Year in Review

2009 was, as predicted, a big year for me. I'm married. I'm no longer a student. I'm a lawyer. I live in Chicago. I'm renting a car tomorrow, and not paying any special underage fee.

Of course, things never go exactly as you imagine they will, and 2009 is no exception. I didn't start my job in September, like I expected to. So while I'm a lawyer, I still have yet to actually, you know, practice law. This means, among other things, I continue to live more or less like a student, only with even more credit card debt. It also means I don't own a home. I am right now less financially stable than I have ever been.

Also in 2009, I lost two of my grandparents. I don't know what to say about that, except that Christmas is always harder when you've recently lost someone. I miss them both very much.

Also unexpected was the amount of travel I got to do. I saw parts of this country I wasn't sure I'd ever see, and I got a better tan than I've had since I was a little kid who basically lived at the local swim club. I hiked in some of the most beautiful places on earth and I ate some of the most delicious foods and I fell in love with my husband all over again.

It's also been a transformative year for those around me. My husband left his job in financial services, likely never to return again. My dad started a new career as a teacher, and has hit a few bumps in that road. My mom was finally diagnosed with anemia, and, with treatment, has become a real person again. My sister graduated from college, moved to the big city, got smacked around by the economy, and is in the process of moving home again.

All in all, it's been a really important year with the happiest happies and the saddest sads. I think I'll look back on it sort of wistfully some day, but for right now, it sort of just makes my stomach hurt to think about. I hope 2010 is nothing like it.

In keeping with the spirit of last year's new year post, I will immortalize some resolutions, most of which will look familiar.

1. I will value my health, meaning I will eat mindfully and exercise. I will consider this an investment in my health rather than a means to weight-loss.
2. I will work hard at my career, including being committed to pro bono work, but I will also be fully present at home when I am at home. No matter how many hours I feel I have to bill, I will bill them and then stop thinking about them.
3. I will do a better job of showing the people in my life how much I love them and how important they are to me.
4. I will not bring "throwaway" items into my house. I will stop buying cheap crap which I will just have to replace soon anyway and instead save up to buy something more worthwhile, substantial, and lasting.

5. I will take control of my finances. I will not, out of fear or disinterest, let my husband or fate make my decisions for me. I will be fiscally responsible, save for my future and pay down our debts as quickly as possible, but still have a little fun.

I'm not sure what will become of this blog in 2010. Kate Gets a Job is far less interesting to me than whatever it is we've been doing here for the last 7 months.

That was way harsh, Tai

So, as you either know about by now or absolutely won't care about once I tell you, Brittany Murphy died at the age of 32 this week. It's hard to say why I'm as upset about this as I am--celebrity deaths rarely affect me, and it's not as though I was a HUGE Brittany Murphy fan so that this just brings my world tumbling down.

Part of it is that she was in two of my most favorite movies of all time, and two that were pretty formative for me. The first of those, Clueless, was her breakout role and one of her best-known. She's fabulous in it.

The second is Drop Dead Gorgeous, where she plays Lisa Swenson, a misfit not totally unlike Tai, her character from Clueless. Sort of awkward, very sweet, always hilarious.

Both Clueless and Drop Dead Gorgeous were huge movies for me. They shaped my sense of humor, my sense of style, maybe even my sense of self the way that movies only can before you graduate from high school. And in both cases I related way more to the Brittany Murphy character than the pretty blonde protagonist (Alicia Silverstone and Kirsten Dunst, respectively). They're silly high school movies, but at the same time they're subversively funny and with great heart. One of them is almost always my go-to when I'm having a bad day and want to watch something fun.

As has been well documented across the internet, after those movies she got very blonde and very very thin and started playing more ingénue types. People speculated that she was doing a lot of drugs or developed anorexia. People have, of course, speculated that one or both of these things caused her death.

It just makes me sad that, whatever happened, the world lost such a great comic actress and such a part of my teenage life. It also breaks my heart and turns my stomach how the entertainment shows and magazines and blogs all assume it was drugs or disordered eating and, frankly, we don't know. We don't know her life or her husband or her medical history. Why can't we just remember fondly her bizarre, hilarious, snorting kind of giggle? Or at least keep our damn mouths shut until we actually KNOW something--anything?

Anyway, as Kevin Smith apparently tweeted, Brittany, I hope you're rolling with the homies somewhere nice. I'll miss you.

getting to know you, getting to know all about you

One of the best things, but also the most overwhelming thing, about the move to a new, large city is that there's so much to do. I've bought both new copies of Time Out since we've been here, and read a few guidebooks and whatnot (because that's the kind of nerd I am) but basically haven't done anything of real interest. It turns out getting to know a city just takes time. I try to remind myself that the first time I moved away from home, to a mid-size city, it took me nearly a year to really figure the city out. To get a favorite burger place. To know the best Thursday night happy hour. To know how long it ought to take you to get from point A to point B. To have a place to take parents in town. To have a place to take broke, arty friends in town. To understand where the hell the freeway loop crosses the freeway. And that city was about 1/5 the size of Chicago. Sigh.

Part of why I think it's taking me longer this time around is because a lot of what there is to do here is actually....go to this place and eat. Go to this other place and drink. And while, lord knows, those are two of my most favorite activities, they're also bad for my health and my wallet. We have thus far been really good about cooking delicious and more or less healthy meals at home, and so I haven't been out to a ton of good places yet. Maybe when I'm working and thus have the cashflow to go out and no time to cook?


I actually cooked this. I did not take this photo, though. (Though mine did look about as good.) Photo and recipe courtesy Pioneer Woman.

Another part of why it's taking me longer than it feels like it ought to is because it's cold. I mean, like I said before, it's not yet inhumanly cold-cold. Still, 30 degrees makes it unpleasant to just stroll around the neighborhood for a few hours, which I was able to do when I lived here for 3 months two summers ago. Somehow it feels like I knew the city a lot better then...where did all that knowledge go?

Ugh, in the middle of writing this, I got another call from an Unknown number, which I (who knows why) answered. I am 90% convinced whomever had this number before me was a drug dealer, and 100%convinced that, even if he wasn't, he was into some kind of shady business. I will be sooo glad when people finally get the message that BUDDY NO LONGER HAS THIS NUMBER. (Seriously, Buddy?? Does it get more stereotypical than that?)

in the spirit

I'm currently listening to some Christmas music (did you hear about the free! Holiday Sampler on iTunes? If not, now you have: go download it immediately.) and baking Christmas cookies, getting ready to wrap Christmas presents. I can't believe Christmas is next week. NEXT. WEEK. Where did 2009 go? So much happened and yet I still feel like it all just rushed past me like the streets rush past the window of the el. (See what I did there? CHICAGO REFERENCE!)

The hubs and I are doing the Christmas gauntlet yet again (7 days, 5 cities, 3 Christmases) despite swearing up and down last year was the last time. I don't know what to say about it except that, while I'm annoyed about driving all over God's creation, I'm also glad to have so many people worth going to see and who will be happy to have me. It's cases like this where I'm tempted to say "it is what it is" but when other people say that, I get irritated because, seriously, what does that even MEAN? In what way is that ever a valuable thing to say? So anyway, I will refrain from saying it myself.

It's been cold in Chicago, but not cold-cold, so I feel pretty lucky there. I'm just bracing myself for the onslaught of inhuman, unbelievable cold-cold. The city is still a bit overwhelming, but every time I start to feel like maybe we made a big mistake and I ought to just run back to mid-size cities for the rest of my life, something happens to make me really glad we're here.

I mean, really, what's not to love?

making a list

We're in!!! The hubs and I officially now live in the Windy City and have an amazing, mostly unpacked apartment. With cable! And internet! (Though, don't even get me started, that was an ordeal and a half. Why is it that no cable company is even close to decent? I used to think cell phone companies were the worst, but no, cable are far, far worse. I think it's because they all have these regional monopolies so they know, as pissed off as you get, it's them or the dish. AND THE DISH DOESN'T WORK WHEN IT RAINS. Your options are (1) deal with them or (2) no TV when it rains. Ugh, they both suck.)

Anyway, everyone is asking for my Christmas list, and I'm polishing the real list up, but I'm trying to be reasonable in what I ask for. If money were no object, though, here are a few silly things I'd want Santa to put under my tree...

Round trip airfare to the destination of my choice. Better yet, TWO tickets, so the hubs could come too. There are a zillion places I'd like to see, and right now I actually have time to do it, but being as we're currently unemployed, we're a bit cash-strapped.

Front-row seats to one of Lady Gaga's Chicago shows. Nosebleeds may or may not be on my "real" list...


Frye Billy boots in Vintage Grey. Aren't they lovely? Wouldn't they go with EVERYTHING? And last forever, even in the yucky Chicago winters?


A real cashmere sweater. Because it seems like the kind of thing a real lady in a cold climate has. And man are they soft.


A really nice rug. Our new apartment has lovely hardwood floors, but I need a rug for my little tootsies. In our last apartment, we bought a cheapie and it was....cheap. It did not make the move with us.

So, back to my real list wherein I ask for things like shampoo and picture frames because that is what my life has come to. I am basically 97 years old.

also thankful...

for the way my family says Thanksgiving, with the emphasis on the fist syllable: THANKsgiving.

thankful

My dog got hit by a car, bounced about 10 feet off the bumper, and has NO DISCERNIBLE INJURIES. No wonder the damn dog doesn't have any fear of anything: she's indestructible. I am thankful for her continued existence and for her joie de vivre.

I'm at my grandmother's house, lounging, cooking, and prepping for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I am so thankful for my family. This holiday will be a bit bittersweet, because we can't help but feel the absence of my granddaddy, but I also am thankful to have the family that is here--and to have had the time with him that I did.

I am thankful to have great friends in my life. I am thankful especially for my dear friends Kurt and Jamie who are getting married Friday after TEN YEARS together, my dear friends Nick and Phil who are letting me stay in their apartment while they're away, and my dear friend Liz without whom I never would have made it to being a real live lawyer, and who is about to be our new roommate.

I am thankful to have my health. It's something I take too much for granted most days. My friend EJ had a heart attack last week at the age of 26. He's doing fine, but that combined with seeing my grandfather just before his death reminds me that I ought to more appreciate every miraculous thing my body can do. Run! Jump! Cook! Type! See! Smell! And good god, eat! I mean, just the blood coursing through my veins and the breath going in and out is pretty spectacular. I am thankful for that.

I am thankful to still have a job waiting for me, making way more money than any reasonable 25 year old makes. A lot has changed at the firm in the last year, and a lot has changed in the economy at large, and I am grateful for what I still have.

Also, (gross out alert) I am so, so thankful for my amazing husband. He's my my partner, my comic relief, my touchstone to sanity, and my best friend. I love you, Thomas. I'm sorry we have to spend this Thanksgiving apart. (As a bonus, the hubs comes with a fabulous in-laws package, for which I am also very thankful.)

I am thankful for so much this holiday. How spectacular is it that we have an entire holiday devoted just to eating and gratitude?

Onward and Upward

First, I want to say thank you to those of you who reached out to me when you heard about my Granddaddy. It means a lot to have such caring friends, and my family and I really appreciate all your well-wishes. Chris, as per usual, has put my feelings in to words better than I ever could, so I'll just direct you to her post.

The hubs and I are moving December 1, and I can't wait to settle into a routine. To have all my clothes accessible to me. To wake up morning after morning and not have to drive somewhere. To cook! With my own pots and pans! To take my ridiculous dog for a walk in the brutal Chicago winter morning. To find a new gym, get a new library card, a new hairdresser. To clean a bathtub. To do all the boring, annoying, fun things that you have to do when you live somewhere.

As Amy said in a comment, this has been a year of really high highs and really low lows. It has been some of the best times of my life, and yet I can't tell you how ready I am for 2009 to be over.

Granddaddy Roy

This afternoon, my Granddaddy Roy died. He was a pretty amazing and hilarious guy. He believed he could fix anything, and cheaper. He'd give you directions and send you the absolute shortest distance possible--even if it meant the drive would take twice as long, just to save you half a mile. He golfed 3 or 4 times a week. He used to tell us scary stories and offer to sell us to our grandmother for a quarter (a real bargain, if you ask me). He was a WWII veteran and a product of the GI Bill. He made burgers I thought were about the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten. We was gruff and sometimes harsh, but he was a good man.

He started going blind 7 years ago due to a blood clot which cut off circulation to his eyes. Losing the ability to drive and get around easily was hard on him, I think, but he was bound and determined to keep every bit of his independence he could. Late last year, he fell and broke his pelvis outside the gym where he was doing his daily stationary biking and never fully recovered. This year, he started losing lucidity.

So, today, my grandfather died. I am so thankful to have known him, and to have had a real relationship with him. I am so thankful to have been able to say goodbye to him yesterday. I loved him very much.



This is him with his wife of 59 years, my Grandma Una. Weren't they a dashing couple? Please be thinking of her this week. I don't exactly know how she does it, but my grandmother is a force of nature and she will need every ounce of strength she can get.

my cup runneth over

The hubs and I returned to our hometown last night and I haven't gotten out of my sweatpants since. While I'm sad that one of the most fun periods of my life is over, I'm also glad to not be on the road for a bit. I am trying to organize my thoughts about the trip in a coherent way, but sometimes words just fail.

The biggest thing I got out of the trip is just how VAST everything is. It's a big country I live in, and there are lots of big things to see in it. I could post a photo of the mountains we saw or the canyons we hiked here, but it wouldn't do it. You'd look at the photo, and think it was lovely, sure, but it can't capture how staggeringly BIG everything is. It's hard to look at the Yosemite Valley or the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon or any one of the other amazing natural wonders we saw and not think about how tiny we are in the grand scheme of creation.

The second thing I must do is say a big fat THANK YOU to the dozens of people who encouraged us to take this trip back when it was still just a twinkle in our eyes and helped us make it a reality. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to our lovely friends and family who hosted us along the way: Nick & Phil, Ross & Jessica, Rebecca & Kevin, Matthew, Erica & Dane, Elizabeth Ann, Tyler, and Coty. Thanks also to Brad & Wi who helped us get cheap hotel rooms, and of course to my lovely in laws who watched our ridiculous mutt for all this time.

Again, I have no words to say exactly how grateful I am to have had this opportunity, to have the friends and family I do, to have the husband I do. I am an insanely lucky lady and believe me, I know it.

So, as you have probably noticed, I've quit blogging the day to day stuff since the hubs is largely taking care of all of that. Bless him. So I'm sure if you're interested in what we're doing all this time, you're following his blog too. If you just come for the hilarious tone of my writing, well bless your little heart you sad, sad person.

I turned 25 in Vancouver last week. Actually, by this time it's been over a week. Anyway, here I am in my 25th year and still feeling a bit like a lost puppy. Not having a home or permanent address or knowing how to answer people when they ask you "where are you visiting from?" will do that to a girl, I guess.

It was a good birthday, but a bit hard for me. I take birthdays very seriously. I love them. As I've told a lot of people, I love birthdays. I love the idea that there's one day of the year where YOU are the special person. People you love and that love you call YOU to share their hope that YOU especially have a great day. They give YOU gifts to ensure your day will be great. I love my own birthday and I love other people's. I love going out to dinner and I love cards and I love cake and I love candles and I love how people try to act like they don't care but really they do. I just love it. And it's not all about presents (though who doesn't love a perfect gift?).

This year was the first time I've ever been away from all my friends and family (except the hubs of course) on my birthday. And because I was in Canada, anyone who wanted to call me was calling internationally and my phone was roaming, so I didn't answer and just let it go to voicemail. While voicemails are great, it isn't quite the same.

Also, the hubs and I agreed, due to our current financial status, that we'd skip presents this year. Since we share finances and basically this whole road trip is one big present to ourselves it made sense at the time. And with our mailing address up in the air, it meant I didn't get presents from my parents or sister, either.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful or whiny. Though maybe I am? I had a great day with perfect weather eating delicious food in a beautiful city with the man I love. And I loved it. All I'm saying is next year, I'm staying home, having all my friends over and answering the phone when my grandma calls, you know?


The other big milestone that's happened recently is that I FOUND OUT I PASSED THE BAR. This means that I am one swearing in ceremony (November 5! Mark your calendar!) away from being what I think I've wanted to be for an abnormally long time: a real live lawyer.

The bar admissions people had told us that results would be out "the first two weeks of October." Sure enough, when I awoke on October 1 in San Francisco, people had already started posting their positive results. Of course, I went to check the bar website. Which had crashed.

The site had also crashed last year and the board's answer to this was to "release results gradually," which is to say they planned to send emails to test-takers throughout the day in alphabetical order.

This was the first moment since getting all the annoying paperwork done that I regretted changing my name. My marriage changed my last name from a very respectable beginning of the alphabet name to a sad, lonely end of the alphabet one. My husband claims it's the middle, but I swear, it's the end. And this meant I would have to wait until the end of the day (more or less) to find out my results, even in the best of cases.

Of course, the best case scenario did not come to pass. As you can imagine, with you know, telephones and that great system of tubes we call the internets, people with names not at the beginning of the alphabet heard that people had started to get results and went to check their own. Roughly 3,000 people checking in the course of a few hours crashed the site. They somehow had not anticipated that people would hear results were out or that, upon hearing it, they'd want their own results?

Hey, maybe next year, you guys could just set up the server to handle the traffic I guarantee you'll get? Just a thought.

So this meant that, when I woke up in San Francisco, I knew results were out, but couldn't access them. The hubs, our friend Liz (who had taken the same bar as I had and is similarly alphabetically disadvantaged), and I had planned to leave for Yosemite that morning, where internet access would be harder to come by, so we dawdled for a bit before deciding just to leave anyway.

This was going to be a long day. How, when you know results are out but don't know your own, are you supposed to think about ANYTHING else? We made half-assed attempts at conversation for a bit, but mostly just waited. We were getting texts from a friend of Liz's telling us that some people had just started to get emails with their results right in the email (novel concept, eh?).

We drove for a few hours before stopping to buy groceries...and check results. They weren't out.

We kept driving. Kept trying to talk or think about ANYTHING other than whether or not Liz and I would be lawyers by the end of the day.

We stoppped again. No email. Liz's friend (god bless her) suggested we try the cached version of the bar website. Success! We were able to log in! Success! We both passed!

Both Liz and I were too excited/relieved to do anything but read the "We are pleased to inform you..." line and basically freaked out in a Starbucks in the middle of nowhere. We had to go back a few days later to check again (on the un-cached site) so we could make sure it was for real and actually read the letter (which included, among other things, the caveat that if we didn't get around to being sworn in in the next 4 years, our passage would be revoked. Who ARE these people for whom they have to make such crazy rules?).

Anyway...this post goes firmly under the label My Life Doesn't Suck. It will be an interesting winter trying to adjust from this absurd vacation lifestyle to having to, you know, work. A lot. BECAUSE I'M A LAWYER.

jellystone, boo boo

So, again, the hubs has done a lot of the heavy lifting here and some about our sojourn into the West. So, I guess I'll just pick up where he left off.

So we had just been informed that our third choice campground was full, after having driven an hour and a half and braved our first bear jam to get there. We stopped at a ranger station to ask about our other options. Luckily there was another campground about 15 minutes away, which the ranger said she didn't think would fill up, so we hit the road again. The good news is both that she was right and that the campground was on Lewis Lake, which is very nice.

The bad news is that there were no showers. But no matter, we'd shower at the other campground in the morning.

Since Lewis Lake is in the very South of Yellowstone, and only about 20 miles from the Grand Tetons, we decided to head down there for a bit. The Tetons are pretty effing gorgeous.


However, since they were doing road construction this brief jaunt turned into quite the ordeal. Nonetheless, we ventured back into Yellowstone to see Old Faithful. This meant forgoing showers for the moment, though. But no matter, we could shower the following morning.

Here's something they don't tell you in the books: GEYSERS ARE SMELLY. It turns out geothermal activity comes from the ass crack of the earth. Nonetheless, it's still pretty cool.



We did a quick walk around the geyser basin, which has some different pools and geysers.



Aaaand as we were getting ready to leave, Plume Geyser decided to go off right as we were walking by. Sweet. I thought this was a sign, and we headed back to home sweet home for the evening.

so much to say, so little time

The hubs did an admirable job summing up days two and three over at his blog, so I'll refrain.

On day 3, we began the camping leg of our trip, and as such were without access to electricity, much less wireless. Radio silence ensued.

I attempt to sum up the amazing things we've seen and done in the last 5 days sometime soon I hope, but for now, here it is by the numbers.

As of this morning...

States visited: 10
Days on the road: 8
PB&Js eaten: 6?
National Parks visited: 3
Number of bears seen within 12 feet of our car: 2
Bear jams*: 2
Audiobooks completed: 1.9
Showers taken, per person: 1

*bear jam (noun) a traffic jam caused by national park visitors spotting a bear and stopping to gawk; differentiate- bear jamboree

road trippin'

So I'll post about Aruba (or a-boob-a, to those in the know) and the week after sometime soon, promise.

But the road trip begins today and I thought I should blog about it in real time, as it were.

We arrived in Chicago this afternoon after a long, boring drive through Indiana. The Southern half of Indiana has some really lovely spots, but man, that Northern half is...mind-numbing. We did, however, pass a huge field of windmills.



But so we made it through to Chicago, one of my favorite cities in the world, and had dinner with our dear friends Phil & Nick who are letting us crash at their place, had a delicious dinner around the corner, and are now watching the VMAs. Let me say this about the VMAs: Lady Gaga = WIN.

Phil and their dog Roxy:


Nick and the hubs showing just HOW MUCH FUN we're having:


Tomorrow: Madison and Minneapolis.

wanna feel a warm breeze, sleep under a palm tree

This is a strange season for me. It's the first back-to-school season in 23 years (yikes!) that I haven't been going back to school. So all the blogs I read are about the new year and all my friends are buying books and new school supplies (oh, my love of new school supplies is boundless) and I'm...sunning myself in Aruba.

Let me clarify: I am not complaining. Only a complete fool would be complaining about this. In fact, I am at the very least relieved not to be going back. Most of the time, I'm ECSTATIC about it. But it is strange.

Actually, I keep having moments on this vacation where I feel like I need to pinch myself. HOW, I ask you, HOW did I get so lucky?? The hubs and I are struggling with at times feeling like spoiled brats and at times feeling like we deserve what we have--at least as much as anyone deserves what they have. I know that I've worked hard through my schooling and that having time to chill out is a good thing. I also know that having free lodging at two really nice places and the luxury of the time to use that gift is...unusual. I know that a LOT of people work a lot harder than I ever have, and in worse circumstances, and without the kind of support and love I have every day. So it's hard to reconcile that with, you know, sunning myself in Aruba. But I am valiantly attempting, in the immortal words of Mr. Tim Gunn, to Make It Work.

just another day in paradise

Raul, our maid in Cancun (yes, we had a maid. And a personal concierge. We live large, what can I say?) left us these towel swans in love.



I made the hubs pose with them...if you look closely, you can see that they are holding a (Kleenex) rose in their mouths. Raul is a stickler for detail.


From our day trip to Chichen Itza. This is the Castle of Kukulkan, the main structure there. Before we got there, I thought this was it, but it turns out there's a whole city of ruins there.


Me trying to master the starlet pose in front of one of the other structure. There were a ton of these columns, which apparently once held a stone roof.


aaaaah.

me and the hubs at the airport. my wallet still in the car, smile still on my face.


me after about 4 hours of our first Miami layover. boredom had set in.


the passport that took so much to get...note how lovely that passport photo is. the AAA woman said I wasn't allowed to smile, plus my face is nice and puffy after a day of sporadic crying. also, I hadn't showered. niiiice. I for some reason was unable to take a clear photo of it, but at least this way I didn't have to photoshop out my last name, I guess.


but this makes it all worth it: the view from our Cancun balcony.


more photos to come...

how are you feeling?

Things that actually happened in the last four days:

-While typing this, the very attractive young couple sitting behind me in the lobby (where the internet works) is playing verrrrrry bad R&B through their laptop speakers. Why do they think this is okay?

-I got a head cold. In the Caribbean. In August. Seriously.

-I discovered the wonder that is Easy Mac. How did I miss this in college?

-We went to see Chichen Itza. It was pretty spectacular, and as soon as I can post photos, I will.

-I got a bit tan!

But best of all...

-The Aquarobics instructor (a late-30sish Mexican man with an amazing accent) asked his class "how are you feeling?" When they responded with a half-hearted chorus of "okay/good" he chastised them. "NO! When I ask 'how are you feeling?' the answer is always 'SEXYSEXY!'" I mean, really. Now the hubs and I can't stop asking each other how we're doing, and trying to trick one another into saying something other than "SEXYSEXY" since that is obviously the right answer. Next time someone at work asks how you are, you know what to say.


P.S. the R&B couple left and were replaced by 4 people in their late 50s/early 60s, one of whom said that I "look young and intelligent" before asking me how to Skype. I had to tell them I'd never done it before, and they said they were going to try it. God, I really am so 2000 and late. These are the risks of being a late adopted of technology. You get passed up by people who are grandparents already. (I just heard them talking about their grandkids.)

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

(I tried to insert photos here, but the resort interwebs is too slow for that...when we get back to American soil, I'll edit this post to include photos.)

I remarked to my husband last week that we had just had about the best 5 day stretch in our hometown I’d had in a looong time, possibly ever. We had nothing we had to do. No holiday dinner marathons. No wedding planning appointments. No studying. Nothing. We visiting in a pretty leisurely fashion with our families (including my sister, who’s moving out of town; my Danda, who’s been “sprung” from the nursing home rehab place this week; both sets of parents; my uncle, who lives in town and yet I rarely see; and my cousin (his son), who went to college this week). Anyway, it was awesome. We went to the pool (working on those base tans, you know). We ate all our hometown favorite foods. We went to a baseball game—bought $5 tickets and watched first 7 or so innings in $40 seats and the last few (there were extras) in what I’m guessing were $100+ seats. I relaxed. Finally.

Then I started to pack for our tropical adventures. My lovely husband has already chronicled a bit of the debacle that was my passport situation, so I won’t relive it. I’m happy to report that I did indeed receive a valid US passport and got fairly little guff about the situation from our lovely US State Dept employees, despite needing a passport less than 24 hours before leaving the country for my own danged honeymoon. Special shout-outs in that situation to my aforementioned lovely husband for keeping me sane, MMC for putting me up and helping me navigate Detroit, the Detroit Westin for having such a totally comfortable lobby and not glancing twice at me though I hung out there for the better part of the day, and J.K. Rowling for writing a series of books I can read for hours at a time without totally zoning out or wishing I was dead (though I have often found myself this week thinking “if only I could do a summoning charm and summon my passport!” or “if only I could go back in time and see where past Kate put that passport!” or “if only I could apparate and be in Detroit already!”).

The passport office, by the way, is totally ridiculous. It’s like a very high-security DMV. You can’t call and you can’t drop in, but they have a waiting room set up for about 100 people and the whole time I was there, literally not a single person waiting. Also, they have about 13 windows (like bank-teller windows) and about four people working behind them, all but one seemingly playing solitaire.

As a complete aside, on the 4 hour drive to the Detroit area, I passed a semi which had written in the dirt on the back (you know, like some people will write “WASH ME” in the dirt) “I HONK 4 HOOTERS.” I thought it was pretty absurd, but you know…if you drive long enough, you’ll see some absurd stuff. But then, the driver actually honked at me! I can assure you I did not flash him. In fact, I was wearing a totally gross (crew neck) t-shirt and hunched over like I was, my gut sticks out more than my “hooters.” I had no idea it was possible to be sexually harassed while minding my own business, watching the road from my own car, but there you have it. It’s everywhere.

Anyway, the story of my being a total idiot most unfortunately does not end with the case of the missing passport. Let me back up and say I own two pairs of shorts that are decent to wear in public. I wear said shorts pretty frequently, and probably as a result, the hems had fallen out of them. So I dropped them off at the dry cleaners to be fixed and was supposed to pick them up Friday. Friday, of course, I was getting a passport, so you’ll understand when I say I didn’t get to it. So Saturday morning, my mom drives us to the airport and we stop on the way to pick them up. I pay for them—not too pricey. I’m very pleased with the work; they did a great job. I somehow manage to shove the shorts into my suitcase. We’re off to Cancun!

It’s not until we’re checking in I realize…I’ve shoved the shorts into my suitcase AND NOT MY WALLET. I took the wallet out to pay the dry cleaners and left it in my mom’s car. Yes, seriously. And my mom’s not answering her cell phone.

I mean, it’s not the end of the world. After the passport debacle, the hubs was put in sole custody of my shiny new passport, and he’s got a credit card and whatnot, so it really would have been fine. It’s just…seriously? Am I losing my mind? I really don’t feel quite like myself. I am a pretty together lady, generally. So why all of this? My husband and my mom blame the bar exam, and maybe that’s part of it, but part of me feels like I’ve been suuuper stressed out a lot over the last 6 or so months, and now I’m…not. Or at least shouldn’t be. Shouldn’t that free up lots of brain space to do things like, I don’t know, REMEMBER TO KEEP YOUR FUCKING HEAD ATTACHED TO YOUR STUPID NECK?!

In the end, we checked the bags and then waited to go through security. My mom was able to go all the way home, get the message that the wallet was left behind, find the wallet, and get back to the airport, all with lots of time left over for us to get to our flight.

All of these situations over the last couple of months (I did tell you all the bar exam seat voucher story, right? If not, I will.) have impressed upon me two equally important lessons: (1) I am never, ever to be bitchy to my mother or my sister for being such complete flakes. It’s genetic, and the second I have a snide thought about my mom forgetting her bag or my sister leaving her purse on the Metro, IT WILL KICK MY ASS. They are not kidding when they say karma’s a bitch. (2) I am seriously the luckiest person you have ever met in your danged life. I was able to sit for the bar exam (and arrived on time, no less). I got a passport and am currently headed to Mexico. I bought myself breakfast at the airport, using the credit card I took from my wallet. Also, my husband hasn’t left me yet.

I guess if you have to be stupid, lucky and stupid’s a pretty good combo.

the next chapter

Thank you to all of you who sent condolences on the death of my grandmother. Honey was a brilliant and, frankly, at times difficult woman. At her core, though, I think she was really a woman who just wanted people to love her and wasn't ever quite sure how to make it happen. In that process, I think she sometimes missed the fact that we were all going to love her anyway. She also was a woman, much like myself, who KNOWS her sweets. Anywhere I go, I know where all the ice cream places in a 5 mile radius are--and that's just straight genetics. Her favorite was a butterfinger blizzard, and if you can, you should go get one today: it'sMiracle Treat Day--buy a blizzard and it benefits children's hospitals. A miracle. I think it's a sign. Anyway, I miss her already.

My Danda, her husband of 55 years, has been ill as I mentioned. He has not, however, lost his sense of humor. I asked him how he was? "I was all right, but I got over it." When a neighbor came to express her condolences (a totally adorable old woman) after she left? "What a twit. You'd be playing chess with the King of Poland and she'd bring a Parcheesi set." And of course, of the nursing home rehab where he's currently staying? "I ain't gonna be there long...nice people, but too damn many rules." Please continue to keep him in your thoughts, so that he gets stronger and can (safely) go home soon.

Also, a special shout-out to my Aunt Denise and Uncle Tom who, by virtue of both their proximity and borderline sainthood have shouldered waaayyy more than their fair share of the work involved in caring for our aging family. I honestly don't know what we would do without them, but I'm glad I won't have to find out.

Honey insisted that we have a wake, and as far as I know, her only request was that there be only top-shelf liquor. We honored her request (of course) and told stories and laughed and cried. Mourning is always made a little easier with a pretty spectacular fam and a couple vodka lemonades.

But anyway, the hubs and I are back home and currently packing to move out of our place here. And by "packing," I mean, watching the professional movers pack. This is our first professional move, since the firm is paying for it, and let me tell you: it's way better than doing it yourself. For example, I am sitting here blogging while a nice young man with full sleeves (definition link included for you, Dad) puts all our (sweet new wedding gift) dishes into boxes.

So tomorrow we're loading up our car with everything (hopefully) we're going to need for the next couple months and hitting the road tomorrow. First stop: our hometown.

Honey

This is my grandmother, Mary Jane, known better to us grandkids as Honey. She died last night of a stroke.

She was a voracious reader, and when I was a kid and she was in better health, the best part of every visit was our trip to Joseph Beth. She'd buy us each a book and we'd have lunch in the cafe. It was magical.

We love you, Honey.

excellent, totally

Danda and CWMM both are recovering as well or better than expected. So thank you. And YAAAAAAAAY!!!

So as I've alluded to, the hubs and I are experiencing a period now of "pre-retirement." My job has been deferred, meaning while I expected to start next month, I won't actually be starting until January. The hubs is leaving his job where we currently live (Our lease here is up next week, and we want to get the hell out of dodge ASAP. Never know when more waterballooners might strike.) and so we're...doing a lot of nothing.

This means this is the perfect time for our deferred honeymoon.

First up, as a result of two VERY generous wedding gifts: a week each in Cancun and Aruba. Yes, seriously. My life doesn't suck.

Then two weeks in our hometown followed by a marathon roadtrip--6 weeks staying with friends, camping, hiking, sight-seeing, book-reading, and mostly driving across this amazing country of ours. Again I say: our lives don't suck. In any case, I will slowly unveil the itinerary of the trip and plan to post as much as possible (including LOTS of photos) from the road.

So anyway, get psyched. Lord knows I am.

say a little prayer

If you're the praying kind. If, like me, you're a godless heathen, keep a couple people in your thoughts, would ya? CWMM and my danda (grandpa for those of you not in the loop). All my love to them both for speedy recoveries.

What you really need on a day like this is a good jar.

lady of leisure

So the good news is that, with any luck at all, this is the last post I make with the tag "bar study." The bad news is that I spend the next 2-3 months waaaaiiiiting for results. And any of you who knows me knows I am really not good at waiting for things.

But, in any case, this means that for the next 5 months or so, I am a lady of leisure, which is pretty fucking sweet. The bad news about this is that being a lady of leisure is a lot less fun if you have no money. Which I don't. Anyway, the hubs and I are doing some traveling and I plan to read for pleasure and cook lots of complicated things and finally hem those pants that have been sitting around and have a beer in the middle of the afternoon if I damn well please and sleep sleep sleep.

This is the first time I've had more than a couple weeks off since I was 14, I'm pretty sure. So I intend to live. it. up.

analytics

I finally figured out how to and did install Google Analytics on this website. The results are probably slightly skewed by the fact that (1) I haven't been posting because of the bar exam and (2) none of my friends have likely been reading because of the bar exam, but nonetheless, there are people out there. People who read this. Who visit this site, presumably to see if I've updated. People who then "bounce" when they see that I haven't.

(I could never pull off saying bounce in real life, like "this place is lame, let's bounce" but it's the real word that Google uses to explain people who don't click through to other areas of the site, but rather read the first page and leave. Who clicks through to other areas of a blog on a regular basis is beyond me, but Google seems to think I ought to be worried that y'all are all bouncing. I'm not.)

Anyway, I've been obsessively checking the analytics (of course) since I installed them, and it has spurred me to post. So thank Google, all of you who've been waiting for this.

I realized something last night, as I was sitting here doing flashcards (again), unshowered (still) and alone. It occurred to me that this is the worst month I've had since December 2006. That September, I had started law school, and it did not go well. I had gone in thinking this is exactly where I belonged and came out not sure I was fit to belong anywhere. I went in knowing I wanted to be a lawyer and came out not sure I wanted to be anything. I went in thinking I was smart and came out sure I was the dumbest person the school had ever admitted. In short, it sucked.

But September was far from the worst of it. The worst came only after Thanksgiving. See, pre-Thanksgiving, I had this fantasy that I was going to quit school and do something else...anything else. I was going to work retail or go get my masters in philosophy or join the Peace Corps. It didn't matter. I could leave. I could get away from that terrible place and its psychological abuse and its terrible books you couldn't possibly read and rampant, permeating douchebaggery. I was going to leave. But after Thanksgiving, the jig was up. I wasn't going anywhere. I'd already spent well over $15,000 on that psychological abuse. How was I going to pay that off with a retail job? But worse was the fact that after Thanksgiving, I had to start studying for finals.

This is not to say I hadn't studied pre-Thanksgiving. Well, actually, it is. Law school, I imagine, is a unique beast. There is, for me at least, a sizeable amount of work that goes into "being prepared" for class. This, for me again, generally entailed reading a lot of cases and then distilling them into notes for myself. That takes time. In my first semester, it was generally taking me between 5 and 7 hours a day, in addition to the time I spent in class. (It wasn't until much later I got any faster.) So anyway, after Thanksgiving I had to put in those 5 to 7 hours PLUS an additional 4 or so "actually studying."

And I was so fucking lonely. I had made some friends that first semester, of course, but it's hard to be a total nutjob with people you just met two months earlier. Particularly when those people think, sure, law school sucks, but it's not THAT bad. They studied this much in undergrad. They worked this much after college. They saved the children of Africa. Whatever the fuck they did, it was somehow better preparation for this than whatever the fuck I had done. I couldn't even remember what I had done. Who I had been. What life had been like before law school. I imagined it was pretty rad, but I didn't trust my memory. I tried to explain how awful it was to my family and to my boyfriend, and they assured me that I was very smart and it would all be fine. I felt like they were a million miles away.

Anyway, the feeling I had those first few weeks of December 2006 is the feeling I've had the last few weeks of July 2009. I feel like no matter how many hours I'm putting in, everyone else is putting in a few more. I feel like no matter how many more hours I put in, I couldn't possibly learn all this stuff. I couldn't possibly fit three more facts in my brain, I couldn't possibly understand one more doctrine, but everyone else is, so I had better. I feel like there's a pretty good chance I made a horrible mistake going to law school and now I have to just live with it.

Anyway, this is all by way of saying I should be studying right now, but somehow seeing the numbers--the fact that there are real people out there who check this sad little page and then sadly bounce away--made me feel like I owed it to you to say something. And right now, all I have to say is, to quote Marshall from HIMYM: Being a lawyer had better be AWESOME.

9 days to freedom

I promise to return to semi-regular posting soonish. Really.

something in the way we move?

There must be something about the hubs and me, but we seem to get yelled at by the d-bags of this town more than is anywhere close to reasonable. Yesterday, I got a water balloon thrown at me. Seriously. We were out taking the dog for a nice little walk along Main Street, and someone threw a water balloon at us. It hit my leg (failed to pop, luckily) and rolled off. WHO DOES THAT?

Also, torts made me cry today.

on MJ

So I had composed this whole long post about how confused I am about the reaction to Michael Jackson's death--and how upset people are, and how no one is talking about the fact that he may or may not have molested a bunch of kids (and, at the very least had an unsettling relationship with many of them) and that, in his later years, he became a total weirdo with the surgery and the KID NAMED BLANKET and whatnot.

But then fucking JOHN MAYER of all people goes and says it better and less hurtfully than I could have.

Michael Jackson proves, in a really sort of perverse way, that maybe we're not as offended by your behavior as we are entranced by your music. And think about that. Think about what level of quality you must have to attain to have somebody say, "I know that you're accused of having molested children, but I can't hate you for that as much as I love you for your music." I'm not saying that's right or wrong. But I'm saying that its fascinating. That somebody could be that great. That somebody could have that much of a marriage with your emotions just through music.

Sigh. It really is fascinating.

d-day

Among those studying for the bar in the summertime, the first week of July (July 1 or July 4 or the July 4 weekend, depending on whom you ask) is The End. Before July 1, it's summertime. You go to class, maybe you study some, but mostly, you goof around. After July 1, the panic sets in. People start buckling down. According to BAR/BRI (though their trustworthiness is suspect at best), people spend the last two weeks before the bar studying 10-12 hours per day. Sigh.

Studying for the bar feels very much like running on a treadmill. I keep doing things, but I seem to be getting nowhere. I hate it (oh god, do I hate it), but I can't stop or I will hurt myself. Sometimes I slow down for a second, thinking I'll be able to catch my breath and instead, it means I just have to pick up the pace the next second to not fall off.

I should just keep reminding myself that somewhere upwards of 3/4 of people pass this thing, and surely I can be in the top 75%. Surely. What I need is a nap, a beer, and a steely resolve.

reevaluation

So this article (and the comments that follow it--really worth the read if you're interested and have time) sparked a discussion with a friend, and a lot of thinking on my part. I have been posting a bit about my eating/working out habits and frankly, though light-heartedly, beating myself up about them.

Here's the thing: I have a very strange relationship with my weight, as I'm guessing every American woman (and a lot of men) does, if she doesn't have a downright bad one. As a result, I have a tense relationship with food. I love it. I love it in large quantities. But I feel bad about loving it, and I feel bad about eating it. Particularly in large quantities. There's something very frustrating and heartbreaking about the idea that both of those things are simultaneously true and that it's so, so common AND that the entire culture feeds it. (See, e.g., the phrase "sinfully delicious.") And I want more than anything to STOP feeling bad about it. I want more than anything to stop and think, nah, I'd really rather have a nice salad because I WANT A FUCKING SALAD and not because I think I can't have the burger that I really want. OR to order the burger and not being thinking about how I should have really ordered that salad instead because I'm a big greasy lardass. (Well, I am greasy, because I desperately need a shower, but that's another post.) And I want people to shut the fuck up about how "unhealthy" it is to be fat. And because, of course, Kate Harding says it best, I'll just link.

Anyway, this is a rambling, likely incoherent missive and basically what I want to say is this: I am sorry if my self-talk has made you think negatively about yourselves. I know it has made me feel negatively about me, and thus I am going to try to stop it. I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I really am going to try.

back off the wagon

But really, you knew when I said "ish"that my heart wasn't in it, right? I have always been jealous of those who (1) can't eat when they're stressed, or (2) find working out relieves stress. I am not that person. Working out is good for me. I know this. And I even like how I feel when I work out regularly. But you know, I don't particularly enjoy it and working out is...work. It takes time and lots of effort. And I know intellectually it's worth it, but often it's hard to convince myself of that in the moment.

Anyway, this is my confession: I have eaten about 21323 pints of ice cream (wedding gift ice cream maker = love) and worked out once in the last two weeks. Sigh.

My Dad Is Better Than Your Dad

My dad...

never met a board game he didn't like.
makes the best popcorn.
is the best with a good puzzle or riddle or trick.
taught me the glory of Skyline Chili.
gave the best toast anyone had ever heard.
is a pro napper.
once made a bunch of Jacob's Ladders at a time in my life when I thought that was THE CRAZIEST THING EVER (though sadly, sans sweet Australian accent).
reads voraciously and fast and made me love reading via Fox in Socks.
is really proud of me, no matter what...

but most of all, he could kick your dad's sorry ass at flip cup.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day!

reasons I hate the state where I live nos. 45682 and 45683

I went to get a new driver's license this week, with my new married name. I walk into the state DMV and wait patiently in line to get a number so that I can wait to be called up to the desk to actually do the transaction. I get up there, they figure it all out, charge me $25, take my picture and....

they'll mail me my new ID in 7-10 days.

WTF? I have never been to a DMV where they didn't just print out the ID right there. AND it's not as though these IDs are fancy or anything--they're laminated print-outs. Prime fakers material. My old ID had a hologram on it and they still were able to print it on the spot!

To make matters more annoying, they took my old hologrammed ID and STAPLED IT to the print out showing that I had a new ID coming and CUT THE CORNER OFF OF IT. It's the most ridiculous, backwater bullshit I have ever seen. I have to fly today...thank god I have my passport.

Speaking of my passport, did you know that when you change your name you have to pay the passport fee all over again? And since the hubs and I are traveling in August--less than 10 weeks--I'll have to pay the additional $60 to have it expedited! Ugh! If I knew that getting my name changed was such a pain in the ass, I wouldn't have done it. Seriously.

Okay, but on to reason 45,683: I'm being audited. Keep in mind that, before this year, the state had never heard of me. I had never worked here, never had a driver's license here, never voted here...nothing. (And that's on purpose.) Anyway, so even though I didn't work here last year either, I had to file taxes here as my state of residence. I sent them $1,800 they were not expecting. $1,800 from a person they've never heard of. What do they do? MAKE SURE SHE'S LEGIT. Definitely going to need to double-check, make sure she doesn't owe us like $1,950 or something. Assholes.

Anyway, two more months here and then I'm FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST, and I'll get to experience yet another state's DMV quirks. Awesome.

"hey awkward couple!"

-Actually yelled at the hubs and me from a car window. When the hubs tried to respond like "yes? you called?" the drunken douchebag yelling at us apparently thought he was trying to fight him and started yelling "what are you going to do? think about it" before they drove off.

But we laughed and laughed before heading to our favorite bar: the back porch. Cheap beers, warm weather, the dog playing in the yard...it doesn't get much better than that.

back on the wagon-ish

So, in preparation for the wedding, and because it was the good-kid thing to do, I started working out. Like a lot. As in, most weeks about five times a week. (That may not be a lot for everyone, but it was a lot for me.) I ate reasonably well. And I lost 10 pounds between Thanksgiving and graduation. Not too shabby, especially considering that I put on a bit of muscle.

And then May hit, and I just stopped. I ate like shit, and I didn't work out basically at all. It was kind of awesome. And then I gained 5 pounds.

So anyway, in the last week, I've made my less-than-triumphant return to the gym. I knew going in that I would have lost a fair amount of strength and stamina. And I had. It's disappointing because I know how much work it was in the first place, but I guess it's also good to know that I am able to get back there.

So the point of this post is: I am back. I am working out 5 days a week again. Not because I need to fit into some dress, and not because I need to look good on a beach in August (though that wouldn't suck either), but because I like being strong and fit.

Now, if only I didn't like beer and fried things so damn much.

unsolicited uterus update: empty

Well, hilariously, I had my very first pregnancy scare two weeks after I got married. (Wait, Dad, that's not hilarious--that's the first possible time it could have happened. Fuck it, you might want to stop reading now.) Anyway, yes, the first time I convinced myself that I was preggers, it was the first time it wouldn't have given my grandmothers heart attacks. It would, however, have given me one.

Here's a tip, friends: when they say the pill is 99% effective, that only is true if you are absolutely psycho religious about taking it at exactly the same time every day. (The actual overall effectiveness rate is somewhere around 90%. HOW FRENCHING SCARY IS THAT?!) And for the most part, I'm good about that, but with the wedding and traveling and whatnot, this month...not so much.

Anyway, normally, I wouldn't have thought much about it. And then I felt really nauseous and puked for no apparent reason last week. And I didn't think much of it. I mean, I thought it was weird, because I hadn't eaten anything bad and other than the nausea I didn't really feel that bad, but you know...I'm kind of a puker. (Though almost never without the influence of alcohol.) Anyway, I felt better pretty quickly afterward, and so I sort of forgot about it. I lived my life--with caffeine and alcohol (dear lord, lots of alcohol last Friday night) and though I didn't actually eat sushi, I totally would have.

Until, that is, my boobs got so unbelievably tender I would have thought I was 15 again. When I was 15 I had the worst PMS any human could possibly have. I got migraine headaches. I had crazy mood swings (well, crazier than regular 15 year old ones). And, of course, the boob soreness. At times I even avoided staircases for fear of jostling the ladies. When I was 16, I went on the pill, and like magic: I had a period like a regular person. Sometimes I even forgot it was coming!

Anyway, cut to Saturday night when I'm getting ready for bed and I have that familiar feeling: crazy-sore, swollen boobs. Boobs so sore I feel like even the weight of my t-shirt was crushing them. I commented to the hubs that it was weird, I hadn't felt like that since before BC...

And then it occurred to me. Holy shit. I'm pregnant.

And I felt...annoyed. I don't want to be pregnant right now. I don't want to be pregnant any time soon. I don't think I'm going to have health insurance soon (not health insurance that covers anything other than getting hit by an in-network bus, anyway). I like to drink. I like to stay out late with my friends. I like to have lots of friends who are about my age and don't have kids. I already am the freakish married one, now I'm going to be on the fast track to suburbia? Ugh. Speaking of the drinking, did I do what I did to myself last Friday night to myself AND a fetus? At what point do you worry about fetal alcohol syndrome? This has to happen with a lot of unplanned pregnancies, right? I'm not the freak terrible person who made her baby retarded because she HAD to have another Miller Lite, right? Oh, AND I'm not even starting work for 9 months, how can I afford this? Wait, I have to start work in 9 months, what am I supposed to just pop it out and get to work 3 days later, Sarah Palin style? I don't want a baby! This is so unfair! (Or totally fair, given the odds that it would happen.) But whatever, whyyyyy meee? It would be really weird to place a kid for adoption in my scenario, right? I mean, I have a stable home and relationship. Not to mention the fact that I'd be as big as a whale at Thanksgiving/Christmas and so the awkward questions from family who'd love to have another baby around would be so awful.

And abortion? I don't know--I mean, I'm not sure fetuses are people, but I'm also not sure they're not...so while I am 100% not judgy about others' choices (I actually think it's a sex equality issue: if we have all these potential decision makers--courts, state legislatures, etc.--why wouldn't we put the choice in the hands of the one person who will have to bear the most cost, whether financial, physical, or emotional? Because she's a woman? And the state's going to say she has to incubate this potential person at the expense of honoring her choices as a person? WTF? Anyway, this is a way-too-long aside y'all owe to Kitty MacKinnon.), I'm not 100% sure I could abort this fetus.

I'm a little surprised by how negative my own reaction was, honestly. The hubs and I have discussed having kids someday (probably in the 5-10 years from now range) and you know, we're married. We're a family. So this wasn't the plan...lots of things happen you don't plan for. But it was what it was, I guess.

So the hubs bought a test. (Keep in mind at this point I'm not yet late.) Negative. But only 83 percent effective at that point. Okay, well, I guess I can stop 83 percent of my worrying then.

And then I waited. Two solid days of only worrying I might be 17 percent pregnant. I expected my period last night. No dice. This morning, nothing. Noon, nothing. I went to have a beer thinking, well, I don't know for sure yet...this might be the last beer I get to have for a while. At the bar, it comes! Sweet relief! Another beer! Thank the lord: Kate Gets Her Period and we don't have to start Kate Gets Knocked Up.

lazy sunday

This blog might be more aptly titled "Kate Does Not Have Life" or "Kate Gets a Dent in Her Couch, Made By Her Enormous Ass." For instance, did I really just spend the last hour reading Julia Alison's blog? She's not even for real famous--she's internet famous!

Bar study is making me crazy already. I was so zen about it for all of a week, but I just did yet another practice set of questions (on torts, the easiest subject in law school for most people) and realized I have sort of a general idea of how stuff happens, but as it turns out, a certain special Board of Bar Examiners thinks I need to know more than that. I made flashcards today. To be fair, I love making flashcards (there's something so satisfying about them), so maybe that's not reasonable to blame on bar study, but still. I shouldn't be in flashcard-making, Julia Alison blog-reading levels of freak out for another month or so.

"so, which crocodile dundee movie do you want to watch today?"

I feel like people are constantly saying that they love their friends, and they have the best friends in the world, and going on and on about how great their friends are. But I actually mean it. I guess the deal is that if you don't really like your friends, you should get new friends. And I don't need new friends.

The hubs and I had a BBQ* this evening and a bunch of our friends came by. In retrospect, I should have taken photos, but I'm one of those people who bought a new camera thinking it would make me take photos and it hasn't.

*I had a coworker two summers ago who used to actually say out loud B-B-Q rather than barbecue. It drove me absolutely fucking batty. Who does that? For what possible reason would you do that? BBQ actually comes up much more often than you'd think with a summer coworker, too, because she often had BBQs or went to BBQs and then would order BBQ chicken salad or BBQ chicken sandwich and then complain that there was not enough BBQ flavor and ask the waitress for a side of BBQ sauce AND OH MY DEAR LORD WOMAN, THERE IS NO ADVANTAGE TO NOT JUST SAYING THE FRENCHING WORD. IT IS NOT FASTER OR CUTER OR BETTER TO SAY THE LETTERS RATHER THAN THE FULL SYLLABLES. Though now it does bring my friends and I a little joy to say it in her honor, so I guess it's not all bad.

Anyway, I need to get back to online shopping for a GPS system while laying in bed, watching SNL with the hubs. Because I might as well be 97 years old.

I am lame

I have watched the vid I posted last time about a dozen times since last Thursday. Is baby beagle freak out the new ninja cat?

on it goes

So the hubs and I got married all of 12 days ago. I posted already that the wedding was totally awesome (it was) but being married is also pretty sweet. So far, I've noticed that it's a lot like being engaged and living together, but with more presents.

The bad news about this week is twofold. First, bar classes have started in earnest, which means I have to spend about 8 hours a day everyday for the next two months filling my head with all of the actually useful stuff law school didn't teach me. It's not so much that any one part of it is hard as much as it just a shitton of material. Second, my ridiculous dog is sick. My dog is a lot like this most of the time: psycho, and you have never seen a dog so food-motivated. But since we got back from our memorial day camping trip, she's been reluctant to eat and mostly a sleepy puppy. I chalked it up to being tired from running around the woods with a bunch of other dogs for a day or two, but this is not good. The hubs is taking her to the vet tomorrow.

In better news, the hubs also started a blog!! We are so 3000 and 8 right now.

Placeholding

This is where I intend to keep blogging after "Kate Gets Married" is no longer apt. Stay tuned.