discomfort of the 14-miler. In contrast, thanks to the late snack and early start, I had only gone just slightly over 12-hours between my last substantive meal and the end of the 20-miler. I'm not sure what to think about the fact that I had a couple of glasses of wine before the bad run and none before the good one. In the past, I've run some of my fastest races after dinner including a glass or two of wine and as long as I had enough hydrating liquids along with the wine I haven't noticed much of a difference. That being said, given how great I felt on the 20-miler, I think I'll avoid wine the night before the marathon just to be safe.

Recovery
While I felt worse immediately after the 14-miler, I definitely slept worse after the 20-miler. Last night, I woke multiple times to an anxious body full of various mild pains. I'm much more sore today than I was the day after the 14-miler. I can only imagine the level of cellular repair that must be going on in my body right now. Thankfully, E bought me a massage for today, so I should feel much better shortly. Regardless, I am prepared for a very fitful night of sleep after the marathon and a very sore few days that follow.

The good news is, I am officially in taper. It's all downhill from here 'til the big day!

Say Cheese!

In a fitting continuation of the Californian Celebration of the week, I can heartily recommend that you all go try:

San Joaquin Gold.

$10 for a big old chunk of the wheel. 16-month aged cow's milk cheese. Salty. Sharp. Somewhere between fontina and manchego in terms of taste with a nice dry but not too-dry aged parmigiano texture -- excellent for ribbon grating over home-made Tuscan bean soup, if I do say so myself.

If I was blind-folded I'd guess Spain or Italy as the Country of origin. But no. California. Despite the naysayers, and its history of shoddy product, the heart of the San Joaquin Valley can make artisanal food products that rival Europe in quality (and kick its ass in price (after importing)). And when it does, we should all embrace it!

Enjoy!

A California Moment

Sometimes I forget what a fabulous State this is.

Yesterday, I was reminded, yet again.

Thanks to Miss E. I was invited to an evening at a spa, restaurant, and lodge. Upon arriving, we enjoyed the sunset, some wine, a hot tub, and entirely too much fabulous conversation before drifting off to sleep. I was so very glad that I made it a priority to take her up on her offer and so thankful that she made it.

But the gratitude hit me with full force before I even saw her. I left work a wee bit before the normal leaving time, and it felt good. Within 30 minutes, my shoulders relaxed and my breathing deepened as my body sensed the luxury of vacation all the while twisting the steering wheel on the winding roads through farmland. Within 38 minutes, I could see the coast and the crashing surf stretching for miles. And at approximately 3/4 of an hour, I realized that this was my life. I love the ocean. Thus, I should, nay, I must, stop and visit one of the several gorgeous, empty, beaches.

So, I did.

I pulled over.
I stopped the car and took up two of the closest parking spots to the beach entrance.
I got out and climbed the dune in my work clothes (boots with heels included).
I took pictures of the setting sun.
I grabbed a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers.
I realized I was grinning like a fool.
I felt so alive. And rich.

The treasure of a blindingly beautiful 65 degree sunset along the Californian coast just seems too precious to be available to me whenever I want to take the time to enjoy it. And yet, there I was.

All I had to do was leave work, drive, and stop.

Fashion

I think the metamorphosis is complete. I'm finally at a point in my life where I'm paying some attention to fashion. It's been a long time coming. Just ask my friends and family.

I've always had strong opinions about practicality of clothes. Stupidity of clothes and accessory trends. Value in well-made pieces to be worn or used as accents. But it's taken me quite some time to mesh my opinions with the reality that even choosing not to act is an action. And inaction in fashion, well, it's like inaction in many things. It shows.

Recently, within the last few years or so, I've had to accept that fashion plays a bigger role in society than I wanted to admit. To show up poorly dressed IS a statement. At worst, it's a big raised middle finger. At best, it's a silent scream of, "I don't have to care about your concept of well-dressed, because my reputation, skills, connections, etc. are enough to speak for me."

I always wanted to be making NO statement with my appearance. I always wanted the things I considered to be my strongest attributes to be the ones that made the impression. When I finally admitted that I was going to be (and had been) making a fashion statement with my attempt at a non-statement I started to acquire nice quality fashionable pieces and coordinate them into a wardrobe that fit my fashion personality.

Where I am going with all of this?

Well, tonight I broke down and spent $70 on socks. That's right. Socks. Despite the last few years of slowly building a somewhat decent wardrobe and shoe collection, I never purchased socks. In fact, I think I may never have really purchased socks other than work out socks in my entire life. The only non-workout socks I ever had were gifts.

So, I follow my traditional practical pattern and wear what's clean and won't be needed for other activities, which means the workout socks (ooohhhh... new Balegas from E for Christmas) are off limits for work, and I'm stuck wearing the occasional nice stockings (when circumstances require it) but mainly knitted socks that I haven't thrown out from high school on, with the largest portion made up by the Christmas sock collection given to me by JayKay, circa 1996-98.

See, even back then, JayKay, a true fashion-lover and wonderful person who understands the connection between looking good, feeling good, and being great, knew I needed sock fashion help.

And today, my friends, I finally gave in.

To Evolution!

Marathon: 4 weeks to go

Well, folks, this should be interesting. Today, I did my scheduled 14-mile long run at just slightly slower than my target race pace (I was targeting 10-minute-miles for a pleasant experience in my first marathon, and did today's 14 at a painful 10:12). This was the first long run I'd done at race pace since December 9th. Back then (we shall refer to this as "BA," or before Atlanta), I easily did 15 miles in the hills of San Francisco at a 9:49 pace.

For all the runs between December 9th and now, however, I'd been loafing. And, to be honest, I let the world's worst cold and my laziness combine to the point of not ever getting out the door, so much. So, my weakly (sic) mileage totals in the last three weeks have been between 1.5 to 13 miles short of the already very-light for marathon training goals. This translated into easier and slower long runs over the last 3 weeks in order to ensure I hit the distance goals. I had read enough to know one thing -- the certain way to screw yourself in marathon training is to cheat on your long runs.

Today, I could find no more justifications for taking it easy on my long run. I was home, with no major responsibilities more important than my workout plan. I'd slept 11 hours. It was a gorgeous clear day at 65 degrees. It was a step-back week which meant my long run was shorter than last week's and much shorter than next week's. So I set out with the goal of trying to maintain race pace and using this run to gauge just how far I'd fallen in terms of my training.

Keeping to race pace was DIFFICULT. There was no way I could attain the 11 seconds faster pace I'd set back in early December. The Gu at mile 7 seemed to help, like it usually does, so I did an easy 9:45 and 9:44 mile for 8 and 9. Unfortunately, instead of taking my typical water break 2 miles after the gu, I decided to press on for another .85 because I was behind and I knew there would be a mandatory break in my run at the freeway overpass. Bad idea. Stomach upset!

100 feet before my Garmin beeped mile 14, I had to sprint (Okay, I had to move fast enough that the cars would know I was trying to hustle, but it wasn't even close to a sprint, more like a hobble) across a stoplight before it changed to red.

An eternity later, when the watch beeped mile 14, instead of feeling relief at being done, felt like I needed to puke. Badly. Like I was looking around at my neighbors' yards to find the least noticeable place to do the deed. Also, I was thinking, "holy shit, I think I'm going to do 12 more miles at this pace?"

Thankfully, the cool down walk calmed my stomach and I was too tired to think about the actual distance of a marathon. When I got home, I thought I was in the clear, and made plans to go grab food with E after I got clean. But, I underestimated the effect of the hot shower (okay, I like them scalding...). I was shaky. Much too shaky. No time to condition the hair, I think I'm gonna...

This, my friends, would explain how I found myself, 2 minutes after I started my shower, naked, dripping, and taking deep breaths into my bedroom carpet in child's pose.

Eventually, I was able to stand and collect myself. Shortly thereafter I was able to go to one of the local burrito joints and order carne asada tacos. But, I had to leave when another round of nausea hit as I looked at the various meats in sauces (the same ones that usually make me drool with anticipation). We took our food to go.

I am happy to report that I was able to gobble my food with no problem and have felt fine since. But, just in case, I've been taking it easy on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, with cups of tea, People magazine, and Runner's world. Those loafing instincts from the languid South die hard, I tell you.

What have I learned from today?

1. The whole training and untraining thing isn't a joke.

2. Chocolate Gu is no longer welcome on my long runs. But, a water break for at least the first two 10 minute periods after the gu are.

3. I will more than likely need to set a new race pace goal if I want the Marathon to be a pleasant experience. (More info after next week's 20-miler.)

4. Losing the majority of the weight I gained in Atlanta helped with muscle pain between last week's 16.5 miler and today's 14 miler but the increased speed today caused way more immediate discomfort after the run than the increased weight last week.

5. I re-verified that if I'm just too out of shape to finish my first marathon while enjoying it, I'll drop out, finish the half and do a different one a month later. There are two options and both are still open for registration.

6. Finally, thanks to runner's world, I learned that Lance Armstrong thinks completing a Marathon is 10-times more difficult than riding a Tour de France. Also, his longest long run was 13 miles (not 16, like he told the press) and couldn't complete a 25-minute training run due to shin splints 3 weeks before the race. So, I'm thinking if Lance can pull out a sub-3 NYC marathon, then I may be able to pull it together to just finish sub-5.

Dead Sexy

That severe head cold that everyone you know has?

Me too. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, more sniffling, headache, more sniffling, can't sleep, couldn't run this AM due to the combo of the cold and the rain outside (can't really do a nose this runny on the treadmill).

But wait, there's more.

I also have a gigantic sty in my right eye.

Awesome.

It Was Worth It

In case you were wondering, 10 days in the South for the holidays will result in approximately a 5% weight gain. That's right. 0.5% per day. About 200 days and I could double myself. Incredible.

But, as the title states, it was worth it. I can honestly say that I have never had 10 consecutive similarly culinarily amazing days in a row, including stints living in France and in Italy (no doubt because I was never hosted by in-laws there...).

December 23rd, we arrived late, assuming we'd make due with the snack boxes, only to be taken out to delicious French food where I had a light 4 course dinner. The trend continued throughout the trip.

December 24th, we started to enjoy what will henceforth be known for eternity as "the bacon christmas." Bacon sandwiches for lunch. Baked okra with bacon for dinner, on the side of beef tenderloin and green beans with bacon, of course.

Christmas breakfast? Grits fried in butter (DELICIOUS!), bacon, scrambled eggs, homemade bread and homemade blackberry preserves. Not that different from my childhood, except I'd never experienced fried grits before and was uneducated in the manner in which they can a) expand in your stomach; and b) turn you into an addict.

Christmas dinner? Tur-duck-en and all the fix'ns (including bacon brussel sprouts stuffing) with 3 other families. Bigger and more dressed up than what I'm used to. More hand-shaking and polite table talk. But, in general, almost the same as home and the food...Mmmmmm.

Midnight Christmas snack? That one generally takes the form of the best leftovers available and this year was no different. So E and I enjoyed midnight fried grits, bacon (duh!), and beer while watching For Your Eyes Only. Double-O-7-days of Christmas is one of my favorite things about Christmas in the South. I have no idea if its available nationwide, but I'd never experienced it 'til I came to visit, so I associate it with this part of the Country.

The day after Christmas we ate brunch with friends at a delicious, (but much too cool for the likes of us) cafe, then, we went out for another 4 course meal. This one was surpisingly expensive (one of the great things about leaving our hometown for other towns in the US is the lower cost of living just about everywhere other than NYC. Turns out, the expense came from the California wine). Apparently, we're spoiled here. Either, people in the South don't think much of paying $17/glass for what I consider a reasonably priced mid-level California Pinot, or, we should have asked how much the house pinot was before we ordered it. 3 glasses later, we we surprised at the $50 increase in the bill.

The next day, after a lunch of with E's parents at piebar pizza, which isn't exactly light, we met up with E's family for a delicious, but overly-big-portioned meal at newly-opened place-to-be-seen Trois. We all agreed the food was amazing, just too much. Note, E wasn't a huge fan of the super-cool ambiance. I really liked it. I suspect we may differ due to the complimentary pink sparkling wine upon seating -- not really E's thing.

So, there we were, December 28th, both of us visibly fatter in just 5 days, me, despite my continuing marathon training. Believe it or not, we had no food plans for the 28th. So, we did what any self-respecting Southerner who's left town and finds themself back in their old stomping grounds would do--we had an impromptu lunch of authentic pulled pork barbeque with the requisite fried sides and then a few hours later, we had dinner of all the holiday leftovers at E's parents. Mind you, I indulged in two desserts that night: sticky toffee pudding with sauce, AND bourbon ice cream. Seriously, how could you not love this place?

December 29th, we had a lunch that escapes my memory, but I can guarantee there was lard. And, for dinner, we had the best meal, food-wise (and the company was great as well -- E's best man and his wife), that E and I enjoyed in 2006. Bacchanalia. I can not rave enough about this meal. Amazing flavor, texture and wine combinations. Great service. Wonderful cheese tray. Innovative between-course (I refrained from saying inter-course, aren't you proud?) palate cleansers. Perfect portion sizes (except the extra oysters they gave me because we were one of the last seatings, wahhhh...). Excellent wine paring. I am interested to see how the whole experience compares to French Laundry, which E and I have reservations to enjoy in a few weeks (yeah, it's gonna be all celery and water 'til then if I want my clothes to fit...)

Anyways, I think you get the idea. It was gluttonous caloric mayhem. Rest assured there were more meals of pork, (most including bacon), beef, fried, and, of course, the required visits to both Chick-Fil-A and Waffle House. E always complains that no one in California knows how to make proper hash browns, green beans, okra, etc. I'm thinking that's not a bad thing. Perhaps proper hash browns and the like should be a vacation only activity...

Regardless, I can't recommend it enough. I feel so full with happiness. Nurtured. Loved. The only drawback was how much more difficult my long run was today...

2006: My year In Books

I think you can learn quite a bit about a person based on what they read. So, here's a test of that theory by looking at myself in book form for the year:

1. Perfectly Reasonable Deviations from the Beaten Track (Michele/Richard Feynman)
2. Harvests of Joy -- How the good life became great business (Robert Mondavi)
3. On the road with Charles Kuralt (Charles Kuralt)
4. The Tomato in America -- Early History, Culture, and Cookery (Andrew F. Smith)
5. The High Tech Start Up (John Nesheim)
6. All the Pretty Horses (Cormac McCarthy)
7. Hard Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World (Haruki Murakami)
8. The Ultimate Kauai Guidebook (Andrew Doughty)
9. Kauai Trailblazer (Jerry & Janine Sprout)
10. Deep Lie (Stuart Woods)
11. Running With Scissors (Augusten Burroughs)
12. Lipstick Jungle (Candace Bushnell)
13. Flatland: A romance of Many Dimensions (Edwin A. Abbott)
14. I'd Rather Laugh (Linda Richman)
15. The Year of Magical Thinking (Joan Didion)
16. Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul (Canfied & Hansen)
17. Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories that Heal (Rachel Naomi Remen, MD)
18. The Elegant Gathering of White Snows (Kris Radish)
19. Nigella Bites (Nigella Lawson)
20. Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen (Julie Powell)
21. Why Marriages Succeed or Fail (John Gottman, Ph.D.)
22. The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work (John M. Gottman, Ph.D)
23. Quick & Easy (Martin Yan)
24. Vineyards in the Sky: The Life of Legendary Vintner Martin Ray (Eleanor Ray/Barbara Marinacci)

What does this say about my year? Well, I see more than 2 books each on food, travel, wine, mourning, guilty-pleasure chick-lit, and marriage. These main themes are rounded out with singular books devoted to the spicey random additions that struck my fancy including math, physics, espionage, cyberpunk, classic literature, entrepreneurship, and one of this year's NYT best-seller memoirs of a neurotic family.

Yup, that's a fairly good summary of where my spare brain cycles for the year were spent, whether reading or otherwise.

(Reviews for some of the books here and here).

Cyclorama-rama

The United States may be one country, but there are regional differences in culture that make natives of one region slightly out of sorts in others.

I love the warm welcome, the open arms, the fattening comfort food, and the languid lifestyle of the South. It's perfect for a holiday. But it's also almost confusing. Almost. That's right. Because half of the weirdness is the comfort. Everything feels just like home. But it's just slightly different.

People are more gentle here. They don't directly address conflict, they prefer to hint at it and smooth it over before it bubbles to the surface.

What do I mean? Well, the best examples I can describe are all rooted in subtle linguistic differences. First, there's the accent, which I, of course, have been picking up despite my best efforts. The mouth is more open. The speech is much slower. People pause between sentences and rarely interrupt each other. They stop and talk as if they have all the time in the world.

Then, there's the toned down speech patterns. Nothing is certain or definite.

When you meet someone for the first time, you shake their hand and say (slowly, while looking them sincerely in the eyes), "Nice to see you." When you see them again, you do the same thing, "Nice to see you." This neatly solves my problem with the horrid memory of names and faces, so I will consider brining this particular custom back to the West with me.

Example 2: I mentioned to friends that I'd heard that some of our joint friends were planning on coming to their New Year's Party (which the joint friends had told E's sister, who told us.) E quickly interrupted me and said that we'd heard that the joint friends were going to be contacting them about the New Year's Party. This was not the literal text of what we heard, but no doubt, it is what they meant. I have spent enough time here to know that my interpretation of the direct, literal truth will offend people by conveying a message I do not intend, so I no longer pretend to understand the subtle differences. I'm just happy when E jumps in to save my hide.

When leaving a social event, you should say to everyone, "We should do dinner sometime," or "You should come visit when you are in our area." They will respond in the affirmative. This does not mean that you intend to make plans with all of these people. Rather, it is a way of expressing affection and letting them know that you like them. To fail to make some sort of overture in this direction is often an insult.

Similarly, if you actually want to make plans with someone, you must go so far as to say, "We should go to drinks tomorrow evening." "Yes, we should, that would be great." "Okay, I'll call you after dinner." This one is complex because, particularly with younger folks, it can go either way. It may mean that they will call you tomorrow night. It may also mean that they do intend to make plans with you in the near future (the message we'd convey in California with the 'We should do dinner sometime.') What is difficult for the Californian to understand, however, is that by no means have you made any plans for tomorrow night. Feel free to make other plans. No one will be offended or consider you a flake.

The list goes on. I'm slowly learning my way around what at first glance seems exactly like the culture I'm at home in.

Towards that end, E and I've been visiting all the local sights to fully immerse me. Today's trip was to the Cyclorama. E wanted to take me as a joke because he remembered it as something incredibly lame from his school fieldtrip days. Little did he realize, it would be my favorite attraction thus far. It's so Southern, and so absolutely different from anything I've ever seen in my life that it resonated with me.

This place is different from home. It's great. I like it more with each visit and am learning to love it. But, the South has its own strong culture and a Californian default view will occasionally get you into trouble.

I imagine that's true for just about any two regions in this country with their own cultures, I just never experienced this level of foreignness in a place that was within the borders of my own country. I imagine it's because all of my other visits to regions of the U.S. have been just that, visits. But, I married into family in the South, so I'm having to learn how to behave like I belong. It's more work than I expected. But it's fun.

Winter Solstice Happiness

It's the shortest day of the year. For someone like me, who loves sunlight, the fact that there will be more sunlight each day for quite some time is a cause for celebration.

Plus, I've got all sorts of little things to celebrate:

E and I went to our local sushi joint (where we are known and get gift sushi) for dinner tonight. It was great to have a date with the husband. Then, as we were leaving the hostess/owner gave us hugs and wished us a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I don't know what it is, but something about the local restaurant owner giving you a hug for the holidays just really makes the world seem like a wonderful place.

For the last week, more of my mail has been personal cards from people I know than either bills or junk mail.

I left work at 5:30 today and talked to one of my best friends for over an hour, a luxury in which I hadn't indulged for at least 2 weeks.

One of the partners I work for took back one of my projects so that my winter holidays won't be spent working.

Tomorrow morning, the weather genie claims it will be neither raining, nor below freezing, for my run.

Mean People

Tonight, I left a ton of work (which I like) to attend a social event where I was surrounded by people, who frankly, treated me like crap.

They made fun of me in a language they knew I sort of spoke. It was this odd test of politesse...I'd made the apparent faux pas of speaking their native language poorly so they were going to talk shit about me in it and dare me to admit that I was eavesdropping. Surprised at their rudeness, I declined to take the bait.

Later, in English, they made self-deprecating comments comparing themselves to aspects of my life I'd mentioned earlier only exaggerating what I'd mentioned and saying things like, "of course, I couldn't possibly compare to the cultural greatness of your highness over here..."

The worst part? I really have no idea what I did. But clearly I offended these people. Granted, they were quite drunk.

But still... I wasn't too fond of being the butt of their jokes for over 2 hours. I had the last straw when one of them asked me in a snide voice, "I hope you aren't getting up before dawn tomorrow to run? That's horrid. Of course it does help with the alcohol, doesn't it? [Insert knowing look]"

I silently observed the person make this comment to try to figure out what they were saying. I'd mentioned that I'd been up at dawn to run to compare the frigid temperatures that we'd all be experiencing and someone had commented on, not to try to impress people or say that I get up earlier than anyone else or to go on some holier than thou I work out more than thou train -- to make conversation. Furthermore, it's common knowledge that I'm a slow runner. I honestly feel no need to even try to compete in that realm. So I couldn't quite figure out the gist of the comment.

But I'd also only had 2 glasses of wine, the second of which I hadn't quite finished. So the alcohol basis for the comment made no sense as well.

After a bite of dessert to compose myself, I asked what they meant and they said, "I meant no offense, I just saw your necklace and heard you say you got up and dawn and figured you must be an 'athlete' you know, a *professional runner.* [sly grin] Before I could even start to get annoyed, they followed up with, "and I don't want to talk to you anymore." At which point, they turned their back to me.

I'm not kidding.

I seriously was told, "I don't want to talk to you anymore" by the person sitting to my right at a dinner party, who then turned their back to me.

Needless to say, I made a small scene by quickly and somewhat quietly leaving. I told people it was a pleasure to meet them and got a few knowing glances. One went so far as to shake his head affirmatively after he asked, "you're not going are you?" and I said, "I fear I've offended some people." That's when I got the affirmative head shake.

I'm not in the habit of offending people (without intending to do so, anyways...)
And, I am quite agitated by the whole experience.

Why would people choose to pick on me like this? It's such a terrible feeling to realize you probably did something that really made someone hate you. I want to go back in time, to examine the whole evening in detail and to apologize for anything I could have done. But, no.

E tried to cheer me up by pointing out that one of the perpetrators was peeing publicly outside the event as he left. I'd like to excuse the whole thing with alcohol, but it's not just that. Your gut knows when people intend to pick on you. And these people did. I just wish I knew why.

Oh well... C'est la vie. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sky is falling

Okay, really, it was just frozen this AM and I had to use an ice scraper to clear my windshield. What the hell? I live in California.

In other news, blogger is getting all invasive and wants me to use a gmail account to login. I think I may go on hiatus until I can figure out a migration scheme to get away from the hive mind.

The old folks do the city

It's a Saturday night. I'm home at 10:20, in my pajamas, face washed, glasses on, in front of the computer screen (which is where you can find me prior to putting myself to bed).

Friday, E & I drove back up to the city and checked into this weekend's hotel for our 4th trip to the city (granted some weren't overnight) in 6 weeks. The occasion this time? We were invited to go out out for beef in Union Square with one of my old companies for their holiday party. Of course we went! While we were enjoying dinner, one of the attendees was drunk enough to walk up to another patron at the restaurant and confirm that he was, in fact, Andrew Firestone. Always makes you feel good to be enjoying a meal in the same location as someone you know people want to emulate, but this time was nowhere near as cool as the time we were with the same crew at the same location and saw Richard Kiel (aka "Jaws" from Moonraker and The Spy Who Loved Me).

That party went on 'til 1 AM and ended in that incoherent searching for a cab, or something to do, or somewhere to go state where the entire group is looking for momentum but can't really find it and no one is quite ballsy enough to say, "uhhh...guys, looks like the night is over." Eventually, the group meandered to within walking distance of our hotel, so E and I walked to our hotel and closed down the bar with one last drink. Yeah... I had a headache this morning. I wish I could say it was because we went out like punks. But really, it was fairly mellow as far as holiday parties go. I'm just getting older.

Despite the headache, today was a productive day. We started with a delicious brunch with a friend at the least climate-controlled cafe in SOMA. From there, we did Christmas shopping and are now completely DONE! We also fit in tea tasting and purchasing: thanks to E2's gifts from china, our black, oolong, and green tea selection is fine. But we were short on herbal teas, and we are now the proud owners of violet, chrysanthemum, rose blend, and camomile herbal teas.

In a serious lapse of judgment, we'd promised to show up at tonight's holiday party with 24 cream puffs from beard papa. This required braving the traffic and people involved in the holiday shopping madness. We barely survived, but we did. We recovered with a beer and some chips at taqueria cancun. From there, we hit the holiday party and ate ourselves silly. 4 hours after arriving, we found ourselves leaving with white elephant gifts of roughly the same (okay, we got one of our own back) quality as the ones we left (read: amusing crap from Clement Street).

Tonight's holiday party was great. But we were out of there by 9 PM. (and exhausted to boot). Yeah, the next time one of the first years tries to tell me there's no difference between being a young 1st year associate and an older one, I think I'm going to puke.

That is all.

Observations

I think next year, around this time, when I'm slow on a Friday 2 weeks before the holidays, I'll enjoy it more than I did last week.

What a difference a weekend and a Monday make.

I am now staffed on enough work to keep me comfortably busy (read: billing at a 10-15% premium over goal) through New Years. Only problem is that everyone wants it done before the holidays. And, I do too... I have plans to be out of town.

I'll see you on the other side, one way or another...

Odds & Ends

Blogger forced me to migrate to blogger beta (hence the 25 hits on the feeds if you subscribe, sorry 'bout that). Blogger still exists. I can log in with my old account, but once I'm in, they just tell me to go over to beta and log in with my other account. Annoying.

Maybe now that I've actually migrated away from the desktop I built and used for 7 years to permanently using my lawschool laptop in a port replicator, I'll tag migrating the blog for my next project. Any suggestions? Seems like many of my techy friends use typepad. Why so?

Tonight, I tried to price out some flights on Kayak.com. It's my favorite travel porn site, where I can construct myriad vacations to far-away lands with imaginary money...

Only tonight, Kayak is down for upgrades. Unlike the usual boring corporate drivel, they suggested we try what their engineers find interesting, including two sites I'd never visited: gridskipper (to which I have already subscribed) and miniclip, which I will be visiting the next time I have no billable work and need a break from the self-education I try to do while waiting for the feedback that allows me to continue with my billable work.

E's comment is that Kayak must be a much smaller company than he realized. My comment is, "I hope not!"

Holiday Excess

Well, I suppose it was bound to happen.

Today, after stuffing myself silly on dim sum, I came home and got on the scale to realize that I'd actually gone above my 10-pound free-range grazing zone.

Mind you, this is while I'm training for a marathon.

Today, for example, the beautiful weather in San Francisco cooperated and allowed me to run 15 miles from the Embarcadero, through the Aquatic Park, out the pier, through Chrissy Field (making me a surprise participant in a Girls on the Run Race for a mile or so), across the Golden Gate Bridge and back. This, in turn, pushed me to complete my first 30+ mile week of 2006.

Yeah, I've got 8 weeks to go and I only now crossed the 30+ mile marker. I'm doing my own slightly modified version of a very easy marathon training program. Low Key. Turns out, I'm doing less mileage than last year, when I trained all the way through the 20-miler before it became clear that life did not intend for me to complete that marathon. I'm also able to do my long runs at a better pace. I don't know if this is because I'm a better runner or the extra rest allows me to go harder. Either way, I have no complaints.

But, perhaps the easy mileage totals are part of the problem. I think between the month of free lunches on the firm to welcome me, the choco-riffic challenge, my increased social life now that my life is fairly drama free, and the holiday goodies and parties, I've been calorically intaking as much as if I was a 200-lb male doing the mileage I wish was in good enough shape and had enough time to do.

Well, kids, let me tell you, there is nothing like feeling of pain in my hips, knees, and calves right now to set me straight. I reject the holiday excess. Or at least I'm gonna try. I declare the choco-riffic experiment done for now (perhaps some day I will make recipes 5 & 6, but clearly I don't need to do so anytime soon). Wish me luck in seeking out lighter fare between this week's planned meals of 7 courses of beef, brunch, Morton's, Triptych, and a holiday party.

See, I'd really like to actually complete this marathon. So far, it appears that life is okay with that plan too, so long as I can learn to exercise a little more moderation.

I think I'm noticing a theme in my life...

Don't call the Gods' attention to your fortune!

A long time ago, there was a little girl. She read a book about a Chinese-American girl her age that made quite an impression on her. Unfortunately, the reader-girl was bad with names (still is) and titles, unless they have some independent meaning to her.

So, the reader-girl is grown up and doesn't remember the title of the book, but she does remember that the character-girl's mom told her not to call the Gods' attention to her fortune and to always be humble lest the Gods realize that the little girl didn't actually deserve the good things she had and take them away. The little reader-girl remembered that lesson because even then, she knew she was horrid at hiding her fortune from the Gods.

She just couldn't help but be happy when she was happy. She couldn't help but announce her successes to all, assuming that they would be as elated as she would be when she heard of theirs. She craved acceptance and approval, like most young kids, but she often received it, so she never really learned to keep her mouth shut about her happiness.

Over time, the little girl grew up and learned to temper her enthusiasm in certain social circles. Not very well, mind you, but at least she could pass as less than thrilled when it was not fashionable to be excited.

Except not today. Today, I'm a real lawyer for the second day, and I *fucking* love my job. I *LOVE* it. I get paid to think about things and research them and write and answer phone calls requiring my gut response, which may get checked by a partner who knows way more than me and can tell me how many ways I was wrong, but that's cool too because I learn stuff, and, and, and....

Kids, many people hate the law. But for those of us that love it, all the hell of the LSAT, law school and the Bar Exam is worth it. I have no doubt there will be days when I hate my job, but today is not one of them. I am responsible for 5 projects for 4 clients reporting to 3 partners and I feel so useful. I feel like I'm doing what I should be doing. It's fabulous.

And, by the way, if lightening strikes me, both you and that little Chinese girl from the book know why.

Rejected

I tried to give blood today for the first time in 10 years. (Long story).

Apparently, I like to travel to exotic places that are on the do not donate list.

Cheerily, the nurse explained that I could donate just 12 months after my last visit. In response, I asked if our spring vacation destination was also listed in the binder as a no-go. Sure enough...

I was bummed. Dad was able to attend our wedding thanks to several pints of donated blood.

One of the partners at the firm jokingly tried to cheer me up by pointing out that now that I was a lawyer, I would probably not be going to exotic disease-ridden places every year.

At least I think he was joking...

Rituals: the oath

This last year has been a year of rituals for me. My papa's funeral, my wedding, graduation, my dad's funeral, and any number of smaller rituals like my gran's 80th Birthday, Fourth of July barbeques, being a guest at other people's weddings and birthdays, and more.

Today, I added one more: I took the oath to become a member of the California Bar and to become admitted to the United States Court for the Northern District of California. I am officially a lawyer.

It was more emotional than I expected. I opted to take the oath through the local bar association at a local Jesuit university. This meant the oath was administered in a Catholic church.

Oops.

I'd meant to go visit a church ever since Daddy passed away. His funeral was outdoors, as it should have been. He went through a few years of regular church attendance to support us in our religious education, but after and before that, it was not a major part of his life. So, it wasn't a major part of his funeral either. We had an ordained minister perform the ceremony, but truly, the memorable part for everyone was the memorial party afterward, not the actual funeral.

Anyways, I like churches. But I don't go on a regular basis. I'm not exactly the brand of christianity that most churches support given my focus on zen buddhism, taoism, and whatever else seems to work for me on the spiritual level. But, unlike many of my demographic, I haven't completely abandoned or rejected the idea of Church either. When I travel to foreign countries, I often go visit the local Christian church, whatever its denomination may be. Generally, I kneel and say a prayer of thanks and awe and love, and, often, I cry. If there are candles, I buy one and light it. If there's a statue dedicated to a saint, I learn about that saint and do the same. More often than not, the denomination is Catholic, which is convenient because my upbringing was 3 years of Lutheranism and several intermittent years of Catholicism mixed with random other Christian church outings.

So basically, my rare visits to churches tend to be big emotional events like Weddings, Funerals, heartfelt prayers of thanks in foreign lands, and the like. I show up ready to cry.

Today was no different. Daddy would have wanted to be there. I wanted him there. And, of course, I hadn't yet taken the time to go do my ritual at a church since his death. So, today's visit to the church was also a big emotional event.

Thankfully, the holy water was accessible to the side of the registration table. I walked through the heavy dark wood doors and took a deep breath. The church was beautiful. I crossed myself with the holy water and selected the alter in front of the saint (?) holding a baby. Unlike usual, I didn't have the church to myself and couldn't take the time to read about the saint. So, I quickly looked to the ground and said a prayer of thanks, asked for a blessing on my future life and career and a hello and good wishes to Dad.

Then, I walked outside and met E. I cried briefly, sad, but proud of myself.

In an amazing display of efficiency (which is why I opted for this ceremony over the State Bar ceremony), A and I took our seats at the front of the church, we followed a state judge and a federal judge through our oaths and 40 minutes later, we were lawyers. It felt right to share that moment with her. I noted that we were the only oath-takers I could see who hugged immediately after saying, "I will." A is yet another reason why I am thankful tonight.

Dinner was a big celebratory Italian meal at one of our local favorite restaurants. The chef was in fine form and spent quite a bit of time entertaining us. He raved about his all-vegetarian lentil soup -- apparently, it's that time of year. E and I agreed: mine won on flavor, but his won on texture. You just can't beat a perfectly puréed soup.

And tomorrow, what do you know? I will go to work for my first day as a real lawyer.

Spicy Lentil Soup

After the weekend of debauchery, E and I needed something light and healthy for dinner tonight. Also, I hadn't done the shopping for this week, so we didn't have much in the way of ingredients. I read a few recipes for lentil soup to find that I did not have the required ingredients for any of them, so I improvised, and am happy to report a success. Enjoy:

3/4 yellow onion, chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
extra virgin olive oil
1 cup lentils, rinsed
1 small can tomato paste
3 serrano chiles, chopped (left the seeds in for a super-spicy soup, your preference)
1 tsp cumin seeds, ground
1 can vegetable broth
water, as needed
sea salt
italian seasonings (literally, I have a big old container titled "Italian Seasoning" but I'm guessing any combination of oregano, rosemary, etc. will do)
1 Tbsp. white vinegar (I used rice wine vinegar, I'm guessing any light white vinegar would do)

Sautee garlic & onions in olive oil until soft. Add broth, lentils, chiles, tomato paste and cumin & bring to a boil. Lower to a simmer and stir until the tomato paste is dissolved. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, and adding water as needed (the lentils should be covered with liquid at all times) until the lentils are soft (1.5-2 hours).

Remove from heat and stir in sea salt, vinegar, & italian seasonings to taste. Serve immediately.

Happy, Happy, Happy

I am exhausted and slightly grinning. I would smile wider to accurately express my contentment, but that would require effort, and I am much too pleasantly lazy to make any.

Saturday AM, E2 and I ran a race in the hills. I did 10.6 miles and about 2000 feet of elevation change. The Garmin claims I did 5129 ft of total ascent. I guess that means there were many little hills in between the big hills. This explains my hips and shins. Last weekend I did 13 miles flat and didn't feel half as sore as I do today.

From there, we headed to the local hole-in-the-wall bar to watch Big Game, eat greasy pub food, and drink beer. We cheered. We sang. We owned the bar.

Until, that is, the entire California Gators posse showed up. Holy shit, they were serious. They had a mike man. They had flags and cutouts and everyone was in jerseys. They raffled prizes. Like us, they also sang and cheered. It was clear that it was actually they and not us who owned the bar from the moment they rolled up with the guy in a football helmet and the woman carrying the life-sized cut-out of an alligator that she placed at the entrance.

It was contagious, and we'd been given free beer for our musical performance, so we joined the crowd and cheered for the gators for a while after our game was over.

Then, we watched UCLA kill USC's chances at the rose bowl. We celebrated more.

We walked to dinner because none of us planned on being so... umm... celebratory, and truly, none of us could drive. After dinner, we sat and talked with college friends until 2 AM.

This morning, after sleeping in, we went to a Sunday breakfast where home-made sausage patties, hash browns, eggs benedict and huevos mexicanos stuffed us each to the point of excess.

And now, I will be taking my hoarse voice to lay down for a nap.

Is that the perfect weekend, or what?

If there is a conspiracy, it's complex

Barrett v. Rosenthal was handed down by the California Supreme Court on November 20th. Internet defamers rejoice! Internet republication of defamatory statements is not actionable. Doesn't matter if you have malice. (Unless it's a conspiracy to divide the creation of the content and the publication to the internet, which if you plan to do, you might want to read Judge Moreno's concurrence.)

The CA Supreme Court spent quite a few words saying, this may not be the smartest decision, but we're bound by section 230 of the CDA. Pre-emption. You know, the stuff my buddy Erwin's all about.

What struck me, however, was the line up in favor the respondent defendant. On the side of strong first amendment protections and low protections for individuals subject to internet defamation you've got:
the EFF, the ACLU, Amazon.com, Inc., America Online, Inc., eBay Inc., Google Inc., Microsoft Corporation, Yahoo! Inc., ABC, Inc., Ask Jeeves, Inc., Cable News Network LP, LLLP, Compuserve Interactive Services, Inc., Earthlink, Inc., ESPN, Inc., Netscape Communications Corporation, SBC Internet Services, Time Warner Cable Inc., The Washington Post Company, Association for Competitive Technology, California Newspaper Publishers Association, Information Technology Association of America, Internet Alliance, Internet Commerce Coalition, National Cable & Telecommunications Association, Netchoice, Netcoalition, Newspaper Association of America, Online News Association, Online Publishers Association, TechNet and United States Internet Service Provider Association.

No liability for repeating what you heard or read on the Internet. Apparently that's something EVERYONE can get behind.

Strange bedfellows make the best stories, don't you think?

Choco-Riffic Recipe #4

This one may be my favorite so far. We took it to a party, it was a hit. It was a little too crumbly the night of, but today, the leftovers... mmm... can you say breakfast, after work snack, and dessert?

Peanut Butter & Dark Chocolate Swirled Brownies

5 ounces unsweetened chocolate (chopped or shaved)
2 1/4 cups Flour
2 teaspoons Baking powder
1/2 teaspoon Salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 3/4 cup Sugar
1 teaspoon Vanilla
3 Eggs
1/2 cup smooth all-natural peanut butter
1 tablespoon Light Corn Syrup

Heat oven to 325-degrees. Butter a 13"x9" baking pan. Chop the unsweetened chocolate and melt it (40% power in the microwave for 2 minutes at a time, approximately 3 times, with stirring between works wonderfully). Combine the flour, baking powder and salt. In a large pot, melt the butter. Let cool. Stir in the sugar and vanilla. Beat in eggs one at a time. Gradually stir in the flour mixture. Divide dough in half. Stir the melted chocolate into one half and the peanut butter and corn syrup into the other.

Drop the batters by large tablespoonfuls into the pan. With a spatula, swirl/pat down the batters to marbleize. Bake until edges start to pull away from the sides of the pan, about 25 minutes. Cool completely before cutting or it will crumble too much.

Comments: next time, I think I'll actually wait 'til the butter is completely cool. This time it was still warm and I think it may have cooked the eggs a bit, leading to a very doughy dough. Alternatively, I may opt to add 1/4 cup of milk to the dough to cool it down and ensure moisture before separation.

Choco-Riffic Recipe #3

Well, Thanksgiving came and went. I made recipe #3 for Thanksgiving. Thus, I missed the self-imposed deadline of 6 recipes by Thanksgiving, but I'll keep cooking and the Scharffen Berger is still in the fridge, so there should be more happiness in the future. It'll just be the gift that keeps on giving. Longer.

Dark-Chocolate Glazed Peanut Butter Tart

COOKIE CRUST (make the night before, or at least 5 hours before to allow it to cool):

1 package sugar-coated chocolate graham crackers (1/3 of a box).
1 1/2 oz (3 Tbs) unsalted butter, melted.

Pre-heat oven to 350 F & place rack in the middle. Crumb the crackers in the cuisinart. Pour the butter over and pulse until evenly moistened. Push into an ungreased tart pan with a removable bottom (or, if you are me, and don't own one, a 9-inch pie pan). Bake until it smells nutty (10 minutes or so). Allow to cool.

FILLING:
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1/4 tsp table salt
3 large egg yolks
1/3 cup very firmly packed light brown sugar
4 tsp all-purpose flour
4 1/2 oz (1/2 cup) creamy all-natural peanut butter (only peanuts & salt)
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

Bring milk & salt to a simmer over medium heat in a medium saucepan. Whisk egg yolks, brown sugar and flour until well-blended. Slowly add hot milk, whisking constantly. Put the mixture back into the saucepan. Cook over medium heat, whisking consistently until it thickens and comes to a full boil (approx 3 minutes). Continue to cook for another minute. Remove from heat and add peanut butter and vanilla and stir until well blended. Pour into crust and spread evenly with a spatula. Cover with plastic wrap to avoid a film and freeze for at least 2 hours before glazing.

DARK CHOCOLATE GLAZE:

3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
2 oz (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
1 Tbs. light corn syrup

Mix all 3 ingredients over low-medium heat and stir constistently until the mixture is smooth (approx 1-2 minutes). Remove the plastic wrap from the chilled filling and pour the glass over the filling & spread it evenly. Freeze for 30 minutes or refrigerate for up to 12 hours. Serves 12.

Comments: So far, by popular vote, this is the best use of the dark chocolate for cooking purposes. I'd prefer the custard to be slightly firmer, but perhaps I need to bring it to a more rowdy boil before taking it off the heat. Next time...

Choco-Riffic Recipe #2

The quest to find the best use for the Scharffen Berger splurge continued for a viewing party to watch the CAL-USC game. I don't want to talk about the game. But the chocolate was good stuff.

Pecan Chocolate Squares

COOKIE BASE:
6 oz. (3/4 cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
9 oz. (2 cups) unbleached flour
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. table salt
2 oz. finely grated bittersweet chocolate (I used 3 oz. as it's a bar of the Scharf)

PECAN TOPPING:
10 oz. pecans (3 cups) toasted (I used 4 cups, they came in 2 cup bags)
1/4 lb (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/3 cup honey
2 Tbs. heavy cream
1/2 tsp. table salt

Preheat oven to 350F and put a rack in the middle. COOKIE BASE: Put the buttter in the food processor along with the flour, light brown sugar, cinnamon and salt for about 20 pulses. (If you are making this at your brother's house and he's not really the food-processor-type, then you can improvise by cutting the butter into the flour, etc. until it is well combined.) Scatter the dough into a 9-inch square baking pan and press envenly. Bake until browned (about 25 minutes). Cover with shaved chocolate and let it melt. PECAN TOPPING: While the chocolate melts, pulse pecans in food processor (or, at brother's house, crush them while still in the bag with a rolling pin or the flat side of a butcher's knife.) Melt butter in saucepan & stir in the dark brown sugar, honey, cream and salt. Simmer for a minute while stirring occassionaly. Stir in the pecans. Pour the mixture over the cookie base. Bake until much of the filling is bubbling (not just the edges). Let cool completely in the pan & cut into squares.

A few comments: While delicious, it was VERY rich and crumbly. A small square and a coffee would suffice to keep anyone with a sweet tooth quite busy. Lucky_girl thinks the structural integrity would be helped by a double batch of cookie layer. I think cooking longer (too ensure that the entire thing is, in fact bubbling) and allowing it to completely cool, perhaps overnight or in the freezer would also help.

Enjoy!

Bar: Advice & Recap

I found reading blogs of those who took the test before me to be very helpful. I also looked to the bloggers who were taking it at the same time as me for support and distraction.

Well, I've got enough distance from the stupid test that I can now compile one big summary post for those who are looking for information. So, I'll throw out the lessons I learned as a thank you to those who did the same before me.

Be Honest With Yourself

I'm fairly certain that I would have failed the test had I not been extremely honest with myself back in July. My assigned essays weren't looking very much like the BarBri sample answers. My graded essays were coming back marked FAIL. Although I didn't know much about how I was doing, the little bit of feedback I was getting said I was going to fail unless I learned to make my essays look more like what they were expecting.

I have always been the one who arrives at conclusions via a different path. This is often rewarded in life. But the bar exam grader who has 2 minutes to read my essay was not going to reward my unique thought processes. If I didn't do something differently, I was fairly certain I was going to fail. Unfortunately, BarBri does not offer any strategy on how to construct an answer that looks like everyone else's. They teach the same material, then give the same model essays as feedback, and a majority of their students fall into line. If that is you, great. Keep on the path. But, that may not be you. In fact, if you have a tendency toward intellectual curiosity, you may be in serious trouble with the bar. Intellectualy curiosity can lead you to discuss side issues that may demonstrate knowledge of the law, but not the knowledge the grader is looking for. BarBri will claim that people fail because they don't use the facts. Some people may do that. But people like me, we would fail because we use the facts too much.

Seek Other Resources

One of the main reasons, if not the number one reason this test is difficult is because of the mental warfare and mystery the CA bar and BarBri create and propogate. For example, no passing scores and tests are released. It would be very helpful for second time takers to be able to compare their failing essays against passing essays. It would be extremely helpful for those studying to compare failing essays against passing essays. But, no. It's a *mystery.* So accept that aspect of the stupid exam and recognize that you are going to have to do some work in a void, which will be very frustrating. If you, like me, even begin to suspect that barbri is not giving you enough feedback in the void, then my suggestion to you is to seek out other feedback in order to feel comfortable.

Similiarly, if your MBE scores aren't where you'd like them to be, seek out help and feedback.

Your mileage may vary, but I highly recommend the additional resources that I used to prepare for the essay portion of the bar exam:

Bar Breaker Volume 1 and 2: The last 2 weeks before the bar exam, I read the intro to each subject and outlined or wrote sample answers to every question in this book. I entertained his approach and adopted some of his methods. I found them very helpful. I completely bailed on the last half of the BarBri assigned essays. I found that many of them were assigned in these books, so overall, I probably did the majority of the BarBri assigned essays. In particular, I found these answers so ridiculously simplistic that I couldn't believe they would be passing answers. But, the sense of relief I felt after reading each question during the bar exam and knowing that I could write an answer that looked something like the ones I'd reviewed in these books was huge. I think that if you know you can write a simple answer that covers the basic law for every possible exam topic you will have the confidence and time to fill in the random other side issues that will get you extra points.

Bar Exam Survival Kit. I think if I had to prepare for the bar exam again and I was only allowed one resource, this would be the one I would choose. The last two weeks before the bar, I read and re-read the 6-8 page summaries for each topic and made certain that nothing they mentioned was missing from my issue outline/checklists. I made certain that I could recite the rules for each major area. I memorized stupid mnemonics to ensure that I could name every major sub-area for any topic. As a final step, I condensed all of my outlines into a 5 page 2-inch by 3-inch flip book of my mnemonics. This is all I used to study while at the bar exam. Every night, I'd review the mnemonics and comfort myself with the fact that I could recite every power held by every branch. I could sing a song of every single Tort and all of their elements. I could name all the constitutional limitations on powers. When I read that the call of one of the questions was the 1st Amendment, I typed the headings from my mnemonic before I read the fact pattern: state action, and then all of the various tests. I was appalled to read the question and find that they presented the issues to be addressed in the exact order of my mnemonic, which was straight from Jeff Adachi's Bar Exam Survival Kit. That question drove home the point to me. The California Bar exam is NOT a test of legal knowledge and skill. It's a test of keeping your cool, and learning enough law plus tactics to demonstrate that you can be just like everyone else who has figured out the game.

I also did every free seminar offered by Scott Pearce. I think if I had failed the bar exam, I'd hire Scott Pearce as my tutor for the second go-round. Often, while doing his seminars this summer I toyed with the idea of having him grade one of my essays for more feedback. I learned the trick of reading the call of the question and doing the big picture outline of the answer before reading the question from him. This proved to be a life-saver in helping me avoid legal side-tracking.

Know how you are going to take the test before you take it

Towards the end (last 5 days before the bar or so), I'd do 50 PMBR questions a day and outline any essay I could get my hands on to ensure that my approaches/mnemonics were available in my head and to make sure I wasn't missing any major issues. I outlined almost all of the past exams on the California Bar Website and the majority of the BarBri essays I'd put off by doing BarBreaker. This meant I'd seen and outlined many of the past questions twice before going into the exam. Turns out, the Bar repeats many of the topics it presents, so familiarity with the outline form for past exams was extremely helpful.

On several questions during the exam, I read the call, wrote the basic outline as typed headings, read the facts and filled in my sub-outline with sub-headings and rules all with a sense of deja-vu because I'd done the exact same outline, headings, and sub-headings just a few days earlier.

Don't forget to do something to stay sane

Work out. Cook/Eat. Visualize getting passing results. Visualize the act of taking the entire test. Hang out with non-law friends. Whatever it is that you need to do to get those stress hormone levels to lower. Do it regularly throughout the entire process. I found that much like visualizing a sports performance, the few minutes each week (and every morning during the last two weeks) I spent visualizing taking the test and getting passing results gave me a sense of calm during the actual test itself.

All of the bar posts

If you want to go through the whole experience with me with the random life stuff redacted, here you go:

Realizing that my Property professor didn't teach us jack shit about the real law. Bar-Blog Disclaimer. Early Bird PMBR. Discipline via self-bribery. The First Bar-Induced Freak-Out. Understanding Why. I heart Chemerinsky. Bar Dreams. Discipline. General Update. Realization that I'm Failing. Still Failing. My MBE study plan offered in exchange for essay study tips. Angry. The Game. Reciting rules on a date. Accidentally thinking I started to fail MBE's as well. Another Failed Essay. Passing my First Essay. The last BarBri Lecture. Released MBE's. The DO NOT THINK mantra. Con Law is my new least favorite subject. Lowest point in the process. Exercise. 1 week to go. In the Zone. Reality . My thoughts on the exam.

Par-TAY!

Ladies and gentleman, for the first time since 2002, tomorrow, I will be paid to spend time with family, gorge myself on turkey, and over-indulge in food and alcohol in the American Tradition.

I don't think I ever properly appreciated the beauty of paid holidays before law school. I'm not sure why. I worked before undergrad and during undergrad as an hourly employee. There must have been the first paid holiday after undergrad. But for some reason, I don't recall the same sense of joy and awe that I've had ever since leaving work at 4:45 PM today.

Weeee!!!!

Culinary Balance

If you are making a version of Bagna Cauda that calls for oil and butter, it will be deliciously rich. The cookbook that suggests serving it only with fresh, bitter vegetables (to cut the richness) makes a good point.

It makes an excellent side dish.

But, it *is* a bit much, even for those of us who profess to love grease, when it is paired with roasted potatoes in olive oil and herbs as well as linguica and pickled horseradish.

Next time, perhaps with a white bean soup or a minestrone.

Happy Birthday Dad

Today was a tough day.

Back in July, Dad flat out promised me that he wouldn't die if I went home and studied for the last two weeks before the bar. He more or less ordered me to go home with a stern look and the phrase:


I don't want to be the reason you don't pass that test.


Well, Dad. You weren't.

I know you are proud of me and I will spend the rest of my life thankful that you were so selfless with your health that you did keep your promise to me. You let me finish the stupid test and celebrate my birthday before you said goodbye. You did it on your terms and I will always be impressed by the strength of the life force you exercised until the very last magical breath that you allowed your children to share with you.

I hope you like the flowers I left you today. I looked around and saw that everyone else left their bouquets in the plastic but that seemed wrong for you so I took out the 20 roses and arranged them on the ground at the base of the feathers.

While I'm not sure how you feel about the roses, I know you loved that Garry collected the longest tailfeathers from all the pheasants that the guys at the pheasant club got yesterday and put 'em at your head.

After visiting you, E and I had headed even further towards the hills and enjoyed a big, hearty, country-style breakfast in a family-run diner with vinyl covered tables and plastic chairs after we visited the cemetery. They don't have diners like that where we live. It was nice. They seemed to know all of the patrons except us, but they welcomed us with the open but guarded glances I sometimes saw you give city-folk if you were with the hunting boys and concerned about how the mud, the guns, and the trucks were going to be received.

I ate myself silly on a portion of huevos rancheros that was fit for a big man who does physical labor for a living. There were easily 6 slabs of bacon in the stack of refried beans, fried tortillas, eggs, and salsa that made up my up-in-the-sticks-version of huevos rancheros. Damn, it was good.

Later, sister, E and I went to your favorite bar and had a few beers while playing liar's dice with the owner. They have a little shrine up for you and a stranger came over to toast you and said he missed you. It was nice. Also, the owner of the bar won at dice, which we all figured you would like. Oh, and you are winning the football pool. But you probably knew that.

Anyways, Happy Birthday big guy. We all love and miss you.

Good News

Thank you to all of you who supported me with good thoughts, well wishes, comments when I was down, emails, hugs and more.

I passed the stupid California Bar Exam.

I'm very relieved to have that portion of my life finished.

Grumpy McGrumperson on the Economics of Going to Law School

WARNING: EXTREMELY NEGATIVE CONTENT

I got an email from a recruiter today. She was looking to fill a position similar to those I held in my old life, pre-law, and must have found a VERY stale resume.

The email reminded me that I missed out on quite a bit of income to attend law school. In fact, in terms of pay per hour, I'm probably right where I started -- I'll make more as a lawyer, but I'll also work significantly more hours.

Ignore the increased hours, focus on the increased pay, add in the loans, assume I find out that I passed the bar exam tomorrow and continue in my current career, and it will still take me 7-10 years to break even, depending on the time value of money. I don't mind because I'm excited about practicing law -- I like it.

But, I don't think many people do that math before they go to law school.

The reality is, for the average liberal studies major straight out of college, missing out on the income from a $30,000-$40,000 post-undergrad job over three years (not even including raises), plus loans (which, on average, are $80,000) is a sizeable investment. That's at least $170,000. The alternative could be 3 years of a career, with a moderate social life, conservative living, investing, and possibly, a down payment on a home. Not to mention the possible background in a field that may help you land a legal job with connections to that field. If you have a specialized skillset the amount of income you are potentially giving up is even larger.

I think there aren't enough conversations about the reality of the legal market and the actual range of the pay available to people in it as well as the difficulty of finding work. I know many people who got into law for the money, only to realize the money didn't work out to be as great as they thought and they didn't even want to be lawyers. Other people get into it for the money only to realize that they aren't going to ever make the money that they thought.

Oh, and, there's the added bonus of the bar exam and possibly not being able to practice 6 months after you graduate, it might be 12 months, it might be 18 months.

Yeah, I sound like a big fat bummer on the night before California Bar Results come out. I should be more positive. But, I can't help but think that the bar wouldn't have to be such a shitty experience, nor would the pass rates need to be so low, if the people who went to law school in the first place knew what they were getting into and why they were doing it.

If some sort of dedication to the practice of law was required, perhaps a waiver stating that those applying to law school knew the practice could be low-paying and long-houred, but that they still wanted to do it. If something like that was required, there would be much less of us trying to access that stupid server tomorrow night when the verdict comes down, I'm sure of it.

All right. Enough of that. For those of us who already ran the gauntlet, let us toast ourselves. Regardless of the results tomorrow, we finished one major step on the path. And that, my friends, even if you hated every minute of it, is an accomplishment.

Results

My 1st year class is all stressed about the bar results that will become available on Friday. I'm sure, in any normal situation, I would be too.

But when people talk about the bar exam, all I can think is, Dad died 3 days after I finished taking that stupid test. It just repeats over and over in my head anytime someone asks me if I'm scared or stressed or worried about the bar exam. I'm numb to their stress. I don't share it. I'd take that stupid test a million more times and suffer the humiliation of failing a million and one times if it meant Daddy could still be here. I know I can't make that trade, but for some reason, my subconscious thinks it's reasonable to consider.

The bar really is just a test. I'm amazed at my detachment and the clarity with which I can see this. I know if I hadn't suffered as I did this summer I'd be in the same spot as my colleagues. Instead, I'm alone and empathetic for their anxiety. Sure, I'm also wrapped up in my own anxiety about what seems important to me at this moment, it's just not the test. I want to comfort them, to tell them it's not really that big of a deal. But those words sound so hollow when it is a big deal to you. So I try to stay silent, except for the occasional outburst after the 6th person explains how upset and stressed they are and someone looks at me with the compassionate head-cocked to the side, as if to say, Are you worried too?

No. My dad died. For some reason that generally ends the conversation.

This Zen-like perspective on the bar is a strange gift, but I'll take it. Thanks Dad.

Also, yesterday and today, when I can bring myself to shake the association that the stupid exam has with my loss of Dad, I think of Beanie and smile. Go congratulate her! She passed the NY bar exam after a very difficult path. She inspires me. Between her and Dad, I have this calm sense that I can and will pass the exam. The only unknown is when.

Onward.

Two Lessons Learned

1. If you accept staffing as the junior IP associate on a public merger that is scheduled to close in 5 days, you should expect to work straight through those 5 days, regardless of the silly "weekend" title.

2. If you have planned to make pumpkin gnocchi covered with elk-venison bolognese and you are late arriving home on the eve of your husband's birthday dinner due to issue #1, I suggest roasting the pumpkin at 400F for 35-40 minutes and slicing it on plates before covering it in bolognese. When push comes to shove, the time spent making the pasta by hand is the last 10% of the meal. It's the greatness. Don't get me wrong. It's the pinnacle. But when you are late enough, you have to accept that things have no possibility of reaching perfection in enough time to eat at a reasonable hour.

So the take home is that the meat sauce, that's 65-70% of the street cred right there. Don't skimp on the bolognese. Skimp on the vehicle for conveying bolognese. It will all be fine. Just open an extra bottle of wine.

Get Help If You Need It

I went to dinner last night with someone I met during my downward spiral.

She mentioned that while she didn't really know me, I had seemed a little "out of it" the last night we interacted. That would be the night before I started my 3 day crying binge. "Out of it" that night would be putting it mildly. I have never felt so helpless, lost, overwhelmed, and sad as I did during that time period.

This was my first time dealing with true depression. Before, I thought I'd been depressed, but really, I'd just had the blues. I now feel so horridly inept for all the things I ever said to people who were going through a similar experience. It was so much more overwhelming than I could have imagined before facing it. I can easily say it was the worst I've ever felt in my life. It was as if the bad feelings from the my Dad died, the day of my Dad's funeral, the day of my Grandfather's funeral, the days of bad childhood fights with my parents and every bad break-up I've ever been through all needed to be felt at the same time.

The good news is, I got help. I read books. I sought therapy. I let myself sit on the couch and cry for days on end, which is something I've never done. Apparently, I had a ton of sadness, guilt, negative thoughts and frustration that I needed to address. I even let myself be somewhat spontaneous and emotionally-driven with my career decisions. This is something I never would have done in the past. I always trusted logic and information over feelings. I thought feelings, other than love, were weak, and frankly, I trusted logic much more.

The emotional side of me rebelled and humbled me with its power and wisdom. For all the strength that I attribute to myself (which, for those who know me, strong is a word that I like to think describes me at my core), I was reduced to a sniveling, incapable, needy mess by my own emotions. So I guess that side of me is strong enough to subjugate my logical side when it needs to. It was very humbling.

But it didn't break me. The overwhelming negative feelings weren't permanent. I will still have negative feelings in the future, and I will have to face them. But the torrent released by the floodgate eventually slowed to a trickle. It forced me to make some decisions that eventually led to me being happier than I would have been had I not been emotional. And I am so thankful.

So please, if you are feeling sad, alone, overwhelmed, etc. or find yourself doing things that you feel are out of character, seek help. Nothing is permanent. This too shall pass.

For Me?

Today, on-site at a client's place of business, I had an interaction that reminded me of my not-even-remotely-politically-correct days at a few startups.


IT guy: I'm going to give you ethernet cables because I don't want to make you log into the VPN for wireless access.

BT & Male Associate: [looking up from stacks of papers] uh, okay. Cool. Thanks.

IT guy: [unwinds two ethernet cables, plugs one into the wall and tosses it on the table. Starts to unwind the second.]

Male Associate: [Plugs the cable into the back of BT's computer]

BT: oh. It goes in the back. Thanks.

IT guy: Actually, I've got a longer cable that I'd like to give to her instead.

BT & Male Associate: [Blink at each other at what may be a bad joke, but perhaps is just unfortunate phrasing. I was, after all, farther away from the ethernet jack.]

IT guy [slightly slimy voice, addressing male associate]: If you don't mind, that is.


I gotta say, while part of me is appalled, it was the most noteworthy thing that happened in my day. And, I've been laughing about it ever since. I mean, really? This stuff happens in the workplace?

Election Stew

I am embarassed to admit that I left the polling place this evening without voting.

It was chaos. They had run out of English paper ballots. 3 of the machines were down. They recommended that people go provisionally vote in nearby districts. The district in the building next door was making similar recommendations and sending people to our district. After about 30 minutes of observation and asking people who were leaving how long they had waited ("1h35 from where you are standing 'til now"), I looked at E and admitted the sad truth, "There isn't anything on this ballot that I believe in more than the stew I wanted to make for dinner."

So here you go. I'll make it next year too, only next year I'm going to remember to get my absentee ballot application in on time.

Fall Vegetable Stew

Step one: collect all the fall vegetables that are almost ready to be tossed.

2 small squash/pumpkins that were decorating the table for halloween etc. (toss 'em in the oven on broil while you make the soup base to soften the tough gourds)
1 half onion
5 cloves of garlic
olive oil
5 stalks of celery
4 yukon gold potatoes
1/2 cup pickled horseradish

Step two: make the soup base

Chop the onion. Peel the garlic. Chop the celery. Sautee all three in olive oil over medium heat until the onions are translucent. Add 1 large can of chicken broth (1 quart?). Bring to a boil and lower to a simmer.

Step three: chop autumn vegetables.

I don't think you need to be too picky here. Peel the squash & pumpkin if you like. Cut warmed & softened squash/pumpkins and remove the seeds. Chop into bite-sized pieces. I like big pieces, but E always spends the first half of the meal chopping his pieces into mini-pieces, so I'm willing to believe that there is room to disagree. Clean and chop or slice the potatoes. Same for carrots, cabbage, anything else you've got lying around that would go in stew. Toss 'em all in the broth along with the horseradish.

Step four: season to taste.

I added paprika, red pepper flakes, garam masala, & coriander.

Step five: cover and simmer 'til vegetables are tender (approximately 45 minutes)

Step six: allow to cool briefly and serve topped with grated swiss cheese.

If the phone rings one more time...

I'm gonna do something.

I can't WAIT 'til this election is over.

Stupid political exception to the do-not-call list.

Don't forget to vote tomorrow, kids.

Weekend in the Big City

E and I left the city for the suburbs years ago. The suburbs fit our personalities. And, I can't say that the 20 minute commute is something that I don't silently gloat about at work -- the majority of the lawyers I work with live in The City while working in The Valley. I feel their pain because I was ridiculed for doing the opposite while a student. My fellow students went out for bar nights while I sat in the commute. They slept while I drove to AM class. It was their turn to be the efficient ones. But, for the most part, when you compare me against 1st and 2nd-year associates in the valley, I'm continuing my role as an anomoly. I *gasp* choose to live on the *peninsula* just a few towns short of the perceived cultural wasteland of the South Bay. Mind you, I think they are wrong. I think there is just as much culture on the peninsula and in the south bay if you know where to look. But, then again, I'm biased.

Anyways, the merits of the peninsula and the south bay are not the point of this post.

This post is all about our San Francisco weekend. Every once in a while, we revert to our youthful San Franciscan high-rent, no-parking, angstier and more-cultured than thou days and spend a weekend in the city. It's always fun, nostalgic, and reminds us that there are many reasons why SF is considered the best city in the world by many (If it weren't for the fog and the artier-than-thous, I'd probably agree.)

So, this weekend, we did the whole shebang. It was awesome.

Saturday, we drove to the city and ate ourselves silly on Dim Sum. It was delicious. MG and V introduced us to Shanghai pork steam rolls for the first time. Soup! In a steam roll! Engineering at its finest, I tell you. Good thing they went to China last year -- better living through your friends' travels -- it's something I do my best to embrace whenever possible. Plus, we got to love the uncomfortable reality of being in the backdrop of what was slowly becoming someone's Wedding Buffet while wanting to continue eating at a restaurant that honestly scheduled the wedding set-up and Dim Sum hour close enough that you could be *that* table. And we were.

From there, I dropped E at the new Bloomingdale's portion of the Market & Powell Mall to buy us tickets to Borat. I drove towards Fisherman's Wharf where I couldn't find parking, so I filled the car with gas at the station across the street and and ran across to pick up my race packet for today's half marathon.

Borat was sold out before E could buy tickets. Story of our lives in SF -- never quite fast enough on the cool kids' draw. We're valley folk (dorky, nerdy, and wanna be cool...).

So, instead, we went to the Japanese Tea Garden. It was wonderfully relaxing and decadent to be tourists in our own region. We volunteered to take pictures of the Fijian family. We smiled at the Spanish group with their Castilliano accents. We drank strong green tea and tried not to eat snacks. We failed and were full before dinner.

For dinner, we met friends at a delicious and small word-of-mouth-only vegan sushi joint in the Mission (the 4 of them stuck to veggie fare, E and I like fish, thank you very much). The vegan eel substitute was good, although it didn't taste anything like Eel, not that the vegans would know.

From there, we had a drink with friends at their home in SF and drove home so I could sleep before today's race.

Today, I had high hopes of being fast. Last weekend, I ran a leisurely 2h10 at the Silicon Valley Half marathon. I figured I had tons of juice to spare. My hopes were dashed when I parked 2 minutes after the start. I sprinted to the start line and breathlessly ran my chip over the start and hit begin on my garmin. My garmin never even had a chance to sync with the satellites, so my garmin functioned as the world's largest stop-watch. I never had a chance to intelligently plan my race after sprinting to the start for 3/4 of a mile. At the end, I ran 1h57ish according to my watch.

This year's race hurt (physically) much less than last year's. But I also had much less humility. I honestly thought 1h50 was a reasonable goal. When you are 2 miles out at 1h37 and exhausted with uphill miles in front of you, it becomes VERY clear that you are an idiot for thinking 1h50 was gonna happen.

So, while I'm not in as much pain as last year, my pride hurts. I really would have liked to clear 1h55 and think I should try to do that before my marathon. Whatever. I ran across the bridge on both sides. I ran through the Presidio. I enjoyed some of the most gorgeous views that our wonderful city by the bay can offer. So I'm content.

And I can't wait for next year. Weekend of City Happiness -- HERE I COME.

In a pattern

I am a creature of schedules. Of regularity. Of discipline.

I was shocked to realize I didn't have to be anywhere until 9 AM tomorrow, and even that was a soft limit.

Woo hoo.

Celebration.

Then I remembered the appointment I'd scheduled.

Damn it. I can't wait 'til my new toy gets here and I can have one calendar instead of this bastardized two-calendar system I've got going on right now. Turns out the old Zaurus is getting ready to go to pasture and I'm slowly migrating my calendar to big, bad, outlook.

Yeah. I see what I've become. I get it. I still want my damn phone to arrive.

Choco-riffic recipe #1

The first chocolate attempt was Toffee-Chocolate Candy, for halloween.

I was exhausted on Monday night, but I forced myself to make Toffee because I knew it would be worth it. To do so, I dragged my post 3-hour-from-scratch-white-bean-soup and 1-hr-of-yoga while the soup cooked butt back into the kitchen after dinner. I was in search of chocolate happiness. And I found it. I even fucked the recipe up pretty royally. But it's sugar and butter and vanilla and chocolate. And I took it to our friends where 6 of us ate dinner, drank wine and champagne, heckled and/or got sappy over the trick-or-treaters, and enjoyed toffee and pumpkin bars. So it was fabulous.

Fucked Up Toffee-Chocolate Candy

6 oz semisweet chocolate (I used Hershey's -- is it just me, or is it wrong that they have a "solution center?"), chopped
6 oz bittersweet chocolate (I used 72% cacao Sharffen Berger), chopped
1 oz bitter chocolate (99% Sharffen Berger), chopped (I added this because I LOVE dark chocolate and 50/50 semisweet/bitter just didn't seem right with all the sugar in the toffee).
1 cup unsalted butter
1/4 cup water
1 tsp light corn syrup
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup pecans, chopped

1. Put all the chocolate chopped goodness in a bowl and mix it together, let it soften near the stove while you cook.

2. Put a bowl of water and a pastry brush by the stove so that when the toffee starts to crystalize on the edges you can brush it with water to reabsorb the sugar.

3. Apparently, you're supposed to combine the butter, sugar, water, corn syrup and salt over medium heat. I put my 1/4 cup of water in the bowl mentioned in #2. I also added the vanilla at this stage. My toffee ended up very buttery and slightly granular. I suspect the missing water is at least partially to blame for this.

4. You're supposed to slowly stir this concoction over medium heat until your candy thermometer measures 300F. Well, I've only got a meat thermometer and it tops out at 190F. So, I just kind of winged it, when it started to be this viscous liquid that wouldn't drip from the spoon and most of the butter was absorbed by the stubborn sugar, I poured it into a 9X11 baking pan. (For those of you that follow directions, you would do this at 300F, when the toffee is brown, approximately 18-20 minutes after you put the mixture on the stovetop. Also, you'd wait 'til just before pouring it to add the vanilla).

5. Tilt the pan 'til the toffee covers the pan evenly. My version had quite a bit of butter grease at the extremeties, but it was evenly covered and the sugar mixture that hardened on the spoon was damn good, so I wasn't too upset.

6. Layer the chocolate on top of the toffee and cover 'til the chocolate is melted. Spatula to an even layer, sprinkle with pecans and let it cool.

7. My version needs to be frozen to have the consistency of toffee candy. Otherwise it's a little soft, but still delicious.