Red Flashlight

Hello again. Happy end of summer.

2010-08-20T15:20:00.004-06:00

Is my blog dead? No. It's just . . . declining in priority. FaceBook has taken over some section of my interest. Conflicted as I am about FaceBook, I do use it.

And I'm employed! Full time! I'm back in the fantastical world of Higher Education Administration, which I *love.* I was even a Marshall for the Chancellor's Convocation for Freshmen. I chatted up the parents, directed traffic, and supported a heatstroke victim while she threw up on my shoes. Not her fault, poor thing. Note to self - stance is important when rendering first aid.

For my next trick, I'll have to figure out how to keep people from using my blog as a bulletin board. See the comments to my last entry. It's quite a mystery.

Some Signs Point to 'Yes'

2010-05-17T09:57:00.003-06:00

Going back to work for my favorite M.S.U. (medium sized university), and loving it! Worried, though, about the future. The financial picture blackens . . . http://chronicle.com/article/Will-Higher-Education-Be-the/44400

Cherokee Nation Stop Sign

2009-11-30T10:26:00.002-07:00

Just returned from Thanksgiving in the wonderful little town of Tahlequah, Oklahoma, a hot bed of cozy Americana! Highlights of our whirlwind tour included world-class pizza at "Sam and Ella's cafe," a delicious Thanksgiving turkey dinner, a tour of several Barbecue restaurants (most of them closed for the holidays, unfortunately), and roasting imaginary marshmallows over an imaginary camp fire while conducting an imaginary orchestra with a 3-year-old. (Note the "food" theme, so far. Very important. I gained three pounds.)

Also toured the Cherokee Nation, or at least that part of it in Tahlequah. Those shapes above the word "stop" on this sign spell out the word 'stop' (naturally) using the Cherokee alphabet. Which, according to our host, isn't really an alphabet, it's a syllabary: the shapes stand for sounds/syllables, rather than letters. The flags and marker in the background are to honor Cherokee soldiers killed in a variety of U.S. wars.

New England Coast From Above

2009-10-08T16:11:00.003-06:00

Just got back from a friend's wedding in Maine. It was so beautiful! I've never been to Maine before. A secret gem. They say the population is shrinking, currently around one million people. But great people! We had such a good time. Just a little fast Ethernet (or maybe microfiber) and I wouldn't mind migrating there.

I took this picture from the plane on our way home. The earth is so lovely from above, don'tcha think?

Nothing is Safe

2009-09-17T10:00:00.004-06:00

These are hand-painted clothespins. :)

Avalokiteshvara in Santa Fe

2009-08-24T10:14:00.001-06:00

Just Doodling

2009-08-21T11:57:00.002-06:00

Spot the Issues

2009-06-05T16:28:00.002-06:00

Happy Friday.
:)

Wordless Monday

2009-05-11T12:01:00.003-06:00

It's Just Words, Baby.

2009-04-29T17:50:00.003-06:00

Hateful words of the day: nunc pro tunc. That's right, it's Latin! Latin for "I'm not a very good attorney and I don't want my clients to find out so I'm going to use a bunch of useless Latin phrases to make my clients feel dumb!" Only other attorneys aren't fooled by this stupid tactic and, since the attorneys on the opposing side aren't allowed to talk to the other party except through his/her attorney, laypeople never have a chance to find out about this stupid tactic. (Situation not helped by the fact that criticism from the opposing attorney should be dismissed as a matter of course as self-serving claptrap.)

This calls for something soothing; something less painful but much more satisfying: art.

Sophisticated Term of Art #1: LIES! (The first in a series.)

2009-03-12T21:26:00.005-06:00

"In her response, Petitioner asserts that her 18-year-old son is still living at home. Considering she withdrew him from High School in February 2008, ejected him from her home at that time, and he is now incarcerated in County Jail on felony charges, Petitioner's assertion can only be described as a 'lie.' "

Why settle for such a simple little word when a gloriously obfuscating phraseology like "knowing misrepresentation" is available?

;)

Crysanthemum

2009-03-06T11:51:00.002-07:00

Nothing new to report. Currently reading Little Brother by Cory Doctorow (fiction). Just finished Yoga for People Who Can't be Bothered to Do It, by Geoff Dyer (essays).

The Alice Within

2009-03-03T17:59:00.003-07:00

A Toast and a Smile

2009-02-26T17:22:00.002-07:00

I learned a piece of trivia today - have you ever looked at the signature line on your personal checks? It appears to be a line of super tiny prose. I wonder what it says. Anyone know? Maybe it's a poem.

Can't Get Through February Without Posting a Valentine

2009-02-23T18:44:00.003-07:00

A valentine, and then some clever book titles for yet-to-be-written books, for no particular reason. Just something my brain did to kill the time in a CLE class on family law.

Thinking Inside the Box
Three Years in Hades
The Honest But Unfortunate Debtor
Merciless
Time Rich and Money Poor
Inconformability

Comics and Funnies

2009-02-09T19:20:00.003-07:00

It's been a long time since I drew any comics. This one's new, and it didn't come easy. It happened like this: my friend Hatchet tells very funny stories about her twins. I told her she could do stand-up. Then she told me I could draw comics. I said "nuh-uh." She said "uh-huh." So I said "I'll draw a comic if you get yourself on video imitating Logan's 'the floor is made of hot lava you must pick me up right now' routine." Not to post it on YouTube or anything, just to see how it feels to be funny on camera.

It was really hard coming up with anything to say in a comic. My brain has turned to putty. Remember the "Angriest Dog In The World" comic? If you do, I'm impressed. It was basically several frames of the same angry dog graphic, with a very simple gag. I think it didn't go anywhere because frankly . . . it didn't have much to say. That's about how I feel right now.

Therefore I shall close with a quote. This is the last sentence of the Author's Note at the front of Life of Pi, by Yann Martel: "If we, citizens, do not support our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination on the altar of crude reality and we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams."

What do you think that means?

Stupid Classroom Rules

2009-02-06T10:56:00.004-07:00

Guilty secret - I snapped a furtive picture of a poster at a Junior High School. I couldn't resist:

I know it's a terrible picture. I know I'm not supposed to focus on the negative. I know I'm supposed to keep a positive attitude. But seriously: "I will keep your hands and feet to yourself?" "I will celebrate each other's acheivements?" Yikes.

This is what No Child Left Behind has done for us. It should have been called "No Child Left Behind Except Those Children Who Live Where Property Values Are Too Low to Provide Tax Income Sufficient to Hire Actual Professionals As Teachers."

What Leets Get for Christmas

2009-01-12T10:40:00.002-07:00

Laugh out loud pasta sets, of course!

Quote For the Day

2009-01-10T11:48:00.000-07:00

"The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone."
- Manifesto of the Unitarian Jihad

The Collision of Braininess and Manual Dexterity

2009-01-06T19:41:00.004-07:00

This is so cool: It's a New York Times article on NYC Resistor, referred to variously as "Kingdom of the Geeks," a "Frathouse for Geeks," a "hacker collective," and a "creative community for nerds."

Plus, that's a picture of Devon! Hotness.

More Homemade Holiday Papers

2009-01-06T01:18:00.004-07:00

Viola! Here are the remaining papers I made this year, using the method I described in my December 6th post.

Aren't they lovely? Also fun to make. :)

New Year. New Look.

2009-01-05T12:59:00.001-07:00

What do you think? I thought colorful posts would do better with a nice blank background. (See Inside the White Cube, by Brian O'Doherty.)

Homemade Holiday Wrapping Paper

2009-01-03T11:06:00.007-07:00

It took longer than I'd planned, but a jam session of about 5 hours resulted in a plethora of pleasing papers! Finally getting around to posting them. Here are two, I'll post more later. After coffee. Maybe.

Happy 2009, people.

What I've Been Reading

2009-01-03T10:22:00.002-07:00

"It was unwise to read old books; the fury they ignited wasn't old; it was new. If she couldn't get the pompous fart himself, she wanted to search out the descendants of H. Hardless and stab the life out of them. But the child shouldn't be blamed for a father's crime, she tried to reason with herself, then. But should the child therefore also enjoy the father's illicit gain?"
- The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, chapter 31.

Cooking in a Pith

2008-12-20T09:26:00.005-07:00

This video is awesome. You must see it! Especially you, Hatchet: Cooking In a Pith: 951 Curry

5 Things Meme

2008-12-19T13:00:00.008-07:00

Ten Years Ago I:
Took my first serious job and began paying back my student debt.
Five Things on Tomorrow's 'To Do' List:
(1) Sleep late; (2) process class evaluations for DateSmart class; (3) pay car insurance bill; (4) research whether a tort action will lie against opposing counsel for fraudulent in-court statements leading to an unfair judgment;(5) go to a caroling party.
Five Snacks I Enjoy:
(1) Popcorn; (2) pate de foie gras (sorry); (3) olives; (4) red wine; (5) curry.
Five Things I Would Do If I Were a Millionaire:
(1) Pay off student debt; (2) buy antique building and convert to art studios; (3)-(5) buy coffee for 3 friends with remaining $5.83.
Five Places I Have Lived:
(1) Washington, D.C.;(2) Badlands National Monument, South Dakota; (3) Estes Park, Colorado; (4) Boulder, Colorado (home); (5) Denver, Colorado
Five Jobs I've Had:
(1) Girl Friday for a Private Detective; (2) Office Temp; (3) Night Security Guard; (4) Administrator; (5) Lawyer

Inspired by Killing a Fly with a Ukelele blog.

Quote For the Day

2008-12-18T08:28:00.001-07:00

"I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn’t expect to arrive." -Jorge Luis Borge

Editing is Easier

2008-12-12T13:51:00.004-07:00

Take these sunflowers, for example. The hardest part was last summer, when I sketched out the basic forms in blue and goldenrod. Then they languished in my "studio" (ha!) for several months, until they were needed. I finished them in a 20-minute rush session. Hooray!

Irony and Guiltless Wrapping Paper

2008-12-06T13:11:00.006-07:00

Presents in wrapping paper sometimes fill me with a sense of dread. Without going much into the ugly, tangled mess that is "the holidays" in my mind, I'll just say: (1) wrapping paper destroys forests and/or (2) wrapping paper guilt requires careful removal and space-consuming storage.

Imagine my excitement when my friend over at Law and Motherhood told me about making her own wrapping paper from paper grocery bags! It's brilliant! Fun to make! Higher quality paper! Covered with original artwork made by someone who loves you! Perfect memorabilia for the sweet and sentimental.

Here's my first foray into grocery-bag birthday wrapping paper, for a certain wizardly barrista I know:

For my next trick I'll use the ol' "stamp made of a sponge" trick to make holiday paper.*

* - Get a flat sponge, a sharpie, a pair of scissors, relatively loose paint, a plate, and a bunch of paper bags. Draw a simple shape on the sponge with a sharpie. Get the sponge a little moist and then cut out the shape. Make a shallow reservoir of paint on the plate. Dip the sponge in the paint just enough to transfer to the paper. Set the sponge, paint side down, on the paper. At this point you can either wait for the paper to absorb the paint or you can apply a little pressure to get the image to transfer. It depends on the denseness of your sponge and the viscosity of your paint. In the alternative: the ol' potato-stamp trick, using a potato and ink instead of sponge and paint. Potatoes tend to result in crisper images if you cut the stamp side flat enough. But be prepared for serious ink stains on your hands.

I Hate Looking for Work

2008-12-05T15:04:00.000-07:00

About sums it up.

Mean Girls

2008-11-19T09:56:00.007-07:00

I've been teaching "Date Smart" for the last couple of weeks, to 8th grade students. Date Smart is intended to teach the students how to recognize abusive relationships, and what to do about it. Really rewarding and fun, but this particular school segregates the kids. I miss having the co-ed mix in the classroom (especially for the "skits") but I notice the students are more open with their input and questions without the opposite sex nearby.

Except this week. Why? Because this week I have the "Mean Girls" in my class. That's right, capital M capital G. It's incredibly challenging! Nobody talks. All eyes look to the Mean Girl section to see how they should respond to . . . pretty much anything. To help me cope I watched Mean Girls (the movie) last night. It's a classic. I wish I could share it with the class but I don't want to give them new ideas for cruelty and manipulation. I might share this small tidbit from the movie: "girls, if you insist on calling each other sluts and whores, you're giving the boys permission to call you that, too." Maybe girls don't care about that anymore but I think they're faking a callousness they don't feel. The ultimate commitment in junior high school, after all, is 'appearing cool.' Maybe it's cool to be called a whore. (Mind boggles. Eyes spin around. Blood pressure rises.)

Today we define the word "coerce." It'll be fun. I promised them it would be!

Nailed It

2008-11-05T09:11:00.002-07:00

"Carrying a majority of the popular vote, Obama did especially well among women and young voters, who polls showed were particularly sensitive to the current climate of everything being fucked. [ . . .] Citizens with eyes, ears, and the ability to wake up and realize what truly matters in the end are also believed to have played a crucial role in Tuesday's election."
-The Onion, November 5, 2008

Where at Least I Know I'm Free

2008-11-04T22:41:00.009-07:00

I was a poll-watcher in this election. I watched a huge number of first-time voters, young and old, elect Barack Obama. I spoke Spanish with a little old lady who told me "es mi primera vez" - it was her first time. I so wanted to believe we could elect a Democrat, finally. After 2000 and 2004 I had grown cynical. I reserved judgment. I closed down my assigned polling place and went home to spend about two hours obsessively clicking "reload" on the New York Times election results page. When the press started calling it for Obama I said "ha - they called it in 2000 and they were wrong." When McCain made his concession speech my husband kissed me on the head and went to bed. I'm so proud tonight. Proud, relieved, and exhausted. It's like a big black eye in the face of American cynicism.

Here's a fusion recording of Martin Luther King's "I have a Dream" speech, accompanied by the band Moodfood. (If this link doesn't work, you can find it on You Tube.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjXqft31-O8

2008-10-17T11:35:00.002-06:00

Updated daily until November 4th, a Flash website starring President Palin in the Oval Office:
http://www.palinaspresident.us/

The Shelves of Bees and Flowers

2008-10-12T13:03:00.006-06:00

My shelves are officially painted and are filling up with ubiquitous stuff. One set is in my office, one is in the boudoir. From my office chair I can turn slightly to the right and see a bee. Like this one:
Here are the shelves in process:

My staging area for this project:

I took these pictures with the little camera in my Treo and then Photo-Shopped them to pump up the contrast and saturation, which helps a lot. I hope to be in the market soon for a digital camera. On that note, I'd better log off and get back to the job search. Frabjous.

Do Your Good Deed For the Day

2008-10-09T11:46:00.000-06:00

Sign the petition to stop junk mail:
http://www.donotmail.org.

Been Painting Again

2008-09-17T15:34:00.005-06:00

I set out with a plan to paint some ugly old shelves. Nothing fancy, just paint them white; give them a face lift. So I did that. Then I thought 'why not paint a few quick little flowers on them.' So I did that. But, since my paints are ready to go, paintbrushes standing at attention, tarp already on the floor, why not keep going?' Why not indeed? It's so much fun. :)

Now my bathroom is decorated with tarps, scattered paint pots, and some random-looking pieces of wood and paper adorned with flowers. But I need shelves in my bathroom! Time to get practical and get back to work.

Beautiful Places

2008-09-10T13:20:00.005-06:00

The Denver Botanic Gardens were beeeeeoooootiful last weekend!

Speaking of beautiful places I've made an addition to my list of favorite places to work: The Old Town Cafe in Erie, North of Denver. Original art, an outdoor patio, fresh garden flowers, free wireless, and a huge bonus: no distracting music! Except for the programming class taking place in the back room it was nice and quiet at 9:00 a.m. last Tuesday. Other signs of high quality - delicious-looking pastries of generous size, and a red plastic dinosaur in the planter by the front walk. (Ask not about the mysterious power of a red plastic dinosaur!)

88 Years of Women's Suffrage

2008-09-02T12:25:00.005-06:00

I hate chain e-mail and I won't forward it. But this morning I received a compelling e-reminder: women earned the right to vote in this country a mere 88 years ago (in 1920). We should exercise that right. Use it or lose it. Here's that e-mail, slightly edited: "Why Women Should Vote."

"This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago. It was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

These women were jailed in 1917 for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote. By the end of that night they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.' They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air. They hurled Dora Lewis into a cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cell mate, Alice Cosu, thinking Lewis was dead, suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there. For weeks their only water came from an open pail. Their food was infested with worms. When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press." President Woodrow Wilson himself recruited a psychiatrist in an attempt to have her institutionalized as "insane."

The message goes on to recommend "Iron Jawed Angels," starring Hillary Swank, depicting the events of the suffragist movement. More importantly, the message asks the reader What would those women think of the way we use, or don't use, our right to vote? No matter which party you vote for, remember to vote. History is being made.

Read more at the Library of Congress and Women of Protest: Photographs from the Records of the National Woman's Party, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

Wedding Picture, Finally.

2008-08-30T16:27:00.004-06:00

Thanks for waiting. In case you're wondering I'm not the readhead.
Why isn't the grass green? Because it was July in Colorado! It's supposed to look like that.

DNC Thursday - Obama Speaks

2008-08-29T07:49:00.003-06:00

I didn't leave the house on Thursday. I was telecommuting.
Obama didn't start speaking until I was falling asleep.
But I read his remarks the next morning.

Wednesday - Bicycle Parade

2008-08-27T22:45:00.002-06:00

I encountered a bicycle parade at the corner of Colfax and Colorado at dusk. 150 to 200 people on bikes. I saw them again at 16th and Williams - they must have doubled back. I paused at the four-way-stop to watch them go by, including one dude on a skateboard incognito behind a bandanna mask. But the entire parade stopped at the stop sign to let me go through. Sweeeeeet!

For a moment I was back in Amsterdam at rush hour.

Tuesday Doldrums

2008-08-26T23:05:00.005-06:00

Tuesday. Nothing moving on my side of town except one ambulance flashing towards downtown. A guy waiting for a bus. A very old Saab. Emergency equipment idling in City Park. A convertible Miata with California plates cruising Highway 36.

At a well known protester-gathering place at the corner of Broadway and Canyon in Boulder I saw a well-dressed young woman carrying a pink sign. I slowed down to read "Homeless: anything helps."

Democratic National Convention - Monday

2008-08-25T14:38:00.004-06:00

Not much to see today. If you want photos from DNC ground zero, you can find them here.

My Hband saw protesters on his way to work, shuffling towards downtown, none of whom carrying anything particularly nefarious-looking. I saw elderly gents fly-fishing on the lake in Washington Park, Denver's skyscrapers jutting along the horizon. Signs along Josephine street announced something-of-the-whatever-thing or miscellaneous warning or notification. Not safe to read and drive at the same time.

I painted some shelves in the alley behind my MIL's house and was visited by a bee while MIL told me of her plans to attend a Wednesday event and eat continental breakfast with an as-yet-unknown speaker.

All of these seemingly unrelated and quotidian incidents could be inscrutable inklings of weighty things to come. Especially that bit about the bee. Sometimes I can't do better than simply linking to someone else's blog entry to express my point - check out this bee entry in the Hunky Gardener's blog.

Democratic Convention - the Swelling of the Tide

2008-08-24T13:02:00.002-06:00

We drove past downtown Denver this morning, the Sunday prior to the Democratic National Convention. It was quiet. So far the signs include only these: cleaner streets and two parking tickets in as many days for yours truly. Ugh! The first was for leaving my car in front of my house on the dreaded street sweeping day. (You know, those days when 'they' often don't actually sweep the streets but are nevertheless conscientious about handing out tickets.) The second was for parking overtime at a meter. I was in arbitration at the JAG (Judicial Arbiter's Group) and had to run out to plug the meter every two hours. Not wanting to miss the juicy bits, I took a chance! My favorite hot dog vendor at the corner of Blake and Seventeenth Streets told me I'd missed it by mere moments. Oh, well. Win some, lose some. There's sure to be more momentous DNC news later . . .

Cool Site

2008-08-16T02:04:00.003-06:00

This is a nifty site - http://moonri.se/
It pairs feelings with images. You can upload your own images/feeling combo, or you can enter a feeling and see images that others have uploaded for that feeling.

This Was a Fabulous Day

2008-08-09T13:17:00.004-06:00

Trying on hats at Allyn's, an amazing fabric store/milliner's on 6th Avenue in Denver.

It was just a few days before the wedding, and I without a clue what to do with my hair. The piratical bride would have been . . . well . . . memorable. (But I went with curls and a headband.)

Taking a Hatchet to the Wedding Cakes

2008-08-07T23:04:00.003-06:00

I just returned from "Howling Mountain Mama's" night out. (A monthly meeting of mamas away from the men and babies, dining, drinking, talking, laughing . . . you get the picture.) This was the inaugural month. We went to the Melting Pot.

Hatchet reminded me she helped cut our wedding cake! How fitting! Of course Hatchet, you deserve a great big thank you for that, and more thank yous for everything else you did for us that day, and I apologize for leaving your cake cutting off my big list of people to be thanked. Thank you, Hatchet!

The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword

2008-08-06T18:07:00.006-06:00

Amendment 46 seeks to end Affirmative Action in Colorado.

Several well-meaning citizens signed a petition to put the amendment on this November's ballot after intrepid petitioners told them the amendment would "end discrimination." After finding out the amendment is actually designed to end Affirmative Action, the same citizens complained to the Secretary of State. They were told "too late, you should have read what you were signing."

To illustrate this tragic tale I offer a delightful little confection from YouTube: "End Women's Suffrage."

Moral of the story? Never sign anything you don't understand.

Racism.

2008-07-25T12:54:00.003-06:00

I generally hesitate to use the word 'racist' because I think it's overused. Here's a thing about the word "racism:" its pejorative power has destroyed our powers to converse rationally about it. Try stripping the word of its pejorative meanings. Just because a thing is racist, does that mean it's intrinsically bad? Affirmative action, for example. Intrinsically bad? Or just flawed? Flawed enough to kill it off? I know intelligent people on both sides of the debate. The argument that we should get rid of it merely because it's racist is just vapid, people. Please stop saying that. Of course it's racist. If there's no better argument than that, my vote is we should keep it.

I Can Never Run for President

2008-07-25T12:22:00.006-06:00

My family fought for the royalists in the Revolutionary War. I can never run for president.

I will never overcome the stigma of my name, you see. My name, like Obama's, is a magic spell cast upon me by ancestors long a-mouldering in the grave. If elected president my ancestors will, like Angela Lansbury, give me the magical hypnotic phone call of undeniable command - I will have no choice but to tear, spindle, and mutilate the constitution and then invite the British to re-conquer the majestic mountains and amber waves of grain our patriots so cruelly wrested from British control.

Thirteen years in the U.S. Public School system? Piffle.
A career in public service working for the State of Colorado? Nada.
Parents who constantly reminded me that, while imperfect, the United States of America is nevertheless the greatest country in the world? Insubstantial as a feather floating on the breeze.

God Save the King/Queen and all that. What rubbish! People who think Obama won't be a good president because his name will somehow have the magical power to force him to make the U.S. vulnerable to "Islamic turrists" are simply not thinking.

The Large Day

2008-07-19T21:01:00.008-06:00

Scott and I were married yesterday morning at Chautauqua Park in Boulder, Colorado, egged on by 100 of our closest and dearest friends. It was inexpressibly good, 'way good,' Sweet and Dandy.* So many thanks are owed to so many friends. Scylla drove us around the city and fed us chocolate shakes to keep us calm. Margot found flower-girl baskets. Adam schlepped at least a half ton of food and equipment to and fro. Elizabeth wove ribbons together to create an 'aisle' across the grass. Dorothy planned and paid for a world-class rehearsal event. Hatchet made the wedding bouquet with flowers from her garden. Dorothy's many neighbors donated bunches of garden flowers to adorn the reception. Theresa loaned us an ice chest. Elaine and the Georges delivered the cakes. Bradley helped write the ceremony and officiated. Amy and Monica cut cake with speedy expertise. Debts were forgiven. The sun shone brightly and the wind did not blow. And so much more! So many heartfelt thanks to others not listed here.

I am a wife! Scott is a husband! A bigger set of circumstances than one can express in any language.

* - Toots and the Maytals, Sweet and Dandy. Find it on YouTube.

Wedding Invitations Are in the Mail!

2008-06-06T20:01:00.000-06:00

After a flurry of negotiating wedding registry information, designing, selecting paper, printing, slicing, tying bows, agonizing over guest lists, addressing envelopes, stuffing envelopes, and applying stamps, the invitations are finally in the mail!!

It gives me goose bumps.

The Law

2008-06-06T11:05:00.003-06:00

An ABA publication reports the number of lawyers is high, the pay is low, and the industry is transforming itself.* In 2004 solo practitioners averaged $46,000 per year in the United States and that situation has not improved. The demand for fresh law school graduates is ever increasing because big law firms continue to eagerly vacuum up those fresh young faces, put them to work, skim off the profits, and then fire them when they fail to "make partner" a few years later.

The ABA's analysis of census figures indicates (to them) that "lawyers" and "attorneys" stop designating themselves as such long before their working lives would normally have been over. They are either retiring or finding other work.

I know a solo practitioner who cleared six figures in 2006. He won't come close to that in 2007 because he spent the year partnered with another attorney who spent as much on her lavish office as she brought into the firm in income. He freed himself of that bad situation but now he hates his practice. He can't quit because he's supporting a wife and three young children at home.

I've had my law license for a year as of May 15th. No one hired me in that year. I went on several very nice interviews but no job offers appeared. In between interviews I've been working as a contract attorney for a small firm that gives me various projects in dribs and drabs. It's fun and it's great experience but it's neither enough work nor enough money. It would have been enough if I hadn't had to split my fee with my law firm.

Last week, late at night, eyes wide open, I was staring at the darkened ceiling and waiting for sleep. I got up, switched on my computer, and in the dim light cast by my computer screen I went to the Secretary of State's website and registered my LLC. It took five minutes.

I'm striking out on my own. I'm going against the advice of Professors who told me the law has become far too complicated to try to go it alone. They may be right about telecommunications and tax law but I'm pretty sure I can figure out a simple will, a DUI, or a non-competition agreement. And if I can't, I'll just go begging to the Bar Association for help.

If I make $46,000 this year it will be about three times what I've made in any year since I quit my job to go to law school (a decision I've had to decide not to regret).

Yes friends, I started my first law firm while wearing my pajamas. I hope it's an auspicious omen. Wish me luck, please. I can't wait to start helping people, and getting paid. :)

* - Hidden Transformation of the Legal Industry, by Richard Sander, Vol. 12, #9, The Young Lawyer, June 2008, publ. American Bar Association Young Lawyer's Division.

Scott Fixed My Shoes

2008-05-24T18:09:00.005-06:00

I found these at DSW - the Discount Shoe Warehouse. They had one of those wonderful yellow stickers on the box, for 80% off.

They are nearly perfect for work because they're black and have a very short heel. I can stand up in them for hours. After I wore them once or twice that silly/fabulous gold chain began the inevitable falling-off process. I grumbled and kept wearing them, constantly re-attaching the chain when no one was looking.

One morning Scott, the most wonderful man in the world, disappeared with them to a mysterious dark room in the basement, from whence soon came squeaking and a few short "bangs" with (presumably) a hammer. Then Scott reappeared, fixed shoes in hand! No more shall the silly/fabulous gold chain fall off in a consistently annoying manner! Scott is a star.

It's the little things that get me . . .

Family Matters

2008-05-15T11:03:00.005-06:00

My uncle died last Tuesday. I got a nice letter from my cousins (apparently mailed the day before) in which we were exhorted to "go beyond the usual cards and flowers" to do something really special for him - send him a letter. So I started composing one for him in my head. It said only this:

"You and I both know what you did, but I forgive you. Thank you for what you gave to me. Have a nice trip."

With a strike-anywhere match enclosed, so he could destroy the evidence and what it might have wrongly suggested to prying eyes, after his death.

But then, oops, he died. I thought I was off the hook. But then my cousin asked me if I'd written a letter and I said I did but didn't have a chance to mail it in time. So my cousin asked me to send it anyway, because his Mom was collecting the letters in a memorial book. Erk! What should I do?? I'd rather just send a letter to my aunt.

Electronic Records Compliance

2008-05-04T09:30:00.002-06:00

Served up by none other than John Cleese!

http://www.friendlyadvicemachine.com/

Feel the Yearn

2008-04-25T10:33:00.002-06:00

At the gym this morning I did the unthinkable - I grabbed a magazine to read on the stair master: Oprah's magazine. But for once, rather than the usual savage beating such magazines normally bestow, I was rewarded this time. Oprah had interviewed Pema Chodron, a Buddhist nun. Her point is this - we humans often have complaints and discomfort with our lives as they are and we are constantly seeking a 'fix' for our problems. What if we could (I'm paraphrasing here) develop a passion for our lives as they are, rather than reserving our passion for the life we imagine we would rather have?

"The problem is that we have so little tolerance for uncomfortable feelings. I'm not even talking about unpleasant outer circumstances but for that feeling in your stomach that—or heart—that I don't want this to be happening."

And the solution? Feel the feeling, rather than dismissing it or medicating it away. Stay with it. Hold its hand, because it's what we have in common with other humans. It's what allows us to be compassionate with them even when they're behaving badly. My particular uncomfortable feeling is the yearning itself - I grow exceedingly weary of wishing for things to be different - different job, different hair, different wardrobe, a home, a sense of security, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

As I was driving home from the gym I listened to radio story about a special law in Colorado that makes it easier to charge juveniles as adults - a reaction to Denver's "Summer of Violence" in 1993. The interviewees were chock full of explanations and excuses on the prosecution side, questions and demands for accountability on the defense side. No one discussed compassion, because hey, that's a trigger word that would instantly label the argument as woo-woo and dismiss it as irrelevant.

Maybe it really is irrelevant. Compassion isn't something we can impose on ourselves or on other people. I've often admonished myself to "be compassionate," but if you have to admonish yourself, is it real? Wouldn't that be mere 'acting?' Yes, and it's fake - we can't know how to "act" compassionately if we don't experience real compassion in ourselves. We can't impose it on ourselves. But that's how we're most comfortable - we think if we buy the right product or repeat the right words in the right order, we'll feel better. Sooooooothing, isn't it.

Malignant Growths

2008-04-18T11:06:00.001-06:00

On March 20, 2008 I learned that my uncle has a large, malignant growth on his leg, and "fifty to sixty nodues on his lungs, that are probably malignant."

My first thought was "I wonder what 'nodue' means."

My uncle is a retired junior high school teacher in the L.A. public school system who referred to his students as "niggers," "spics," and "beaners." At home he was a violent alcoholic whose wife protected him with scorn and derision for anyone who came near, presumably because she feared their criticism. One Thanksgiving he punched me and my cousin, about 7 and 10 years old, in the head. Rapid fire, "bam bam," all at once, without spilling a drop of bourbon. More than 20 years later I can recall the dull pain in my jaw and hear the ice tinkling in his glass.

My cousin once innocently asked me why I feel bad about his father (my uncle) when he did "the best he could for his nieces" whose "real father was such a screw up." (Yes, that's my Dad he's talking about, who cared about what happened to me, who never laid a hand on me except with love, who paid my freshman tuition, who gave me a safe place to live in high school, who fixed up my series of old cars with his own hands free of charge, who gave me difficult books to read, who taught me to cook, who cared about what I thought and felt, and who told me never to settle for less than I deserved.) When I reminded my cousin of what happened that year at Thanksgiving he grew numb and said he doesn't remember. He wasn't defensive, he just faded away; changed the subject. He doesn't remember ANY of the beatings he received from his father while my mother and her sister stood greedily by, enjoying my cousin's fear and shame.

There was a time when the news about my uncle would have filled me with guilt and angry glee. But I don't feel glee. Just relief. And I don't feel guilty anymore when saying the world is simply better off without some people. Especially those whose only goal in life is to abuse others. I'm not advocating for the death penalty, I'm just suggesting that, if you truly love people, maybe feeling joy when their tormentors are dead is simply . . . normal.

I'm not sure what I feel about this news. It's a lot like having a malignant growth removed.

Denver at the Edge of Spring

2008-04-17T12:01:00.002-06:00

March at the Denver Botanic Gardens:

Enduring, stubborn little flower husks that refuse to fall over no matter what.
:)

The View OF My Desk

2008-04-11T09:38:00.005-06:00

This time, for reals, here's a bona fide snapshot of the corner of my desk - this time it's my desk at Scott's place:

Regrettably I lack the Photoshop sophistication to add cool labels just like my hero The Bloggess, but if I did I would have labeled: (A) the interesting fruit photo taken either in Africa or at the Sea of Cortez by my wildly talented and well-traveled future mother in law, (B) the folders labeled "Porta-Potty Incident 2008" and "Taxes 2007," and (C) a worth-while little book about verbal self-defense called "Tongue Fu," which is sitting in my inbox waiting for me to outline it.

That green thing (by the way) is my inbox.

Speaking of inboxes, this year I've been embracing the "Getting Things Done" method from David Allen's book by that title. It's been a revelation.

All the best to you and yours. :o)

The View From my Desk

2008-04-03T12:03:00.006-06:00

What has Red Flashlight been doing?

Taxes. More taxes. Other taxes.
Playing Settlers and Milles Bournes.
Moving unique pieces of paper from one location to another.
Suing a telecom provider under the Fair Credit Reporting Act.
Theorizing about the nature of the universe.
Teaching violence prevention to Middle School students.
Going to the gym.
Negotiating with insurance to repair the port-a-potty damage.
Watching "The Riches" on DVD.
Writing detailed disclosures under 'simplified procedure.'
Wondering why there's no beginner's manual for practicing law.
Worrying about family and wedding business.
Setting real estate showings for a start-up, part time.

An now, because I love including visuals, here's the view from my favorite 'desk:'

One drawback to this location: bad, loud music. Otherwise, It's my office of choice.

Court Quotes, Volume I, Issue 3 - What Not To Say

2008-03-07T08:09:00.007-07:00

I found today's issue of court quotes on "Thursday Drive." It describes an event from the 1970s. After enduring six years of mental torture and physical abuse, a pair of sisters are adopted by their truly evil stepmother:

The judge stepped down from the bench and came over to where we stood with our attorney, clustered around a wooden table. The moment was celebratory. He had just approved Sue’s adoption of my sister and me.
'Congratulations,' the judge said as he reached out to shake my hand. 'Now she can spank you legally.'

Horrible! Incredibly insensitive. I'll grant it's possible that he didn't know and had no reason to suspect the girls were being abused. But wouldn't you try to curb making 'jokes' like that anyway? Judges aren't (normally) psychic, but that only illustrates why they shouldn't presume everything is 'fine.'

Why Can't We Be Friends?

2008-03-04T15:05:00.005-07:00

We heard a great "gypsy jazz" band at a brunch at Chautauqua last week:

It was great. (I just said it was great twice. My brain hurts. Maybe it's cancer.)

I'm sitting at an internet cafe, writing a response to a 12(b)(6) and 56 motion in a case that should never have happened. The defendants are at war with each other and they don't care who gets hurt in the process. It reminds me of the massive brawl scene in the movie "Semi-Pro," set to the tune of "Why Can't We Be Friends?" The motion takes eight pages to say "it's the other guy's fault" and then twist the truth like a pretzel. Eight pages. Eeeeeevil.

Valentine's Day 2008

2008-02-28T11:19:00.005-07:00

We made art on Valentine's Day this year:

These aspen trees are wonderful! How does he do it?

I know what you're thinking: "what's that bottle of Nutella doing there?" I assure you it's all part of the secret process.

Court Quotes, Volume I, Issue 2 - The Dream Crusher

2008-02-25T19:18:00.006-07:00

Municipal Court. Judge is questioning a young man while the parents look sternly on.

J: Are you in school now?
YM: No.
[Young man wipes his nose with his jacket sleeve behind the unwashed curtain of his long, stringy hair.]
J: What are you doing now?
YM: Hanging out.
J: What do you want to do in the future? I mean, what's your plan for the future?
YM: To be an architectural engineer.
[Parents straighten their backs and put tight little smiles of repressed pride on their faces. Young man looks around the room with a cynical smirk and hooks a finger in his belt loop to hike up his drooping pants.]
J: That's gonna require a whole lot more school. At least four years of college so . . .
[Judge raises his eyebrows and lets the question hang there for a few seconds.]
YM: Yeah.
J: How much schooling do you have?
YM: 11th grade.
J: But you want to be an architectural engineer?
YM: Yes.
J: So why did you stop?
YM: Kicked me out.
Dad: We want to get him into job service or the military. And to get him off the marijuana.

The judge then gave him the typical writing assignment. Maybe a research assignment about the evils of drug use or something.

The whole thing leaves me unsatisfied. The parents seem a bit out to lunch and the kid's fantasy life is clearly out of control.

On a happier note: look what Scott brought home for me:

Dim sum! Is he not the dreamiest? Love you baby. :)

Blogs are not simply 'journals on line.'

2008-02-16T19:42:00.005-07:00

I literally had to wipe the dust off my journal this week. Some might say I've been neglecting it in favor of this blog. But those 'some' would be wrong - the content is different.

At the gym I read an article in the New Yorker about diaries. There were excerpts from Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. (urbane), Ronald Reagan (boring), and Andy Warhol (heh). Then I went to the front porch at Scott's house to think about the silly and uncontrollable melange my life has become. And to write something longhand. With a pen. (And take pictures of the steam rising from my Earl Grey - can you see it? It's on the right side, above the glass.)

Then I went downstairs to paint my journal gold.

Nifty Ad Slogan Generator

2008-02-10T08:15:00.000-07:00

Here's how the blogosphere works:

I notice the Hatchet seems to be hawking her own line of t-shirts, like "which twin has the Hatchet?" Hilarious. I click through to "The Bloggess" only because her blog has a cool name, but I have such a good time there I add her site to my list of favorites. I grow enamored of the possibility that I, too, may generate my very own pink-T-Shirt-wearing sloganized memorialization of the Red Flashlight. I click through to The Advertising Slogan Generator, and post the results for your viewing pleasure.

Rehearsal Dinner Location

2008-02-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

Scott's Mom found us a great location for our rehearsal dinner! The Molkery in Denver:

Historic. Recently renovated. Surrounded by a large park with big playground. Very cool for the ARMY of children that will be there. Thanks, Scott's Mom! :o)

Road Hazards

2008-01-19T11:54:00.001-07:00

I've never been in a car accident. In my several years of driving I'm proud to say I've never hit anything or anyone. My car has been hit by other things however, including an airport shuttle, a deer, and on one glorious, windy morning on I-25 last Wednesday, my car was hit by one of these:

Yes, that's a port-a-potty.

Only at the time it was horizontal and flying.

Impacting it squarely on one side my car simply went right through it. It damaged my car but left only bits of itself behind to lie sadly against the guardrail and dot the freeway with crumpled pieces of fiberglass and plastic.

Hood? Dented and scratched. Windshield? Scratched. Side panels? Scratched. Side view mirror? Gone. Front bumper? Broken and now decorated with what I assume is a shredded piece of toilet paper.

In my rear view the next moment I noticed two things: (1) I was about to be rear-ended by a guy watching the spectacle of several port-a-potties flying off the back of a truck, and (2) there was sure to be a massive, multi-car pile-up on the evening news.

I get to tell my story to the police tomorrow. The guys at the Honda dealership got a kick out of it, but I'm sure the police will take a more sober approach.

What about you? Anyone else hit or been hit by an unexpected, bizarre, or inexplicable object?

Court Quotes, Volume I, Issue 1

2008-01-12T11:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I scratch down quick little quotes I hear in court. This is from Municipal Court in a not-very-quiet little town on the Colorado plains:

Judge: "In addition, it looks like you still owe $130 from your last appearance. Can you pay that today?"
Defendant: "No."
Judge: "How soon do you think you can get that taken care of?"
Defendant: "I don't know . . . I can pay a few dollars today but I still can't find a job."
Judge: "Okay well talk to the court clerk and pay what you can, but remember: sometimes it's easier to send people to jail than it is to keep dragging them back here every month for little ten-dollar payments. Is that what you want to do?"
Defendant: "No, sir."
Judge: "Then I recommend you find a way to pay this off."
[Judge bends over the file, scribbling a note.]
Judge: "See you in a month."

Xavier Enigma

2008-01-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

Scott found this:

http://www.enigmasand.com/games/nphys/

Is it a game? Is it art? Is it science? I love it. Have fun.

Art and Commodification

2008-01-04T19:20:00.000-07:00

Scott and I went to the Louvre's "Artisans and Kings" show at the Denver Art Museum. I love this painting: Infanta Margherita by Diego Velasquez. (But not as much as I love Las Meninas for its disturbing freakiness.)

Many pieces were from the famous Sevres Porcelain Manufactury:

The thing about Sevres porcelain - they're still making it. And people are still buying it. The Sevres Manufactury survived the very bloody French revolution and its products continue to be a symbol of wealth and . . . er . . . 'good taste.' (No offense intended, if you're a fan.)

Afterwards, happily munching greasy hamburgers wrapped in paper, we talked about the antithetical (or perhaps symbiotic?) nature of bourgeois versus bohemian values. (More accurately I went "blah blah blah" about art and Scott politely listened. Bless him.)

Then we toured a few galleries on Santa Fe. Interesting to view the contrast between "proven" works of value (formerly owned by the Kings and Queens of France) and works artists are currently aiming to sell. Verrrry verrrry interesting.

Come-on-I-wanna- KwanzaaHanukKhristmas-ya

2007-12-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

There was snow on Christmas day. It flew through the air in a frozen powdery mist from Scott's shovel while I watched from the front porch, shivering like the winter wimp I am.

The stockings were filled with chocolate, pecans, snowman earrings, gift certificates for automobile maintenance, pizza cutters, maple candies, and polar-bear socks from Dorothy's trip to the tundra this year.

We have been spending time with family and friends - reconnecting, meeting new people, and telling stories. My Christmas cards remain sitting in a box, unused and baleful. Don't worry guys - your day will come. Some time before Valentines Day, I promise . . .

The Cake

2007-12-13T09:14:00.000-07:00

Did I mention? We found The Cake. It was at Whole Foods. (No, I didn't take this photo with my new camera phone. It's from the Whole Foods PR people.)

All natural ingredients, several flavors, muy delicioso, they can decorate in a wedding theme, and best of all . . . much less expensive than any of the other bakers we tried! Who knew?!

We're working on finding the right venue. Would love to use the Chautauqua Community House but we have more well-wishers than will fit inside. Scott and I will be tasting dinner options at the Chautauqua dining hall tonight. :)

New Phone

2007-12-10T10:12:00.000-07:00

Scott gave me a new phone for my birthday - it's got everything, every bell and whistle. My old Verizon phone was soooo past retirement age. I'm delighted I can now check my e-mail when stuck in traffic. One of the great banes of my existence is the helplessness and guilt of being caught in a jam.

Another great feature: it has a camera! (Repressed artist within cackles with glee.)

Some of my handiwork so far:

Cappuccino Chez Hatchet. Merci, Hatchets!

Poster the kids made at my "Date Smart" class last week. Each foot is a "step" that each kid wants to take to "end dating violence." At this size it's not possible to read but at full size it's great for documenting what the kids were learning. I took this picture so our program coordinator could see how the class progressed. My favorite foot on this poster says simply "groceries!" (Because a trip to the grocery store is one of the surreptitious ways you can get away from violence at home, and call the police.)

Champagne with play-doh sculpture at Liz' birthday party.

Happy birthday, Liz!

(Artistically blurred, no? Very deep.)

Friends celebrating Liz.

For me this picture shows what this little camera is for: capturing the moment.

We had a lovely time.

Thank you, Scott. I love my new phone! You are a handsome jewel of the rarest quality.
:)

Brilliant.

2007-11-14T11:05:00.001-07:00

Ashleigh Brilliant is cool. He's a funky, 1970's, hippie-esque artist who doesn't take anything particularly seriously, and I love that! Plus, I'm way into word-art.

Here's a great one-liner from "Pot Shots:"
"If you must keep groaning, please try to do it in a rhythm I can dance to."

http://www.ashleighbrilliant.com/

Just Add Water

2007-11-05T13:25:00.000-07:00

This year, for the very first time, I'm considering . . . the formerly unthinkable . . .

holiday newsletter to the family.

Tasteless and evil? Impersonal and manipulative? Inevitable result of geographical distance? Stop-gap measure to stay connected to family and friends while we wait for them to enter the age of the internet?

More and more people are doing it . . . even people I respect . . .

Urbane Cowboy

2007-10-30T12:46:00.001-06:00

I'm at an internet cafe. There's a gay man with a purple arm cast speaking a variety of languages into his cell phone, watching me. To see if I notice? To see if I'm listening? Now he's giggling with his super-model friend. Cute cute cute. When you're out, you're out.

We went with a friend to sample a possible wedding venue last night: the White Fence Farm. Closed Mondays. So we traipsed Westward, looking for "the Old Country," an Italian place on Union Boulevard. Closed forever.

And then . . . Red Lobster. It was there, it was open, we entered, we ate, we conquered.

Special evenings are those that seem at first to flirt with frustration and boredom but morph into something memorable and fun. My friend had just quit her job and was in the very rare position of being able to tell her icky boob-watching boss to f*** off when he asked her for two weeks notice. I love it! I almost shot lobster linguine sauce out my nose. Funny how being in the right makes us brave and strong.

My cast-wearing neighbor in the cafe is now singing along (out loud) to "Watching the Detectives." He's here, he's queer, he wants us all to know it.

Mimsy

2007-10-28T18:50:00.000-06:00

Twas Brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimbol in the wabe.

Scott and I have been gyring and gimboling all over town, tasting wedding cake. We went to Mulberry's bakery on South Pearl Street. Not great, and no coffee. Not even for sale.

Then we took Scott's mom to do a second tasting at Das Meyer - we tasted a LOT of flavors. But we had a nice, eggy breakfast first. So it was yummy. No headache. It's sure looking like Das Meyer is the place for us. (I've been in touch with Whole Foods but they are not very good at returning calls.)

Now all I need is a dress. Eeeeeeeeeek! Very scary thought for Halloween, no? I wonder what size I'll be in July?

Habeas Corpus

2007-10-16T11:24:00.000-06:00

"No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any other way, nor will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgment of his equals or by the law of the land." Magna Carta, Article 39 (1215). This is the "great writ," habeus corpus. In practice it requires the government to actually produce a defendant and try him in a properly constituted court of law before it imprisons him. It prevents the government from making people disappear.

I read a great article this morning: Is Habeus Corpus a Corpse?, Craig Eley, The Docket, Vol. 29, Issue 9 (Denver Bar Association, October 2007). Mr. Eley makes an excellent point about Alberto Gonzales' treatment of habeus corpus:

Mr. Gonzales' position is that, since the constitution doesn't affirmatively grant the right to habeus, we Americans don't actually have that right. Never mind that the constitution says the government can suspend habeus in times of rebellion or invasion. (U.S. Constitution, Article I, section 9.) But by Mr. Gonzales' logic, Americans also don't have the rights to free speech, free press, peaceful assembly, free exercise of religion, and to petition their government for a redress of grievances. Why? Because the U.S. Constitution doesn't affirmatively grant those rights. Rather, it states that Congress may not abridge those rights. (U.S. Constitution, First Amendment.)

I love it! What a smarty pants. :)

The Girl that Blows Sunshine Tastes Bad Wedding Cake and Lives to Gripe About It

2007-10-09T15:14:00.000-06:00

I generally try to find the best in people and situations. I generally try to find a way to turn a bad experience around, find the lesson learned, accentuate the positive, etcetera. In fact, I've often withheld an urge to say (out loud even) that I am offended by people who take offense at what are really just little annoyances.

But sometimes you just have to vent. So here's my moment.

We went to another wedding cake tasting last weekend. We even dragged along a friend to experience the joy / endure the nastiness. Our experience at Das Meyer may have spoiled us for anything else. Rather than bore you with a long diatribe, I'll just give you a list of highlights:

1) These "cakes" were miniatures that she made especially for us. They were too small, about three bites of each flavor. I had made an appointment a month ago, for FOUR of us.
2) In spite of the tiny size, these cakes were more than adequate for the three of us. Because they didn't taste good.
3) They tasted like chemicals and that lovely "these have been inside a dirty refrigerator for a month" taste.
4) The baker-lady had dirty fingernails.
5) There was no coffee.
6) She told us with pride that all of her fillings come from a can or a jar.
7) She told us with pride that her "whipped cream" frosting had almost no dairy in it!
8) She told us with a bit of patronizing scorn that "quinceneras" like a lot of fru-fru and frosting on their cakes. "Isn't that silly. Yee-haw, how 'bout them silly brown people? Ain't they cute?" (Not a direct quote, but that's how it came across.)
9) The baker simply COULD NOT stop talking about herself, even though she had almost nothing interesting to say. Mostly just complaints about other people.
10) These cakes were about 70% more expensive than Das Meyer's.
11) She gave us plastic forks and presented her cakes on styrofoam.

I'll grant you that number 11 is probably not relevant. But once you get me started, it's hard to stop. Hear that, people? I hate plastic forks and styrofoam. So there. :P

Things That are Good, part 3 - Coffee Houses in Boulder

2007-10-02T10:54:00.000-06:00

Generally, in order of my preference and/or my experience. (Related tangents, no?)

1) The Trident! Has wireless! But it has no power outlets (yet). It is, of course, on West Pearl Street. Early mornings the back room is a de facto reading room for scholarly types. At night the population generally shifts to a more youthful but mostly studying crowd. Afternoons, well, it's a tangy little melange of adults: tourists, local shop-keepers getting a fix, philosophy talkers, writers, etc.

2) Espressoria, Pearl Street, kitty-corner to Snarf's. Good access to mostly healthy food. Occasionally jammed with dance students.

3) Caffe Sole in Table Mesa, near Weaver's Dive Shop. "Study room" is awesome, in part because the patrons who use it expect quiet and are willing to enforce it.

4) Folsom Street Coffee, at Canyon and Folsom (remember Dunkin' Donuts? That's the spot.) Unreliable wireless, but there are two or three ethernet ports and they may have a cord you can borrow. Very comfy chairs. Jammed with CU students. If parking is an issue outside seating will be an issue inside, so it's good to cruise past and asess the lot before you commit to the inevitable U-turn around the traffic island on Canyon.

5) The cafe in the Dairy Center for the Performing Arts. Very cold air conditioning. Bring a sweater. Always interesting art. Power outlets are far away from the cafe tables - bring an extension cord.

6) Traveller's Cafe - across from the Pulse and the Boulder Bus station. Chairs are made of chain-link type metal welded together. Perhaps an incentive not to stay too long?

7) Brewing Market - BaseMar at Broadway and Baseline. Never tried their internet. I hear you have to re-log every 30 minutes. Sometimes jammed with law students. Excellent access to food - Wild Oats is right next door.

8) Allison Boutique - Pearl street near Foolish Craig's and Mountain Sun. Tiny. Never tried their internet.

9) Buchanan's on the hill. Never tried their internet. I hear there are limited power outlets - bring a splitter and an extension cord.

And if you're a true fan, apparently there's a blog for wireless coffee shops in Boulder -
http://www.nosenada.org/BoulderCoffee/

Things That are Stupendously and Inexpressibly Good

2007-09-27T21:12:00.000-06:00

Emma and Logan were born today!
I was one of the first to bid them hello and welcome. (Ribs bursting with pride.)

Guess what I did today?

2007-09-25T17:57:00.000-06:00

I'm writing the first prenuptial agreement of my legal career.

:) !

Of academics, privilege, and the practical world - what next?

2007-09-18T10:09:00.001-06:00

The play "Third" is currently showing at the Denver Center for Performing Arts. We saw it last night - it was pretty accurate in its portrayal of a hackneyed, aging, liberal academic. The acting was particularly good - evocative of the real thing. It conjured for me my naive undergraduate self, and things I thought would be true about me and my year-2007-world. These things never materialized.

When I was an undergraduate I spent a lot of time pursuing comfort in the form of English Literature. I took Virginia Woolf's advice: “by hook or by crook" I found "money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream.”

It sure was a good time.

I thought my life in 2007 would contain more of the same: I would become some sort of professional but my employment experience would continue to challenge my mind and give me plenty of opportunities for cerebral 'play.' The world of academia seemed to hold out the promise that if I read everything in the canon I would be a complete person, worthy of respect and a paycheck.

:)

The reality is, well . . . not like that. I got up this morning, saw my man off to work, bathed, watered the lawn, returned some library books, went to the grocery store, put away laundry, and now I'm sitting down to work. The rest of my day will be spent like this: do some maintenance on my daytimer, make birthday brownies, make phone calls to various court clerks and clients, continue work on an article intended to equip lawyers to pursue or defend corporate veil-piercing claims, write a letter to a client's bank begging for mercy and/or attempting to restructure some (in my view) unconscionable loans, drive up to the law library in Boulder to return books on tax-exempt entities and pick up a book on criminal procedure, meet with the partner at my firm to pick up a client's file, then rush back to Denver in time to share birthday dinner with a friend. Then, if there's time before I sleep, read a bit of the very practical, non-literary, practitioner-type books that move through my life: "Getting Things Done;" "Tongue-Fu, How to Deflect, Disarm, and Defuse a Verbal Conflict;" and "The Criminal Trial from Start to Finish in Colorado."

But I want to read the letters of Jane Austen! I want to read "Gravity's Rainbow!" I want to make a cozy space in a comfortable chair and read for 14 hours straight without stopping! I want "to travel and to idle!" I want to write and paint and read and rub my hands against the textures of this amazing sparkly opera all around me! But I've chosen to do something else. Virginia Woolf's advice is great for young women who've been kept in the dark about the world: she seems to be telling them to get 'selfish' if that's what it takes to pursue the privilege of education.

But Virginia Woolf's advice isn't relevant for young professional women. Once the privilege of education has been achieved, what next?

Sugar Shock

2007-09-15T19:21:00.000-06:00

Today was the day of the great wedding cake tasting extravaganza at Das Meyer bakery in Arvada! Between the two of us we "tasted" eight flavors of wedding cake, looked at photographs and floor samples of extravagantly decorated, delicious-looking, and surprisingly inexpensive wedding cakes, and mulled the price tags of a great variety of sizes and flavors.

We tasted:
"Berries in a Cloud,"
Chocolate Carmel . . . something,
Creme Brulee,
Orange . . . something,
Lemon . . . something,
Chocolate chip,
Carrot cake, and
"White on white."

By "tasted" I mean they gave us a single plate with a full slice of each flavor. So basically, we each ate most of about four pieces of cake this afternoon. It's 7:30 p.m. and my head still hurts. Scott, bless him, drove us there and back. Then he crashed while I played "World of Warcraft" in a decidedly slumped and zombie-like state.

We have at least three more bakeries to try out - next time I'll be armed with protein.

Of heroes, villians, and 'incessant media scrutiny.'

2007-09-04T12:20:00.001-06:00

Remember the guy who knifed a CU student in the neck last week? He was institutionalized, not sent to jail, because . . . news flash . . . he was crazy. In fact he had tried a similar act in 2001 and been institutionalized for it, but was apparently bounced into society too soon with too little supervision, presumably because Colorado's mental health programs can't afford to do more.

The victim's family issued this press release today:

One week ago, our son, Michael Knorps, was thrust headlong into the media spotlight because he was the victim of an assault on the campus of the University of Colorado at Boulder. This inexplicable act of violence has, since that time, brought our close family even closer together, tested Michael's youthful character in ways he and we never imagined, and presented us with a traumatic moment in the life of our family.

[Thanks for] the outpouring of support [ . . . ]

But the time has arrived for Michael to take his rightful place in his class, within the larger student body of CU-Boulder, without the burden on himself, his classmates and indeed, the larger university, of accommodating public curiosity and incessant media scrutiny. With this in mind, we are making an urgent, personal appeal to the local and national media to let Michael do this without it becoming a story. More directly, we are asking you not to personally contact our son, or members of our family who live here in Boulder, hoping to get pictures, interviews and "the inside story" of what happened to Michael.

In truth, there is no "inside story." Michael was the victim of a violent crime that injured him and traumatized his family. There is no greater drama here, no deeper story, no larger meaning. The "news" - and it is not news to people who know Michael personally - is that this remarkable young man has recovered from this attack physically and will, with the support of his family and friends, recover emotionally and spiritually over time. But that is a private, not a public, process.

We make this appeal both as parents and as people of goodwill. We know the media have a job to do, and we are willing to accommodate your questions (on a limited basis) through the following e-mail address: Knorps_Family_media_questions@Yahoo.com. We ask that all questions be submitted by September 7, 2007 and we will try to respond by September 10, 2007. We will not respond to any questions related to the legal or criminal aspects of this incident. In the meantime, we ask again that Michael be permitted to have, starting this week, the experience he was denied last week: being just another college student, ready to start a new chapter of his life. We believe he has earned that right. We ask you to respect it.

Thank you.

The George Knorps family, on behalf of Michael Knorps.

Hear, hear.* Points very well taken. Humanity's unbridled lust for blood stories is revealed by the wild success sensational media outlets enjoy.

This press release was carefully crafted by someone with a sophisticated understanding of how infotainment media works. Probably not the Knorps family. Ostensibly this document is intended merely to shift unwarranted attention away from one who was a victim of a mundane "crime" brought about by another's illness. But on reading it one can scarcely avoid the writer's deep and abiding criticisms of the news media. This document says "please don't trample on our right to privacy and then profit by the suffering of an innocent family." A prejudicial request and one that a sane media would rightly be insulted by. But I predict the media won't be insulted. Why? Because taking insult isn't profitable, and as the media well knows: 'truth is a complete defense.'

Here's what I want to know: where is the press release from the attacker's family? There is none, perhaps because "we," the viewing public, don't want to know about him even though evidence suggests we should: we love horror flicks and novels involving slashers and mentally unbalanced people. Do we like our villains to be fictional, and our heroes to be real?

* - Or is it "here here?" "Hear, here?"

Ethics.

2007-09-02T21:35:00.000-06:00

How's this for bad behavior: Matter of Callaghan, 42 B.R. 821 (Bkrtcy. Mich. 1984).

Tom takes his $20,000 motor home to Bob to have the brakes fixed in time for his vacation. Bob does not fix the brakes in time and Tom ends up storing the motor home at Bob's garage while Tom is away. Vandals break in and trash the motor home. Tom's insurance company arranges repairs but asks Tom to pay a $100 deductible. Bob takes $3,000 from the insurance company and spends it on his corporation's operating expenses. But Bob never makes the repairs. He then offers to waive storage fees for the motor home if Tom agrees to hire Bob to make the repairs. Tom does so. Once again, the repairs are not accomplished in time for Tom's vacation the following year. Tom suffers a work-related injury, is bedridden, and never pays the $100 he still owes Bob for work that Bob may (or may not) have done on the motor home.

Bob threatens to sell the motor home to cover Tom's $100 indebtedness. A court issues a restraining order to prevent Bob from selling the motor home.

Bob sells the motor home the next day for $500 to satisfy the contested $100 bill. We assume he kept the other $400.

You lawyers out there know that Bob's action isn't legal: he did not engage in a commercially reasonable sale, he converted the insurance company's money, he violated a restraining order, and (as a bailee) he was probably liable for the vandalism to Tom's motor home in the first place.

Most everyone would agree that in addition, Bob's actions were just not right.

My question is this: why did Bob do it? It's like the financial version of "suicide by cop." Big surprise: Bob went bankrupt. Bob denied any personal responsibility for the motor home incident because his garage was a corporation. The bankruptcy court opined that "the entire transaction, orchestrated by [Bob], smacks of a grudge match over a $100 insurance deductible balance." Id. at 826. Miffed, the bankruptcy court imposed a $20,796 (plus) judgment on Bob, personally.*

What can we take from this little episode beyond the black-letter-law lessons? Obviously this: not everyone is a rational-self-interested-actor, John Stuart Mill / Adam Smith - style.

Business owners have a duty to act ethically, regardless of the law. Business ethics ought to involve "doing good," not merely "not doing bad." Consider the following: the story of Tom and Bob is probably more complex than can be revealed in a bankruptcy court's opinion. What seems to be a grudge match could just as easily be explained by simple inattention: poor communication between Bob and his employees brought on by any of a number of factors. Acting ethically in Bob's situation would have meant taking affirmative action - to make sure his garage was secure, to buy appropriate insurance coverage, to communicate with his employees, to monitor their actions, and to delegate authority to a manager if necessary.

We need an ethical paradigm for "doing good" that includes the merely quotidian actions that Bob should have taken, without the suspect morality associated with "the work ethic."

* - The court found that Bob's personal participation in the intentional tort of conversion justified finding him personally liable, but the court goes on to talk about applicability of the remedy of piercing the corporate veil. Bob can't win under either theory.

Things That are Good, part 2 - Coffee Houses in Denver

2007-08-30T11:09:00.001-06:00

1) The Perk Hill Coffee house, South of 26th street on Kearney. Free wireless, coffee, an army of cute preschoolers and their mothers*, classic jazz albums decorating the walls, art galleries across the street, a pilates studio next door, etc. On the menu: milkshakes in any flavor you want (from their ice cream selection of about 10 flavors), with 4 shots of espresso.

2) Geeze Louise Coffee house, on Colfax near Elm Street. Free wireless, coffee, nice people, funky atmosphere hosted by a mannequin named Louise. On the menu: secret recipe mochas which feature tiny delicious chunks of warm melty chocolate in the bottom of your glass.

3) The St. Mark's Coffee house, on 17th street just West of Josephine/York. Free wireless, coffee, an army of people who want to focus on quiet study. (Caveats: Music occasionally too loud, bathroom too small for large number of patrons.) On the menu: large tea selection, not bad peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, delicious egg-and-cheese bagels smushed into a panini press.

4) The Pennsylvania Perc Coffee house, at the corner of Pennsylvania and 13th streets. Free wireless, coffee, frigidly cold air conditioning. (Caveats: parking limited, baked goods overpriced and unexciting.) On the menu: paninis, especially the Molly Brown.

5) Budgie's crepes, 17th street somewhere between Grant and Vine on the South side. Free wireless, coffee. (Caveat: closes very early, right after lunch.) On the menu: totally delicious brie and salami crepes.

* - Where are the fathers? Work? Home? The park? Maybe the mid-morning playdate at the local coffee house is a strictly female phenomenon?

Things that are good.

2007-08-27T10:40:00.000-06:00

1) Whisky.

My new dental work has developed complications. Yesterday my poor fiancee had to stand staunchly by and witness as I went from pain to worse pain to constantly bathing my sore teeth with ice water every 20 seconds to avoid entering the 7th circle of Hell, even taking side trips off the interstate to raid the ice machine at Safeway, and then again at McDonald's. How does one sleep while bathing a tooth every 20 seconds, you ask? We scurried to the internet last night to find out. Which leads me to the next good thing:

2) The internet.

Turns out you can put a stop to the eternal 20-second cycle of ice water treatments by bathing the area with mouthwash, or better yet, whisky. Teeth still hurt, but that horrific 7th-level-of-Hell feeling subsides nicely for several hours. Big thank you to the several people who posted this advice on line, for free. I slept just fine last night, and my teeth didn't start to hurt again until after I woke up. In the car on the way to my dentist my complication developed another complication, and I whiled away the usual traffic jam on the way to Boulder by making bargains with God and using mouthwash every 10 minutes or so.*

My dentist reports that the mouthwash/whisky trick works simply because alcohol is a topical anesthetic. Not because it kills germs, and of course it won't cure your tooth problem. As your dental problem worsens alcohol loses its ability to relieve pain for very long, which is why there's:

3) Novocaine.

Sweet, sweet Novocaine.

I'm off to see the endo- and/or periodontist this afternoon, presumably for a root canal.

Wild entertainment beyond belief!

:)

* - I don't believe in "God" but making bargains with an imaginary deity seemed better at the time than praying for death.

Road Rash

2007-08-18T11:40:00.000-06:00

I have finally finished moving into my new apartment. Body and mind exhausted, but I nevertheless got enough sleep last night. The upside to hard physical work: easy for me to fall asleep.

Now must focus on the next big project: writing a memo, due Monday. But first . . .

Someone close to me (let's call him Rex) was in a motorbike accident. A bicyclist decided to swerve from the right side of Cherry street to the left side of the south-bound lane, presumably to turn left, in front of Rex. As a result Rex was faced with this choice: 1) hit the bicyclist and perhaps careen into oncoming traffic, 2) careen into oncoming traffic, or 3) set the motorbike down on the pavement and try not to break any bones.

He chose the latter. Then the bicyclist turned around and asked "are you all right?" Rex, lying in a tumble and bleeding on the pavement, responded "no." The bicyclist then replied "I have to go, I don't want to get in trouble," and pedaled away. Folks in the cars coming along Cherry stopped and called the ambulance.

What the heck happened there?! What kind of trouble could possibly be worse than dealing with the guilt of knowing that you caused someone injury and then just ran away?

Anyway, Rex is fine - aside from some broken ribs and road rash. He's on Vicodin. :)

Rinse and Repeat

2007-08-13T07:54:00.000-06:00

I love people. I have met and known some extraordinary characters over the years. (And I'm just getting started.) But various events occur (and recur in different guises) with relentless predictability to remind us that people are temporary.

Compounding that difficulty, people tend to approach slowly but depart quickly. I enjoy the approach with a sort of growing, smiley feeling but the departure is usually abrupt and always horrifying.

Ways to avoid the problem:

Drink a lot. Meet extraordinary characters and behave dangerously around them to make sure they never call.
Stay home. Unplug the phone and watch Netflix. Remain civil and outwardly friendly to coworkers but save your best self for your lonely inner dialogue.
Use non-humans as surrogate friends. (Emo. Celebrities. Porn.)
Ignore everyone. Save your energy for conversations with the people inside your head.
Be overly critical. Remind people of your negative evaluations of others. Make sure no one is worthy of your love.
Fall in love with a shallow and sarcastic jackass and then dump your friends because they're not stylish enough for him/her. Then fall out of love before something really bad happens.

Or don't avoid 'the problem.' Embrace it. Enjoy everyone and then cry a lot later. And keep crying and enjoying until you're dead.

Personally, I hate crying. But it seems like the least painful option. It's been working for me so far.

Riduculization. Green chile.

2007-08-04T10:33:00.000-06:00

Certain friends of mine, when engaged in intense "in your face" argumentation and discussion, are reputed to occasionally lunge in and lick the faces of their opponents. These are grown men. Adults. Who nevertheless understand that argumentators are often in need of a good ridiculization.

New topic, totally unrelated. I went to a Mexican restaurant in New Jersey. There were no margaritas, no beer, and most importantly: no green chile. They had green sauce but it was tomatillo sauce. I enjoy regional differences in food so I'm not complaining. I ordered chicken mole and it was delicious. :)

Here's another New Jersey phenomenon: pork rolls. I hear varied reports of what they might be. Is it a roll with a slice of ham on it? Does 'roll' refer to the bread? Or is 'roll' the shape of the meat? Is it Spam? I am in New Jersey. I must taste it.

I Ain't Sayin' She a Gold Digger.

2007-07-30T11:04:00.000-06:00

And now for an excerpt from a song by Kanye West:

Now I aint sayin she a gold digger
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz

Other excerpts reveal that "she" has four children by another man or men. The narrator lampoons men who love women in spite of public opinion and advises them to insist on prenuptial agreements. Then he advises women to 'stick by the side' of hard working men with "ambition," and "stay right" even though inevitably:

when you get on he leave yo ass for a white girl.

http://www.lyricstop.com/g/golddigger-kanyewestfjamiefoxx.html

Popular radio bleeps out the word "nigger" when this song is on the air.* Because of this the internet is of course wild with copious commentary on the nature of language and the evils of censorship, including this wonderfully obtuse little footnote:

"deductive arguments are only valid if they are tautologies - useful for eliminating obfuscation or 'unpacking' meanings in complex symbology." Richard Noggin, "the Explainer," at http://fray.slate.com/discuss/forums/thread/14575.aspx (June 2007, Fray.Slate.com).

In my view what's missing from the online dialogue is gender politics. Within the song's rhetoric a single mother who does not "mess with broke niggers" is by definition a 'gold digger' and on the other hand a man who works hard and has ambition deserves the commodity of womanly support until he can trade up for "a white girl." I interpret these lyrics as farcical. An attempt to make human tragedies seem comic. If so, the real target of the lampoon is not the gold-digging woman but the hapless man who falls in love with her.

One response to the gendered warfare described in the lyrics might be that mutual objectification is deserved. (Never mind that a custodial parent has virtually no bargaining power to make a fair contract with the absent parent or potential step-parent.)

Another response might be compassion towards those who are (unfortunately) more comfortable with mutual objectification as a basis for relationships, rather than the partnership model. In that perspective 'gold digger' might be seen as a term of affection, mirroring the recent transformation of the word "nigger" in Caucasian consciousness from taboo to endearing (much to the delight, horror, and fascination of Caucasian America).

Just what is Mr. West attempting to do with this farce? Does he mean to call our attention to the inequities of single parenting? Is he asking us to broaden our minds to encompass nigger/gold digger partnerships as a loving and supportive alternative to traditional marriage? Rubbish. Rather, he is resigned and cynical, urging a continuation of (and winking at) what he thinks are the eternal, never evolving consequences of human sexuality, chanting "get down girl, go 'head get down." Mr. West understands that the listening public is also resigned and cynical, ready to step up and hand over money for confirmation that its feelings of cynicism and victimization are justified.

Do these lyrics make people angry? They do because they use the word "nigger," but so far I haven't seen much debate over Mr. West's less than generous treatment of families and human sexuality. Is that because we're more resigned and cynical about gender issues than we are about race?

* Americans know how to spell "nigger."'Soulful' or trendy pronunciation and spelling merely supply nuance to the meaning of the word, nothing more.

One who verbs is an associated noun.*

2007-07-24T12:13:00.000-06:00

One who buys is a buyer.
One who sells is a seller.
And most importantly at this moment, companies that sell insurance are insurance companies, with all the rights and duties thereunto appertaining. Except when they aren't.

Mere policing doesn't result in officer status.
But mere selling does result in seller status, licensed or otherwise. Complete with associated fines.

*Scott is a dreamy fount of useful quips.

Metaphors on a Monday Morning

2007-07-23T07:01:00.000-06:00

I broke a crown. (Much preferred to breaking a tooth!)

I was eating . . . um . . . how d'ya call 'em . . . we ought to have a P.C. word for them because they're so delicious but as far as I know, we don't. (Can anyone assist?) They're the brown, unpopped kernels in the bottom of the popcorn bowl. Wikipedia unabashedly reports the "popcorn industry" refers to them as "old maids" but offers no other term for them, instead linking us right to the article on "spinsters."

I love the English language because of its rich opportunities for metaphor. I broke my crown while trying to crush an old maid, you see.

I don't mind going to the dentist because I have a really good one. :)

Maybe she's already awake . . .

2007-07-19T12:46:00.000-06:00

I'm at "the office"* today, unsupervised and contemplating the nature of adult responsibility. Is 'adult responsibility' intrinsically good? Shifting via pun to another knowledge domain, is 'adult responsibility' actually just a public good?

A friend of mine has posted an entry about her inner female triumvirate: girl, lawyer, and mommy. She writes of putting the girl within into a coma. My response is sadness. The girl within is a spark of glory! The girl within is the real person. The lawyer and mommy roles are extra limbs grafted on, like Shiva's. Let the girl go! Wake her up so at least she can watch. Life is a grand, sparkly opera.

"The Buddhist tradition teaches the truth of impermanence, or the transitory nature of things. The past is gone and the future has not yet happened, so we work with what is here -- the present situation. This actually helps us not to categorize or theorize. A fresh, living situation is taking place all the time, on the spot. This noncategorical approach comes from being fully here, rather than trying to reconnect with past events. We don't have to look back to the past in order to see what people are made out of. Human beings speak for themselves, on the spot." - Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

* Internet Cafe.

Gym. Office. Home.

2007-07-16T21:16:00.000-06:00

Today's itinerary: gym, "the office," tour of a possible new apartment, Chez Scott for more "office," then dinner.

My gym has fancy new lockers which will cut down on the line that forms at the front desk - we no longer have to wait for a locker key. I go to a nice gym. It has all the trimmings including a vast, burgundy leather, S-shaped sofa in the locker room, ironing boards and irons, Q-tips, cotton balls, organic hairspray, a dedicated full-time nametagged human being who monitors fullness levels of said supplies, and a special cooling water filter from which to fill one's water bottle. Grabbing my complimentary cup of gourmet coffee and surveying our fancy new panels of convenience and joy, I overheard a nicely-dressed lady not budging in her strong opinion that, since she's "been a member here for 13 years" and was attached to her old locker, she no longer has a use for one. "I won't have one of those" she said to the unfortunate and apologetic nametagged girl who came along to show her how to use her new locker. Looking around at my hurried compatriots, jamming themselves into or peeling themselves out of gym clothes, I noticed them noticing the non-budging lady's comments but not smiling. Rather, they seemed to be looking sidelong at one another in a sly sort of poker-faced silence. Me, I smiled. Just like this: :o)

It isn't so hard.

When I say "office" I generally mean internet cafe, but I might also mean my place or the back lanai at Chez Scott. Anyplace that has power and connectivity. Why? Because I'm a tele-commuter. The price of gasoline being what it is (unknown because I've quit looking at the price when I fill up), I avoid driving to the little office in the little mountain town where my boss works. (Unless the teleportation unit is broken and I have to *gasp* look at the actual file. Praise Jesus for pdf.)

I'm thinking of moving to a new apartment, closer to Chez Scott and less expensive than the bat cave. Much as I love the bat cave, that "less expensive" quality becomes significantly more important the longer I go without finding a Job. Also thinking of finding a gym with fewer trimmings. In Denver these are the options I've found: pay a vast sum for a palatial gym with tons of equipment and amenities, pay a vast sum for a crowded, so-so gym with a medium amount of equipment and no amenities, pay almost nothing for a hot room full of sweaty guys and equipment that smells like rust, or . . . pay almost nothing for an okay gym without the one piece of equipment I vitally need to keep my bulging disk from . . . um . . . bulging. It might be worth to simply buy that piece of equipment, no? Hmm . . .

The Price of Freedom

2007-07-04T09:14:00.000-06:00

By titling this entry 'the Price of Freedom' I don't mean to invoke weighty thoughts about liberty and death. Only to refer to the title of my previous post, 'Free at Last.'

My temporary job at M.L.U. ended at the end of May, leaving me 'free' throughout the month of June to pursue a Job. The kind that's permanent, salaried, and comes with benefits. More rare than one might suppose for those who are new to the profession. I fall into this popular category: looking for the job that I actually want and flattening my spending to near zero while I wait for the ink to dry on my Bar Exam results. Law firms don't hire people with wet ink. 'Two years of experience' seems to be the standard for strangers.

Grateful though, that my law clerk position has been upgraded to contract attorney. Still in discussion: how much work and for how much money.

In the meantime I am writing a little something about corporate veil-piercing. Good fun. Even get to include a little about reverse veil-piercing, a spicy and delightfully arcane little concept, and I love that.

Also very, very grateful for my beloved fiance', who continuously encourages, supports, lightens, entertains, and feeds me.

On July 4th I am celebrating my freedom with ironic zeal - still not fully employed but reveling in my freedom: hanging out with my man, going for long runs at the gym, reading "Harry Potter" just because I can, and playing W.O.W.