I've gotta hand it to myself...

...this was basically an awesome Christmas.  I love spending Christmas in our own house and having the kids wake up and run to their own tree and just doing our own thing.  For about two hours straight on Christmas Eve, our three-year-old walked around with a blanket over her head playing Mary (tucking a baby Jesus with a strong Cinderella resemblance into a pack-n-play with a pillow pet) while our nearly-two-year-old ran around as a renegade angel, waving a star wand and shouting "Behold!"  It was really, really sweet.  We had a big fat Christmas dinner party with a random assortment of friends (11 adults, 8 kids, 2 infants. It pretty much rocked.  I learned a lot from last year and (a) lowered my standards significantly and (b) only made the meat and rolls and invited everyone else to take care of the rest.  Totally recommend that.)  In sum, it was a perfect day full of family and friends and fun and not much stress, and for that I am grateful. 

I've heard it takes two years to feel at home somewhere: one year to get to know people and another to learn to love them.  I suspect that's true.  This is our third winter here in Iowa and so far, things are ideal (and not just because it hasn't snowed yet).  I haven't lived anywhere this long as an adult, and I feel like I am finally getting into my groove.

I know that means change is afoot.

Our kids are at very sweet (though sneaky) ages and are surprisingly independent; I like my calling; I like my job; I like my friends; I like my scene.  Which is remarkable because for the first little while of my existence with multiple children, I was operating at a pretty basic level, totally groove-less in a sea of babydom that's adorable in its chaos but nonetheless, chaotic.  And now our kids are getting bigger and I'm sloooowly learning to navigate this life.  Also, you know what?  I'm a kickass welcome wagon.  Honestly, my newfound friendliness is pretty hit-and-miss, but the misses are some of the best parts due to hilarity, and by hilarity I mean awkwardness level. Despite the hilarious misses, I remain largely unfazed.

Basically, it took me a few to get my footing in this new scene of mine in a new region of the country. Essentially, my takeaway from 2011 is that I learned to prioritize in smarter ways and anticipate my own needs better.  So this is my advice to old me and to the Internets and who(m)ever else about what I learned in the past year:

1. Decide what doesn't matter and chuck it!  Be ruthless.  For example, when it comes to my kids' clothing, I want them to look reasonable and feel good, the end.  I don't see them as an extension of me and my identity's not wrapped up in it and I never want to have a conversation about brands or patterns or blahblahblah.  (Stay tuned for a forthcoming post about this principle.)  Because I don't care, I refuse to care or expend much time or energy on it, and that refusal is quite liberating.  This goes for bigger things, too, but clothes are an easy example.  Look at something.  Be honest with yourself about how much you care.  If your answer is, "I care very little," then just put it away.  You only answer to yourself, and your family if you have one, and God if you believe in one.  But you're in charge of you and what's important to you, and that is awesome.  
2. Adjust your expectations.  This is less depressing than it sounds, but I often recommend lowering your standards significantly.  For example, when we had our first baby, I felt really uptight about her sleeping.  All anyone wanted to know was "How is she sleeping?" "Is your sleeping?"  "How was your night last night?" and every night I felt like a failure, because she wasn't sleeping great, and a barrage of well-meaning questions reduced me to tears.  And I realized that keeping score by how she slept was going to make me bummed out.  What's the solution?  STOP IT.  She's a baby!  I made peace with the fact that because we have small children, we are going to get crappy sleep.  Any sleep anybody gets for the next decade should feel like a bonus.  Voila!  I suddenly felt awesome because did we get SOME sleep? Yes!  Then, hurray!  So, do that with whatever's bumming you out. 
3. Value your time.  I regret wasting absurd amounts of time on really dumb things that didn't matter to anyone, at all, ever.  For a simple example, briefing every case in law school?  That is dumb.  No one knows, or cares.  You need the information in that case, and you need to know the legal principle(s) contained therein, end of story.  You don't get a trophy for the briefing process or for taking three hours to do a one hour job.  So quit glorifying the process and start thinking about results.  Another example is making something homemade and complicated for a YW activity.  THAT IS STUPID.  From now on, if we need, say, cookies, I am buying them, unless there is a specific benefit to making them.  If I feel like making them, I will, because I do what I want.  But if I don't feel like making them, I will buy them and never feel bad about it.  What's more important, my afternoon or $5?  My afternoon!  Just because you have little kids doesn't mean you should spend your day on useless stuff that you don't find fulfilling.  Don't be a martyr!  If it's important to you and/or your kids, do it.  If it's not, forget it.  Delegate it or ditch it all together. 
4. Figure out the introvert-extrovert thing and take care of yourself accordingly.  Does everyone else already know this?  Introverts expend energy when they interact with others, and need to recharge with solitude. Extroverts GAIN energy when they interact with others, and recharge from other people.  Just picture yourself after a fun party.  Are you drained?  Introvert.  Are you pumped up?  Extrovert.  This means if you're an extrovert, you need to be around people.  For me, this means making friends, and if no one is friendly, it means finding friends and making my own fun, and also getting a kickass job that allows me to gain energy from other people, and some financial independence, and avoid mushbrain, and feel like myself.  But the tricky part is figuring out how much work is just enough to keep you awesome, and how to keep it from becoming so much work that you go crazy.  Still working on that.

Anyway, it wasn't a perfect year, but it was a pretty great one, and those are a few takeaways I learned the hard way.   The end.  Got any takeaways from YOUR 2011?

this is getting ridiculous

What kind of goober blogs like thrice a year?  Sorry, Internets.  I do what I can and sometimes that isn't blogging, y'know?  We've been busy adventuring, and by adventuring, I mean:

• making the annual journey west that pretty much every Mormon anywhere else does. 

• On said trip, hanging out with piles of friends and fam.  Lunch dates with old friends and new friends!  Weddings!  Races!  Emergency root canals!  Napless children on rampages!  I'll leave the sordid details out but in sum, it was delightful but a whirlwind and one of those vacations you need a vacation from at the end.  Especially when at the end, you find out your flight is way delayed and spontaneously decide to drive home instead! My sweet mother came home with me to watch our kids while I went to a youth camp for teen girls.  Turns out she was one of a dozen grandmas who came from Utah that week to be on babysitting duty for camp...maybe we should fit it into the church budget? Just an idea.

• Speaking of camp, it was in Boone, Iowa.  At first I thought that was a slang way of saying it was super far away, as in, "Oh, yeah, it's all the way out in boon!" but it turns out Boone is an actual place.  I know this because I spent four days and three nights there and we're all still recovering.  BAHAHA!  It was such a great time and by great I mean hot and humid and fun and funny.  I haven't been to Girls Camp since I was a teenager  myself and if you're wondering if IT has changed at all, the answer is no.  If you're wondering if I'VE changed at all, the answer is yes.  But I still went down the waterslide 17 times due to my awesomeness.  Also, I'm still trying to decide if I slept better on the wet ground than I do at home with small children waking up all the time.  Would you rather be INTERRUPTED but COMFORTABLE, or UNINTERRUPTED but UNCOMFORTABLE?  These are the questions that try (wo)men's souls.

• Being so friendly I freak myself out.

Also, I forgot to tell you that I got a newfangled phone that can do things like connect to the Internet.  I realize I'm like half a decade behind on this, but it's pretty handy.  Greater love hath no man than this, that he transfereth his phone upgrade to his wife.

Annnnnd that's the latest here.  How about you?

i can't e-shut up lately

• For Easter celebrating, I bought myself a chocolate bunny at the dollar store but can't bring myself to eat it now that I've noticed it's "milk chocolate flavored." Flavored. It's not even milk chocolate. Flavored WHAT--wax?? Shudder. Oh, Dollar Store, simultaneously so disgusting and so handy.

• Lesbian moms are friendlier than non-lesbian moms. Every time I go to the park or other public place where parents abound, I find this to be true. Why is this?

• "Fan us on facebook" is an absurd and horrible phrase. How is this becoming common? Sounds like Cleopatra eating grapes while someone fans her with large leaves. BEING a fan of something is not the same as FANNING something. Normally I don't mind verbing nouns but this fanning business is a line I cannot cross and hope to maintain any linguistic integrity.

• I distrust anyone with over 1,000 facebook friends. Something is fishy. If you have more than that, you're either fictional or you need to have a friend cleanse, because that is weird and overwhelming.
  

• Speaking of things that make me suspicious...I also distrust people who mention their clothing size in conversation, people who compare stuff to Hitler, people who take a lot of pictures of themselves, and people who never eat dessert. How about you?? Anything that immediately makes you suspicious?

• Conversely, I find myself immediately feeling more favorable toward those who don't mind dropping the occasional casual swearword, people who are nice to my children (even in passing, e.g., the stranger who smiles when my kid shouts "HI, BIKE!"), people who have uncomplicated hairdos, and people who appreciate a good fountain drink. How about you? Anything that immediately makes you feel good about someone?
  

Thank you for your time.

here i go

I've been having an intense fling with the Express Shelf at the library lately, a shelf of new-ish high demand books where the checkout period is shorter, no renewals. Perusing this shelf has led me to read more pop-culture-ish books than I normally would, including the recent trashy political tell-alls The Politician (about the John Edwards scandal) and Game Change. Reading books about semi-current events makes me feel more culturally literate, and also provides me with feelings of moral superiority because I'm not a power-hungry lunatic. This just in: most politicians are delusional, obnoxious, and lawyers. Coincidence?

The shelf has also led me to crack open the much-hailed book The Happiness Project, which is fascinating albeit a tad superficial. As you may know, author Gretchen Rubin spent a year trying to become happier in concrete ways, and every month tackled a specific goal, e.g., January's goal was to "boost energy" so she did things like exercise more, get more sleep, etc. (Note: a brief click tells me the blog is kind of lame, which is a bummer, bc I'm enjoying the book.) Anyway, she mentions she became happier when she stopped expecting a gold star for stuff. Just do it and enjoy it and ditch your need for someone else's appreciation. That's a big issue for me as a new-ish SAHM because I'm an attention whore (or as a classier friend says, "I require much love."). Basically, I need attention, and when you hang out with two (awesome) kids all day, it is fantastic in many ways but not so much dripping with accolades. So I spend a lot of time wondering if I am doing enough or if there's a rubric I can assess the day with or whatever. Obviously, you don't get a grade or a promotion or compliments from colleagues, and when you naturally need a lot of attention, it's kind of a let down (that is not a nursing reference). So you end up peppering your husband with statements that are acceptable from a six-year-old but bizarre for a grown woman, e.g., "Look! Look! I made dinner! Good job huh! Good job!? Do you like it? I swept. Did you see? I swept! Good job??" He will humor you, but still, yikes. Anyway, I'm not done with the book yet, but bits of it relate directly to my life in funny and thought-provoking ways. I've read about it here and there but if it weren't for the express shelf I would never have actually picked it up! It all comes back to that shelf, really. Will you read the book if you haven't already and then talk to me about it??

Speaking of which, the author read about Ben Franklin's Junto, a group of of 12 friends that met weekly for like forty years to talk about important stuff, and she liked the idea, and got a few friends together to be part of a regular "strategy group." I want one of those. How great does that sound?? A healthy discussion/debate with sharp people is like caffeine to me. Same with lunch dates. Well, and actual caffeine.

"let's make the most of this beautiful day..."

The scene: fifteen minutes ago, at my house.

I had just hauled one angry baby in a carseat into the house with one hand and finished dragging a singing toddler in with the other when I saw a really skinny, kind of crazy looking guy in his twenties walk up our driveway. He knocked on the door, and I opened it to see a dark beanie pulled down low over twitchy eyes; he had funky teeth but a big bright smile.

We then had the following exchange:

Me: Hi.

Guy: Hi! I just moved in and wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jake*. (*not his real name)

Me: Hi, Jake. I'm Gurrbonzo.

(he sticks out his hand, so I shake it)

(long, awkward silence while my kids scream and sing in the background)

Me, over the crying and singing: Well, welcome to the neighborhood. My kids are a little worked up so I'd better go, but nice to meet you.

Guy, like I didn't say anything, and like he was finally getting to the point of the conversation: What do you like to read?

Me, a little surprised: Um, lots of stuff. What do YOU like to read?

Guy: Magazines. Every kind of magazine. (big pause) Do you have any old ones I can have?

Me, wondering what the crap is going on: You know, we just recycled a bunch, but we get Newsweek and The Atlantic, so you can have those next time if you want.

(He crinkles his nose like I just offered him a diaper for dinner.)

Guy: I don't like Newsweek.

Me: Okay. What do you like?

Guy: Everything but Newsweek.

Me: Okay. Like what?

Guy: Glamour. Do you have any Glamours?

Me: Nope.

Guy: Kay, bye.

Discuss.

bc it's 10 degrees

• I would cry if Tim Hortons ever banned me for life, not only because life without sour cream Timbits is not worth living, but also because my personal history with life-long bans is so sordid. Banned from delicious doughnuts and soup for your WHOLE LIFE just for complaining about coffee? WHAT'S NEXT!?!?
• I keep deep-ugly-belly-laughing about this guy, a third-year law student who had an e-meltdown preserved for all the world to see when he had a little mix-up in the ole job search. Go read it. You'll thank me. The whole exchange is fantastic, but my favorite sentence: "I hereby require you to destroy [the attachments]." Umm, WHAT? Can you see him raising his powerful scepter and commanding the wind to stop? The sheer power of my words magically turns the mere utterance into enforceable code. I HEREBY REQUIRE YOU. Just like when Michael Scott declares bankruptcy by yelling "BANKRUPTCY!"
• I mention (and think) this often, but bad tv brings so much joy, particularly in the middle of a quiet winter, and as much as it pains my feminist heart to admit it, I love The Bachelor. I feel like I catch an STD just LOOKING at awful Vienna, and of COURSE Gia's mom reads Jake's tarot cards, and Tenley's dance, OH, Tenley's dance...God bless America.
• Sometimes I remember that my clever friend Kiersten has a big fat book deal and I get a little giddy because who doesn't want to a) see their friend LIVE THEIR DREAM and b) see a book at the store with their buddy's name on it? So, hurray.
• In other news, having multiple kids is awesome. Watching the big sister kiss her little sister's head forty times a day is turning me into a pile of weepy mush, especially now that I can sit down without wincing and my iron count is back up above want-to-collapse levels. Also, I'll share some hippie birth details shortly to try to peer pressure you, I mean, for posterity.
  

Anyway, I hereby require you to love me.

yapping

A peek into my head:

• On Monday it was so cold I got frozen eye. I've only had that happen a handful of times in my life. You know, when the wet part of your eye freezes for a sec so your eyelid sticks for a minute when you try to blink. It's awesome, and a little freaky.
• It is really, really cold. This isn't so bad considering I don't have to really go anywhere. We're talking the type of cold where if you get in the car and see a positive number on the thermometer you give thanks. Even if it's 1 or 0. AS IN IT IS ZERO DEGREES.
• I realized today how bizarre it is that we use plural with zero. As in "I have zero hats on." Why not singular? "It is zero degree." Oh, English, you magnificent bastard tongue.
• I got husband the book by that name (Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue) last Christmas and I enjoy saying the title whenever possible.
• The other day I interacted with a hilarious mom who, instead of saying a good old-fashioned "no," kept telling her two-year-old to "Make a better choice, please!" in a sing-song voice.
  
• It didn't work.
  
• I also overheard her say "to-mah-to." I love people.
• I'm at the point in pregnancy where you start thinking it's a permanent condition. I know I will not be pregnant forever, that eventually a child will emerge and I will no longer be this pregnant, but I don't feel like that will actually happen. Know what I mean?
• Here are some acceptable things to say to really pregnant women: "You look great!" "How are you feeling? You look like you're feeling fantastic!" "Wow! I can't believe you are [whatever length of time] along!" "I'm rooting for you and can't wait to hear how well everything goes."
• Here are some unacceptable things to say: really anything about how they must be miserable or due any day, or how your sister or cousin had the world's scariest near-death experience when she gave birth. Even if you have never made a truer statement, don't say it. Deal?
• In my recent nesting, I found an old homemade CD that includes "No Woman No Cry" AND "I'll See You When You Get There" AND the Pina Colada song. Isn't that a weird assortment?
  
• Man, I love ginger ale.
  
• Families with naming themes fascinate and confuse me. All M-names, for example, or all B-names or what have you. Why does this happen? Do you think they ever want to call it quits after a couple of kids but can't? Do they commit right out of the gate, with the first kid, or after three or four do they decide it's time to stick with it?
• At first I hated it, but now I miss Mad Men.

and another thing

I'm posting twice in a row, but don't let this new post stop you from reading the serious post below and nodding knowingly.

However, I have been catching up in blogland and was just wondering: What is the deal with cruises? Have you been on one? If so, why? Do you get claustrophobic? What is the difference, if any, between a cruise and a week-long all you can eat buffet with tanning lamps?

I don't know. I just don't know.

yappity yap

• I swear to you our kid gets cuter every day. Frankly, her cuteness is ridiculous. I've spent the majority of the week pretending to chase her around. I say "pretend" because I just have to act like I'm going to chase her, and then she'll cackle and shriek and run around the house and I just make noises and move slightly and then she comes back to me, like this joyful toddler boomerang.
  
• I busted out the maternity clothes this week. I put it off for a while, but the time is here. Unfortunately, I remain in the awkward limbo stage of pregnancy where my shirt choices are monstrous tent or leeeetle too snug, but I shall carry on. Sometimes I realize that we're going to have another kid and I can't help but grin. No wonder all these people have been having kids for so long. Turns out reproduction rocks.
  
• My brother and his hilarious fam came for a visit last week which was deeeeelightful, and we did lots of fun things like run around the city and eat and paint and blahblah. I asked the kids what their favorite part was (expecting they'd say the children's museum, or the awesome park downtown), and to my delight and amazement, they said, "The backyard!" and it melted my cold heart.
• A friend of mine, lamenting the number of her acquaintances who look identical, recently said, "If you have blonde hair and are over 20, you're a liar or an albino." BAHAHA!
• And finally, a lot of stuff in the ABA Journal can be semi-interesting. It provides easy, surface intros to some of the latest goings-on, like crazy settlements or huge layoffs or what have you. But every now and again, you run into a treat of an article like this one, with "consultants" offering older interviewees groundbreaking advice like (kid you not), "Ditch the combover or toupee," and "Try not to date yourself by saying things like 'in my day' or 'when I started out,'" and "Don't refer to women as 'gals.'" Wow. Great insight. No wonder you get PAID to give this advice. Every time I think about it, it gives me the giggles.
  

I'll stop my grumbles soon, but this must be said.

There's something you should know.

These are not decorations.
These look like hostages.

the latest

Well, last week was a helluva week!

• the damn bar exam. I'm really sick of talking about it, and if you have any friends or e-friends who took it, you're sick of hearing about it, so let me just say, in the words of my wise classmate (and former Miss Indian BYU): "Remember, results aren’t supposed to come out for 8-10 weeks. Don’t ask, if I don’t tell. And if I fail, it was because you weren’t faithful enough. So really, I’d be feeling bad for YOU." She also compared being done to "your birthday and Christmas wrapped in bacon and topped with a fudgesicle" so basically, it feels good.
  

• I ate a lot when I was in Utah, mostly Cafe Rio, Taco Amigo, JCWs, you know, the important things in life. I also had a delicious Gandolfo's breakfast sandwich on both mornings of the bar and plan to credit them with my success or blame it for my failure.
  

• I've gotten some interesting guidance from several friends about traveling alone with a toddler. One dear friend said, "Get people near you on your side before she freaks out. Then they'll be so charmed by her they won't even be mad when she's screaming." Another advised, "You will never see any of the people around you ever again, and you'll have that relationship with your kid your whole life. So worry about your kid and meet her needs and do your thing and don't feel bad about the strangers." I employed a mix of the two strategies and in spite of total dead-arm, a flight delay, a mini-meltdown or two (me, not the kid) and a couple of diaper situations (kid, not me), all was well.
  

• I had the first massage of my life thanks to a gift certificate from husband. I got it for graduation and made one of the best choices of my life by saving it until the day after the bar. Go get one, now. Sidenote: the place I went (in foothill village) just happens to be located in the same spot as the old office of a congressional campaign I worked on before law school, and don't worry, the room I was in was actually in MY OLD OFFICE. As in, I paid a stranger to give me a rubdown in the same little room I'd color maps and ask high-rollers for money in. Gross and awesome.

• It's great to be home. Husband painted the kitchen, living room, hall, kid's room and our room while we were gone, and it rocks.

• Anyway, I've been wondering lately about themed parties bc I think they're lame. I guess I get it if it's just a get together for the heck of it then great, but if the party already HAS A THEME, say, a bridal or baby shower, does it really need a second theme, like butterflies or luaus? Isn't the theme that it's a baby shower? Same with weddings. The theme is that it's your wedding. Stop dressing up like cowboys or whatever.

we made it!

I can't find anything.

Not the towels, not the can opener, not the freaking grocery store. But who needs to find stuff when you have a yard and a new state to call home? I'm a moron about directions generally, but when there are only gorgeous rolling hills but no mountains, I have no idea which direction I'm facing or really, where I live. So that's unfortunate. But I have a map and a phone and with those two things I cannot fail.

Unless I get turned around on the map and have a close call or two on a so-called one way street. In which case it's less of a "failure" and more of an "opportunity to learn from experience."

Part of how I know I really learned something in law school, or at least in my latest bar-study efforts, is when I have ridiculously nerdy responses to things, e.g., the parts of the Michael Jackson saga I'm most interested are about the details about his will and whether it's valid and why. Similarly, if you happen to, say, buy your first home right after reviewing for both the contracts and property law portions of the bar exam, you may enrage everyone else in the room when you insist on reading everything. But come on! Do I look like a dummy? If I sign something that says "ONLY TODAY'S WRITTEN AGREEMENT IS ENFORCEABLE AND NO ORAL PROMISES OR EXPLANATIONS HAVE ANY VALIDITY," am I really expected to listen to these guys 'explain' things to me and then take their word for it and sign my rights away? Sigh. I suspect this is just the beginning of a long life of being uptight. But that's what happens when all you do is learn about absurd worst case scenarios and the schmucks that get squished like bugs for not reading the fine print.

Remember The Office episode in which Michael locks everyone in the conference room to teach them a lesson and every law student in America had a heart attack because THAT HAS ALL THE ELEMENTS OF FALSE IMPRISONMENT?

Anyway. Our kid has loved the move, shrieking as she goes around each corner to discover ANOTHER empty room in which she can run around with her hands in the air shouting words she understands but no one else does and beaming at us. Sometimes she just claps and looks around delighted at the world and it melts my cold heart. She is also the cutest moving-urchin, in her pjs all day with who knows what smeared on her face and black feet from running barefoot on filthy floors. They're clean now though so when you come see us you can take your shoes off without fear. Also there are a bunch of kids next door who like to feed my kid raspberries through the fence, so if you hurry, maybe they'll be some left for you.


We moved!

(Imagine me saying that in the same voice little kids, e.g., my nieces, say things like "I DID IT!" after going to the bathroom. Triumphant, jubilant, please-applaud-me. That kind of tone.)

hrmm

"I like fry sauce. Those people who don't like fry sauce? I don't trust them."
--my dear friend Rachel W. at JCWs today

Discuss.

presenting a haphazard assortment of thoughts brought to you by Gurrbonzo, J.D.

*When I hear someone say "My bad!" I always pause for a moment and wonder if it's 1995.

*Sometimes, I pick up dinner from Paradise Bakery, but every time I order something to go, they hand me the bag to put it in, rather than just put the food in the bag themselves. This causes me to stand right in the way for a few minutes while I unfold said bag and put the stuff inside it, and each time I get rage. Why are you making me do this task that you could do much more easily, and for which you are paid?

*Similarly, I will go pretty far out of my way to hit up a Harmon's grocery store because they don't make me take the stuff out of my cart myself, and the ease and joy involved in not having that assignment be my problem is worth nigh unto any price, and it's kind of embarrassing how much I like it.


*Today I busted out some negotiation skills on a car dealer and it was empowering.


*One reason MCB and I are friends is because she sends me text messages like this one: "There are a bunch of wiccan goth types at Joann's. I love humanity."

*Today I bought our baby some adorable pink sandals. They were in a little bag so I didn't realize til after I got home that THE HEELS SQUEAK. That's right. Shoes for a one year old. Who just started walking. And they SQUEAK WITH EVERY STEP. Umm. Shoot me. Whose idea was that?

*The rumor is that in Mexico and Germany they call lawyers "doctor." Is that true? If so, can we start that up again here? But if I were a real doctor I'd be pissed bc I would have gone to a dozen more years of school than the fake lawyer doctors and I'd want them to know their role.

*I love it when someone I initially thought was boring and/or two-dimensional ends up being awesome. Those are my favorite surprises.

*Also, I graduated from law school this week. I don't know what to say about it except that honestly, there were times when I thought this day would never come, especially during the first year which, for me, was just as intense as everyone says it is. I had some serious "I've made a huge mistake" moments a la Gob Bluth before I found my groove. And now, suddenly it's all past tense. When I think about all the people I've met, and about my dear hub and my mom and a billion other family members who picked up so much of my school-induced slack and without whom this would never have happened, and when I think about the time going to law school first dawned on me as a painfully clueless 21-year-old pseudo-snicket, and when I remember applying to law school on a few p-days in the library in Shortsville, NY, and starting to hear back from law schools during the last few months of my mission and wondering what the freak the future held for me, and now I have a cute one-year-old and a J.D., I get a little disoriented and a little teary-eyed and a lot happy.
And then I think about the bar.

*I know they are different, but when I think about times in my life (mission, childbirth, law school, to name a few) where I have honestly felt like I could pick up the planet or a house or run across the country, just that for a split second I feel like I really can do anything, I want to do more hard things, because it is awesome. So for a split second I get why people become crazy triathletes and all of that. I mean, not enough to DO that, but I get it, and invite you to do something hard because in my admittedly minimal experience it's basically the best feeling in the world, and I can't think of anything more rewarding than realizing that hey, you know that thing you thought you couldn't do?
You just did.

renegade of justice

I am truly touched/startled at how many of you seemed truly alarmed at my parking predicament. Now that I've survived the ordeal, I can tell you about it and not have you worry about accomplice liability.

I drove my mom's car. That's right. I did. And parked in visitor parking. And MY HEART WAS POUNDING! There were two men* standing at the entrance, so I took an extra lap around the school, and then drove up, sweating and nervous. They came over to my car as I pulled into the lot and just looked at me.

I rolled down the window, checked behind them to see if there was a WANTED poster with my name and picture on it, then smiled sweetly and asked in my most innocent sister missionary voice: "Do I need a little ticket or anything?"

"No," they responded in the eerie, unnaturally pleasant tone all school employees are famous for, "As long as you're not a student here, you're fine."

I smiled and swallowed nervously as I saw the sign behind them which read Be prepared to show current identification upon request. What if they ask me my name? What if they look up my name and see the permanent ban and escort me away and I never finish law school and my picture hangs on the wall of shame indefinitely? I parked. I got out of the car as quickly as I could without looking suspicious and felt nervous all day. Well, every time I started to feel better, I'd see another person who would ask me excitedly, "HOW DID YOU GET HERE?" I was scared to answer bc they record everything.

BUT, I DID IT. So, I violated the ban, and I won, and it gave me a rush. Maybe this is why people shoplift...

*(meaning 21-year-olds with acne)

today I played a game called "name that chick"

It was bizarre and fun.

Speaking of bizarre, I listened to this podcast yesterday about 10 bizarre ways to die. (I've climbed on the "How Stuff Works" train lately and am slowly building up a startling reservoir of useless information.) Unfortunately, the website is one of those that makes you click "next" a thousand times instead of just showing you the whole article, so I'll do you a favor and jump you right to the weirdest one.

Anyway, the Name that Chick game involved charades-meets-Catchphrase/Taboo sort of antics where we acted out a solid assortment of famous women, including:

Oprah Winfrey
Catherine Mackinnon
Gwyneth Paltrow
Bella Abzug
Clara Barton
Diane Sawyer
Picabo Street

I don't know if you can really beat that as far as bizarre fun goes. Or can you?

the latest

What's the latest? Why, I'm glad you asked!

I made bread.

Myself.

Intense, I know. Next thing you know I'll be planning elaborate party favors for cute little baby girls turning one. Just kidding. That will never happen. But you know what I mean. Maybe this is one step closer to MCB taking me under her sewing wing. Clips! Pillows! Dresses! Curtains! Petticoats! Who knows!? The sky's the limit now that I'm making bread!

In other news, our kid is walking. Well, practically. Zombie steps here and there, but I think it counts. She gets the giggles these days and loves oranges, things with wheels, and minorities. Today it was hot so I took off her socks and shoes, so not only was she barefoot but she also had a runny nose. This makes for the cutest street urchin ever to roam the halls of the J Reub!

And speaking of school, IT IS MY LAST WEEK OF LAW SCHOOL. Can you believe it? I know, I know, some of us thought this day would never come, but here it is so let us rejoice and give thanks. There is but one big fat paper and one big fat final between me and freedom, if by freedom you mean studying for the bar. And guess who else is almost done with school, though he has a couple more weeks left than I do? Husband! So, yep, that's pretty great.

Okay, but seriously, back to the bread. I MADE IT. Like, kneaded it (seems like past tense should be kned) and everything. No gadgets. Just me and the flour, like Mother Eve (or whoever). Who knew it was a) so easy and b) so tasty?? Do you guys have OTHER such information that would have been useful like ten years ago?

In about two weeks...

...my mood will have improved by about one billion mood-measuring units and then I'll see what I can do about blogging more than, oh, say, every other month. Want to know why? Bc in two weeks:

• the MPRE will be over. Don't know what that is? Yeah, well, me neither, basically, but it's two days away so I better figure that out.
• My substantial writing project will be close to done (fingers crossed). If any of you would like to do that for me, please feel free.
  
• A little Miami law school adventure will be behind me!
• I will have survived my first few nights away from our sweet kiddo. (I flip out when I think about it too long, so hurry, change the subject. I know she'll be fine; I'm not worried about her, I'm worried about ME.)
• Husband will have survived HIS first few nights alone with our sweet kiddo.
  
• And again, the little Miami law school adventure will be behind me! I'm spending a few days in sunny Florida for a nerdy glorified-debate law school competition, which in a week and a half will be over and I won't have to say another word about whether Congress has the power to end the war or whether legislation limiting troops numbers and imposing withdrawal deadlines infringes on the President's power as commander-in-chief. In some ways, I'll be glad, but in other ways, I'll miss it, bc this is my last chance to advocate for a fake person with fake problems and to be honest, I like it. I recently realized that people think law school is cool, but lawyers are gross. This means that I have just under two months to milk the law school status before I go from getting the "Oh, that sounds interesting!" response to "Ew, you're a slimeball."

both are barfy, obviously

I hate these both enough that I'm a bit stuck in choosing which one to detest most. Input please.

Which one is worse:

1. Over-enthusiastic business-speak, a la "If we synergize, delegate and compare strengths and weaknesses, then execute a thoroughly composed business plan with a trajectory of success through saw-sharpening, cutting excess while showing we're self-starters with a lot of initiative, willing to take risks with a philosophy of economic independence and resourcefulness..."

OR

2. Reality TV dating speak, a la "I put myself out there and wore my heart on my sleeve and made myself vulnerable, and you've just gotta BE there a hundred percent, be ready for that, ready to live your life together and be with the one you love forever and take those risks, and fall, and fall hard, and put yourself out there in spite of it all, just living in the moment."

What if you had to pick one to hear on repeat for a week straight?

Just wondering.

warning: rambles ahead

Sooooo, when you only blog every three months or so, you end up with a lot to say, so here goes nothing.

I had a kind of crazy high school teacher who advised me in my yearbook to "always channel my positive energy for good" which I think is funny--was he worried I would channel it for evil? Maybe I would have made a great enthusiastic drug dealer or an overly peppy oil tycoon?? Who knows. Anyway, I have an unusually enormous amount of rage lately, so I'm working on channeling it for good and it's a challenge. So if you have any tips on DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE with one's rage, I'm all e-ears. A few things upsetting me lately:

Obama is not a socialist. Chill out. I don't really want to have this conversation, but the way people throw that word around is so dumb it's starting to get hilarious, and I'm embarrassed for them.

And, health care is a disaster. No buts about it. Quit saying "Well, in Canada you have to wait six months to see a doctor." A) that's not true and B) US health care is embarrassingly bad. We drop a buttload of cash on health care per capita and have nothing to show for it. Adequate health care is a right, not a privilege. A right. Yep. You heard it here. If you're sick, you should be able to expend your energy on getting better, not on figuring out if you can afford it. I could rage about this for a long time. My ever-wise and delightful rage support group member and friend Mormon Child Bride just said that it's funny when people act like giving everyone health care "is frivolous, like giving everyone a BMW." Bahaha! One more reason she's a champ. Anyway, I'm not saying I've got all the answers on health care, but I am saying that it drives me CRAZY when we act like there's no room for improvement, or that any improvement or attempt to change the system is turning us into Sweden.

Also, what's with people thinking it's racist to ACKNOWLEDGE RACE? If one more person says we shouldn't talk about how Obama's black, I'm going to lose it. He is black, and it is amazing that this country has elected a black man. No, I don't think he's Jesus, but I do think it's awesome, and ignoring that he's black is ignoring a helluva lot about his election. I'm proud that a country founded by slave owners has come far enough to put him in the White House. You know how he was sworn in on the same Bible Lincoln was? Well, I read recently that the justice that swore Lincoln in is the same one who wrote the Dred Scott decision. So, Obama's hand was on the same book as the hand of a man who, not all that long ago, held that black people were property. This is a big deal.

And now for an abrupt subject change: CHILDBIRTH. I don't think you are allowed to say you "went natural" if you had a medicated birth but no c-section. As much as I'd rather not write the word "vaginal" on my blog, I'm willing to do it here to make a point: just say you delivered vaginally if you want to express the fact that you didn't have a c-section but did, in fact, have an epidural and/or other medication. While I respect all forms of childbirth, if you say you "went natural," you are implying drug-free. Aren't you?? And misrepresenting that is just not fair. Even though I say I didn't do it for the bragging rights, I kind of did, so quit lame-ing it up, okay?

I also have a LOT of rage about when people don't acknowledge their own biases. I am biased. Of course I am. We all are. I had a professor that was always talking about "the liberal agenda" and even using that term seriously in an academic setting made me tune out most of what he said because I felt like he was Rush Limbaugh. Did he say important, interesting things? Probably, but I couldn't hear them because he was busy sounding crazy. I listened to RadioWest the other day about this Sundance film on free speech. I love First Amendment law issues so I was particularly interested, and I get what the filmmaker is going for, but she was just so flippant about "conservatives and their biases" that she came off sounding extreme and undermining what could otherwise have garnered a sizable audience. And if I'm turned off and I AM pretty liberal, what's everyone else thinking? Anyway, I have rage about that and more generally, when we only talk about other people and what they do wrong instead of thinking in practical terms about how we contribute to various problems (and then, how we can help solve them). For example, I complained about the air today (and seriously, doesn't it look gross?), then realized it's because of ME, and people like me, who do things like commute 90 miles round trip (even if it's only twice a week, that's a lot). So what can I do?

Drop out.

Just kidding. But I can only drive when I absolutely have to. See, my fault. I just keep thinking "So what?" As in, so what do I do about it? (Yes, I see the irony in this paragraph...I'm complaining about othr people complaining...hrmmmmm). But seriously. I'm taking a class right now that is digging up a lot of my rage about gender in the law, women's rights, and I'm working on "channeling it for good."

I also have rage about people not making new friends. I have a number of awesome friends, some old, some new, some twenty, some forty (really, I have made a lot of 40-year-old friends lately. No one knows why. I really like it, though. Forty is the new, um, cool age). Anyway, let's all make new friends. Hang out with someone new. Make a new couple-friend, a new girlfriend, a new lunch date, whatever. Why is making new hang-out friends so weird? We don't have to have kids the same age to hang out. Turns out you actually have a lot to talk about when you don't have much in common. At least, I think you do. I don't know; I need new friends. Bahaha! I shall now reiterate: "If two of you think alike, one of you is unnecessary." Now, sometimes I like thinking exactly like the people around me (i.e., when I have this intense rage and need a support group). But most of the time, it's fun to disagree and it teaches me a lot. It's a bummer Arby's ruined a perfectly good sentence: different is good.

In other news, our cute kid just melts my heart. She's doing this new thing where she covers her face with a blanket and we say "Where's our cute baby?" and she unveils herself and we yell "There she is!" and she smiles and claps and turns me into a pile of mush. I just can't believe how awesome she is. Also is there anything better than hearing your hub read your kiddo a story? Why, no, no there is not.

Also, I love Kneaders. Why isn't there one closer to where we live?

Welp, that about covers it.