Checking In

I've been sick all weekend, so I haven't really felt like blogging. But I just wanted to drop a line to let everyone know that I'm still alive. Not very happy about it at the moment, but still here.

Does He Walk Like A Duck?

Yesterday I met Sam. He's 3 (and a half, he'll tell you) and belongs to one of the lawyers here in my office.

As he was walking down the hallway I stopped and introduced myself, asking what was in the basket he was carrying. "A duck, " he told me seriously. "His name is Sam."

I was told, when I asked how to tell the difference between boy Sam and duck Sam, that duck Sam wears feathers and boy Sam wears a Batman shirt.

"What if boy Sam wore feathers too? Then how would you tell?" I asked. This proved too much for Sam, who got kind of worried for a moment, then loudly answered back "Quack!"

I'm not sure Sam's mother was amused at how easily I could convince her kid he might be a duck.

Happy Trails

Today was the day to say vaya con Dios to Grant the Republican. He's done, he's off, he's outta here. It's been a fun few years of lively debate and friendship. And here are a few of the things that he's taught me along the way:

1) You can take a week off right before the bar exam, go to Disneyworld, and pass with a couple of points to spare. (I still wouldn't recommend this course)

2) It takes more than two people to a pitcher of margaritas if you're going to make it through a criminal law lecture. First year of law school, our class had an hour break between contracts and crim law on Fridays so we'd go to lunch across the street at a little mexican restaurant. That hour was never long enough for us to get our food before we would have to leave, but it took us the better part of the year to determine what the proper person/margarita ratio was. I figured we had missed the day Grant kept poking me and giggling in class. In fact, I was worried about him driving home afterward. But yes, at least 3 people to a pitcher.

3) It's not what you know, it's who you know. I was better academically, but who got us jobs? Definitely who you know.

4) The City of Dallas does not like it when you put toilets on your front yard as a political statement (wow is his wife understanding!). I got to fight that particular battle for him with the mayor and the city attorney's office, leading to what Grant claims is one of my best lines ever: "The First Amendment's a b!&%*, isn't is?" Although I didn't like what he was saying, I do support his right to say it. Come to think of it, that's how we're still friends although we're so different.

There's more, but I'm not sure the statute of limitations has run on some of these stories and lessons. Here's hoping for years more. Good luck, Grant!

My Littlest Buddy

Keith came to town this weekend and brought Brayden with him. Wow, at 4 months he's huge!

Keith's sister Bridgette wanted to take him to a pumpkin patch for a picture session, but the timing didn't work out. The norther that blew in foiled her plans. Instead she decided to set up a fall theme in the dining room. Although she wanted to dress him in costume, the general consensus was that she shouldn't push her luck.

I had a great time playing with him. He's a pretty laid-back, happy guy. He got a little wiggly but settled down once he got some food in his tummy.

At one point we were walking around the living room, he pulled back, looked straight at me, flashed the biggest smile, and promptly spit up down the collar of my shirt. Missed the burp cloth entirely (actually, he pulled it out of the way first).

Aren't little kids great?

When I See Us Together in a Photograph

My morning started out when I accidentally sugared someone else's coffee. Two blue cups on the counter in front of me, and the partner who had come back to retrieve his didn't notice. If it was actually sugar, I might have told him (who knows who's a diabetic) but as it was the pink stuff, I didn't. Everybody's on edge today I don't want to add fuel to the fire by messing with the coffee.

I was thankful for the coffee because I was up late last night, almost by accident. I was going to pop in a DVD to play while I cleaned the house but I couldn't find the one I was looking for. So, for reasons I still don't know, I watched home movies that my daddy transferred to DVD awhile back instead. And of course, this has gotten me thinking about a few things:

1) Even if you think you look more like the milkman than anyone in your family, at some point you looked almost exactly like someone else. My oldest and youngest brothers could have been twins up until the age of four, except for the fact that they're spaced 20 years apart. My other brother looked just like his six year old son does now. My father is turning into his father, and my little brother is the exact age now as my dad was in those movies. Dad is a slightly different build, but they could pass for brothers.

2) The people you take pictures of at any given time are not necessarily the people you will want pictures of later. For example, everyone has a million pictures of their kids at all ages. That's fine, that's great, that's expected. What they do not have are pictures of everyone else at the same time. The people you've taken for granted, your parents, your siblings, your spouse, are likely the people that you will want to have pictures of in the future so you can laugh about how young they look, how much different you are now than then, and remember them when they are no longer here or are no longer the same person. Don't forget to take pictures of them too. You'll get enough pictures of your kids anyway.

3) I miss video cameras that ran on film. They have a great exuberant quality about them that just doesn't quite come through on digital camcorders, probably because the lens isn't always in focus, the lighting is sometimes hit or miss, there are streaks on the film - they just look more real to me. The other benefit is that the films don't have sound. You can edit narration on to the DVD version, but it's a lot easier to remember everyone as pleasant and happy when they aren't saying something to remind you otherwise.

4) There are many people that I would have liked to meet. My father when he was younger, my grandfather when he was older, and my brothers while they were growing up. It's a little odd sometimes to remember that all of these people had entire lives before you knew them and that they change just as much as everyone else. I know the "after" people, but I would really have liked to know the "before" as well.

5) My family is not only large, it is loud, noisy, chaotic, laid-back, occasionally disorganized, open, friendly, affectionate, exuberant, charismatic and diverse. I consider myself truly blessed.

None of this is particularly navel-pondering stuff, and I specifically only watched the bookend movies - the ones taken when my brothers were born in the 1960s and the ones taken at their children's various birthdays in the last few years. I'm not sure I'm up to seeing myself as a kid again just yet. As I remember, I was rather high-maintenance.

Is it 2008 Yet?

Sorry for the unoriginal post, but much to my delight, this was in my email this morning:

One sunny day in 2009, an old man approached the White House from across Pennsylvania Avenue where he'd been sitting on a park bench. He spoke to the U. S. Marine standing guard and said, "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine looked at the man and said, "Sir, Mr. Bush is no longer President and no longer resides here." The old man said, "Okay" and walked away.

The following day, the same man approached the White House and said to the same Marine, "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine again told the man, "Sir, Mr. Bush is no longer president and no longer resides here." The man thanked him and, again, just walked away.

The third day, the same man approached the White House and spoke to the very same U. S. Marine, saying, "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine, understandably agitated at this point, looked at the man and said, "Sir, this is the third day in a row you have been here asking to speak to Mr. Bush. I have told you already that Mr. Bush is no longer the president and no longer resides here. Don't you understand?" The old man looked at the Marine and said, "Oh, I understand. I just love hearing it."

The Marine snapped to attention, saluted, and said, "See you tomorrow."

In Lieu of Flowers

Geez, Louise! My former goal was to live a life that would end with a fascinating obituary in the New York Times. Nope, not any more. Consider me satisfied if I end up like this fabulous gentleman - I want to go down swinging, fighting the good fight.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a letter to write.

My Governor is a Jewish Cowboy? Kinky!

Down here in the Great State of Texas, we are having what promises to be a jim-dandy race for gubenatorial bragging rights. There are the squabbling Republicans, a Delay-displaced Democrat, and one cigar-smoking, novel-writing, freedom-loving, (reportedly trashcan-living), ambassador of Judaism whose campaign slogan is "Why the Hell Not?" That would be the Kinkster himself. And he's running as an independent, as if we couldn't have seen that coming.

Despite some general goofiness, the Kinkster actually has some pretty decent views on where the state is and where it needs to be. The problem is that he's got an uphill battle even to get on the ticket come voting time. He has to collect 45,000+ signatures in about eight weeks, the catch being that none of the signatories may have voted in the primaries. Thus has spawned a new pledge for supporters: "I'm saving myself for Kinky."

If nothing else, his candidacy has been worth it for the campaigning. His Kinkytoon (in JibJab fashion) is fantastic. He makes his case for candidacy admirably...and despite firework-spouting menorahs, stereotypical politicians proclaiming that "Jesus es grande," and the cheerleader that will live in infamy, you can tell he's actually serious about this campaign thing. He has abandoned his campaign promise from an ill-fated run for Kerr County JP many moons ago (that he would keep Kerrville out of war with Fredericksburg) - now he's thinking on a bigger scale.

Scary as this seems, I just may vote for him. After all, why the hell not?

The Devil is in the DIY Details

Damn the people who make do-it-yourself videos for Lowe's. They just make everything look so easy, completing projects in three minutes or less with everyone still smiling and on speaking terms with their assistants. Just once, I want to see someone in these tutorials cursing up a blue streak when a sink pedestal falls on their foot or the tile doesn't match up with the corner of the countertops. You know it happens. They just don't show it.

The weird part of this resentment I feel is that I'm only prospectively upset about this. Grant the Republican and I went to see the house I love again today and this time we listed everything that would have to be done to fix it up right. There is a tutorial covering almost each and every item on that list. The way I see it, Lowe's is only encouraging me to buy this house despite my reservations.

If they're going to counter my better judgment, the least they could do is be honest. I want to see just one spackling trowel thrown in frustration. Then maybe I'd believe that it really is pretty easy...most of the time.

SCOTUS Bound

Harriet Miers and I went to the same law school. We were both on law review, and we both got articles published (albeit 30-some-odd years apart). The difference is that her article was "unremarkable." Mine is uncriticized - at least publicly - so far.

I have told Grant the Republican (Editor In Chief of the law review while I was on it who coincidentally purchased his house from Ms. Miers) that if 30 years from now my article gets panned while I'm going through the Supreme Court nomination process, I'm going to blame him. After all, he not only deemed it fit for publication but suggested the topic.

I figured I would give him the heads up. I wouldn't want him surprised on down the road.

Watch How You Say That, Buddy...

Disch-Faulk field, home of the UT baseball team, has a new sponsor. Thanks to the University Federal Credit Union, the Longhorns will have some extra funds and their home will have a new name.

We can only hope to keep the sportscasters sober and on their toes because last night on the news came the first blunder. How hard is it to say "UFCU?" Who knows...but next spring I will apparently be cheering for the 'Horns at "F#$& U" Field.

Trial and Error

My secretary is proud of herself today, particularly because she has learned to drive a stick shift. Her husband taught her. I, on the other hand, followed the trial by fire method.

I had come home from college one vacation to find that my car needed repairs. Since this was the case, my father told me to drive his truck, an extra vehicle, for the week since I was going down to South Texas and needed wheels other than roller skates. It turns out that it hadn't occurred to him that I couldn't drive a standard.

I was supposed to meet Daddy downtown for lunch at 12:30 the next day, so I figured if I left the house by 9 a.m. I could make the 7 mile trip to his office and be there on time. Scary but true, it took every bit of that time. That morning was one of the very few times I have cursed the fact that we live at the top of a hill. Let's just say that backing out of the driveway left me inching down the hill (backwards!) while I figured out how the clutch worked. But I eventually made it downtown and then made it to South Texas (thank heavens it was all highway) where I didn't drive again until it was time for me to head back home. By the end of the weekend I was actually getting pretty good. By that time I had discovered 3rd and 4th gears, since apparently I had been shifting 1, 2, 5.

To his credit, when my father discovered how I had learned to drive a standard (years later and I made sure he was in a good mood first) he blamed himself. He said it should have occurred to him that no one had taught me how before he loaned me his truck. That was one of the few car-related confessions I have made to him that didn't end with one of us mad.

My secretary's husband, on the other hand, has not been so understanding about her lessons. I'm not sure they're on speaking terms at the moment. I'm not going to ask, but it can't be too bad. After all, the land around their house is flat.

"Nobody's Home;" or What I Should Have Said

What is it with me and birds here lately? Today at about 6:30 I got a knock at the front door. I figured it was the UPS guy - he usually comes about that time. Imagine my surprise to find an unwelcome ex-boyfriend holding a pigeon (making him even more unwelcome, if that were possible).

First of all, this guy, Patrick, just hasn't gotten it that it is possible for someone not to want him. It's been 10 months since I broke it off but still his last proposal was Saturday. I take it back; I don't "want to be friends," I want him to go away. So I changed tennis groups, altered my schedule so I can keep away from him, and what does he do? Stops by unexpectedly. No way was I going to let him in.

Second, what the heck was he expecting me to do about a bird with a broken wing? He should have put the bird out of it's misery. Short of that, he should have let it go to let nature run its course. Instead, he demanded the number for my veterinarian. (No way was I going to let another bird take up residence on my front porch.) After about 15 minutes of lurking, he finally went away.

I was highly ticked off by the whole episode. Patrick thought I was rude for not being more hospitable when he showed up wholly unannounced. Keith said he would have taken care of the situation if he had been around - he would have flattened Patrick. Hush the cat was highly disappointed that I turned away yet another bird.

Some days seem like they're going to be normal. It's amazing to me how the surreal can sneak up and hit you, right between the eyes, just when you think you're safe.

Just For Fun

I don't really have anything to say today - too busy to say much anyway - but here is a corny joke that had me laughing for a good half an hour:

Two antennas met and married. The ceremony was nothing special but the reception was excellent.

And my word for the day: Althaiophobia (fear of marshmallows).

Happy Tuesday, all!

A Dose of Ego

Everybody has something they're good at, and sometimes you just need to feel good about yourself. I guess this is my utterly shameless ego boost for the day, but I am good at the following:

1) I make people laugh. Usually not at any one else's expense.
2) I'm flexible. Literally. I can still do the splits.
3) I write a mean motion for summary judgment.
4) I'm a good kisser.
5) I can charm old people.
6) I can talk politics without offending people. They understand that even if I don't agree, I respect their position.
7) I can follow any logical argument to a ridiculous conclusion. This means I can oppose motions for summary judgment pretty well too.
8) I have a freakishly good memory.
9) I bake the world's best brownies. People have called hours after consumption solely to tell me this.
10) I know when to say no to another drink.
11) I can backhand a tennis ball with deadly accuracy.
12) I slow dance with the best of them.
13) I salsa with the best of them.
14) I make salsa with the best of them.
15) I can run miles on stubbornness alone.
16) I always use turn signals when driving.
17) Small animals and small children inexplicably love me.
18) I work really well in crisis mode. I'm more likely to freak out after I'm done dealing with something.
19) I read very quickly. And remember it all.
20) I can play the William Tell Overture on the ceiling fan.
21) I can keep secrets.

All of this may not exactly make me scintillating at cocktail parties, perpetually delightful, shapely, or statuesque. It doesn't even make me a particularly good person. But it makes me happy.

Tears in Oklahoma

Today was the highlight of the week. Down here, where football is considered a valid religion (and the most fun the Southern Baptist Convention will condone), every one is thrilled that Texas beat Oklahoma and ended the five-year drought in the "Red River Wars."

I spent the game at Doug and Claire's house where Doug did NOT throw a party. You see, he's thrown a party for the game each of the past few years and his beloved 'Horns lost each time. Instead, this was a "coincidental meeting of his friends and favored companions" occurring because he left the front door unlocked. Yeah, right. Football, burgers, beer and friends...it was a party. But maybe his superstitous approach this year did some good - after all we did win.

The best part of the afternoon though was all of the kids running around the house. Doug and Claire's two boys (4 and 7), Susan's son (2 1/2) and a couple of the neighbors' kids. It's fun to see little people all excited, and this afternoon probably did just a little more to convince all of these kids that they are future UT students. The general consensus is that you've got to indoctrinate them early or else they might grow up to be Aggies.

It was a fun day and I'm glad I went to go watch the game. Of course tonight, if you go out on my front porch and listen very closely, you can hear a soft whimpering sound coming from the general direction of Oklahoma. Which, as I figure, is just how it ought to be.

Hook 'Em.

Just a Slight Obsession

Keith called the house I found "pimp." My mother saw the pictures and said she'd buy it in a heartbeat. Grant the Republican thinks I ought to get a roommate for safety and make an offer ASAP. Maybe I should send all of them the neighborhood crime statistics. (Actually they're not too bad, but they're definitely not encouraging). This is the library (well, a little bit of it).

Oh The Places You'll Go

I've been thinking a lot about high school lately, ever since I accidentally crashed a reunion last month. I liked high school, mostly, but I didn't keep in touch with anybody after I left. Most of them were headed across town to go to the University of Texas while I was headed across the country to William & Mary so the geography just didn't quite work out.

Well, I've started googling classmates to see what comes up, to see who has done anything noteworthy since we were seventeen. It turns out that we're actually a pretty diverse group. My classmates have become everything from doctors to Rockettes (with a few lushes in there too for good measure). Most people ended up just as I figured they would.

The least surprising find, as odd as this will sound, is that one of my best friends from back then has become a drag queen. Brant was the kid that most people liked and everybody but himself knew he was gay. You don't go around proclaiming your love for fashion design and musical theater without people thinking something is up. But it turns out that he is successful and making a living doing what he loves, which puts him way ahead of most people that I know. Plus - and I confess that this thought makes me giggle - he looks just like his mother.

I'm not too curious about the rest of my class. They were people that I knew what seems like a lifetime ago and I'm pretty sure that none of them are curious about me. But if you're in New York, go see Brant - I mean Porsche - and think about what everyone else thought you might end up becoming.

For my part, I think I have probably beaten most people's expectations. I have no doubt that my classmates figured I would still be in detention when our ten-year reunion rolled around.

The Red State Blues

I have known Grant the Republican for several years now, and I am the only Democrat he will admit to liking. Most days I like him too despite his occasional tendency to gloat. Lately, however, it has been a little harder to keep my political spirits up around him. With the Texas gubenatorial election looming, the reshuffling of the Supreme Court, and new tax cuts proposed all around, I've been feeling a little down. Grant has not been helping this (his idea of trying involved inviting me to go hear Karl Rove speak last night).

I think, however, that I have found a quick fix to my funk. I got Grant a going away gift. He collects two things: (1) pictures of himself with famous Republicans and (2) signed books by famous Republicans. Although my gift doesn't quite fit in these categories, I hope he'll like it. After all, who wouldn't want a signed, 8x10 glossy of MY favorite Republican - Dan Quayle.

What a Week (And it's Only Monday)

This has already been an busy week with only a tiny little bit of it behind me.

Grant the Republican, the first person I met in law school and one of my best friends here in Dallas, is leaving the firm we both work for to move to Las Vegas and work for a magician. I guess he couldn't find a circus to join. (Actually it's a great opportunity and wish him nothing but congratulations.) What makes this interesting is that he hasn't exactly told the entire firm yet, though he told some of the partners today, but he would like to make this his last week. He's been handing cases off to me so maybe they'll catch on before too long. If not, they should by the time I move into his office this weekend. In the meantime, I'm being very careful not to spill the beans to anyone who doesn't already know.

On top of this, Grant has decided that I need to buy a house. Specifically, his house. To let him know that I wasn't really interested I looked through the real estate listings here in Dallas to find pictures of a couple of other houses I could show him so he would think I had passed on his for something else. The problem is that I found the perfect house. In the least perfect neighborhood.

I love the house that I found. It's an old Victorian that was completely updated in the not-too-distant past. Huge rooms, wrap-around porches, in my price range and - here is what makes me love it - it has a library. Floor to ceiling shelves with a sliding library ladder to reach up to the top of the 12 foot ceilings. It's technically in a historic district, along the edges, but I'm pretty sure I saw a crack house down the street when we drove by it earlier (you can't see that in the picture). But Grant and I are going to an open house tomorrow anyway, glutton for punishment that I am. He's under orders to point out everything wrong with it.


On the friend front, most of my friends are married couples and they all seem to have gone a little crazy today. Of these matrimonially bound companions, I have been informed that one had a "let's just be friends" conversation with his wife, one went to his first marriage counselling session (it turns out it really is all her fault), and one told me that he and his wife enjoy an alternative lifestyle (apparently they're "swingers" - who knew?). You know, suddenly this whole being single thing seems a lot less complicated than I think I give it credit for.

And somewhere in all of this hubbub I also managed to get some work done. Now on to Tuesday, that is if I can find the energy.

Headed South

Confession time: I'm not a native Dallasite. I was born and raised in Austin back when it was a relatively little town. By the time I graduated high school, the tech boom was about to hit and it just has never quite been the same since. Now Austin has suburbs. It has "Dellionaires." It has a hundred thousand out-of-work tech professionals. Their jobs have all been outsourced, but Austin is so great that no one ever wants to leave. They'd rather wait tables or work at Home Depot than go elsewhere - not that I blame them.

I got to go home this weekend to run around and just be the crazy Austin girl that I am at heart. I got to drive over the 360 bridge, easily one of the most iconic spots in town. I got to shop at funky bookstores and do my part to support local businesses. It's good for the soul to go to Austin sometime - to eat barbeque, run into people I haven't seen in years, and get back to the hill country.

One of the radio stations has been playing the same promo for years now. Ray Benson (of Asleep at the Wheel fame) proclaims in his rich baritone "It's a great day to be alive in Austin, Texas." Well Ray, I'll drink to that. That he says this during the middle of Austin's legendary rush-hour traffic in no way diminishes the sentiment.

In Dallas, the culture seems to value what a person has more than who they are. In Austin, it's what you can add to the ambience that determines your worth. "Keep Austin Weird" is more than a slogan, people live by it.

I'm sure most people feel about their hometowns the way that I feel about mine. Heck, even Dorothy missed Kansas. And though it's not the same place I grew up, Austin is still where I belong. Because it's a great place to be alive in, no matter what day it is.