home alone

Yesterday I walked a mile and a half (each way!) and paid $5 for two cupcakes and a glass of milk from this adorable establishment, Sweet Mandy B's. It has, I can say with total confidence, the most delicious cupcakes in the world. Actually, the cupcakes are good, but it's the frosting that haunts my dreams. I got one carrot cake and one red velvet--which is to say, double the cream cheese frosting, please. I sat on the bench out front and ate the carrot cake one and drank the milk and brought the red velvet back for after dinner. It. Was. Glorious.

But also, this post is about how pathetic I am when left to my own devices. The hubs skipped town to go run some absurd distance in some other city, and I stayed home alone. I watched disgusting amounts of HGTV and subsist on cupcakes and goldfish. I'm pretty damn lucky to have him around most of the time to be sure I don't die wearing my ugly sweatpants, surrounded by what appear to be the remnants of a first grader's birthday party.

dripping with alchemy

A woman I worked with when I was a summer associate had been out on maternity leave when I started, and just returned. I hadn't seen her in nearly 2 years now, and so the first thing she wanted to talk about when she saw me was...the wedding. Ah, yes, the wedding. Of course. How quickly I forget. It was nearly a year ago now. A year!

A year ago at this time, I was getting ready for finals. Finals. Even the concept feels so foreign to me at this point. When I was in law school, occasionally someone would make reference to something that had appeared on a final I had taken. (Generally, talking about law school finals is totally taboo in all civilized circles, but now and then in conversation someone would drop a "oh, yeah, like that bizarre hypo with the cat and the lady with the pick up truck...") Anyway, when one of these references came up I, without fail, had no idea what this person was talking about. From the second I walked out of that exam room, if you had asked me one thing that was on the test, I couldn't have told you. Honestly. It's like how they say some abuse victims don't remember their abuse because they've just repressed the memory? I didn't understand how that was possible before law school. It's not like I'm not remembering because I don't want to. I honestly just don't.

This is all a long-winded, roundabout way of my saying...I think I also blocked out law school. Sometimes when I think back on it, I feel like it didn't really happen. Like I came out of college, took a three year nap, Rip Van Winkle style, and woke up a lawyer.

A year ago! Almost! Crazytown!