Shortly after arriving at work today, I did my scan of the stories appearing today in the NYT. (They send out an email.)
What’s this?
There was an article about John Updike, and the synopsis referred to him in the past tense.
Those idiots, Updike isn’t dead.
I clicked on the link to the story.
Updike died yesterday.
I don’t know if it was PMS or what, but I teared up and felt miserably depressed about four lines into the article, deciding to close the window.
For many years I’ve had a subscription to the New Yorker, and I’m sure at some point, I’ve read one of Updike’s short stories. However, none of them ever left any sort of impression on me.
But as it is, it happened that a few months ago, I stood in a used book store and found the entire Rabbit series in paperback for less than ten dollars. At the time, I’d just broken up with Boy and was looking for some good man-hating fiction. I knew that Rabbit, Run, the first book in the series, was about a guy who abandoned his pregnant wife and child, and I figured it was just what I needed – a story about a weak, selfish man.
And yet I was disappointed. Rabbit, Run to me, was not a story about a lame conscience, but a tale of God (a Protestant god, to be specific). It seemed as if the writer were struggling with his intellectual side (that God could not exist) while holding fast to a cultural upbringing (that God did in fact exist, must exist, how could he not, one cannot even question).
A short monologue-like portion involving a Lutheran preacher was the best part of the book. When I finished it, I felt ripped-off. I didn’t like the book, didn’t agree with the author. I asked around to see if anyone else had read it and come to the same conclusion. (No one had – read it, that is.)
And I had some hang-up with the sex scenes. Why did I find them so intolerable? Sex is rampant in many novels; it’s a natural part of life. I realized that it was his approach to sex in the books. It always seemed so animalistic and sinful in a way, very contradictory to my viewpoint of sex.
I had no desire to read further, but how could I not? I had ALL FOUR books. Rabbit Redux was much better in a sense. I liked it the same way I liked Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion. The 60’s era is a fascinating piece of U.S. history, and there was something intriguing in seeing it fictionalized in the eyes of someone who lived in it. To me the over-arching theme of Rabbit Redux was “America is this big melting pot…but not really.”
That’s as far as I got. Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest still sit on the shelf. Somewhere in there I got distracted by book-club books or other bargains I picked up over the weeks (like Little Children by Tom Perotta – wasn’t that good by the way.)
So today I sat there wondering why I was so upset to hear the news of Updike’s death. Well, it was this. Updike was a good writer and an intelligent writer. Though I didn’t particularly like his books, I did like reading them, if that makes any sense. And despite disagreeing with his viewpoint (and why wouldn’t I, a woman from a different generation), I appreciated being exposed to his perspective.
He was good at what he did, and there was value in what he wrote. For that I admire him and am sad to see him go.
PS - if you're wondering why so many literary-related posts lately (because more are coming), it's not because I'm reading more than usual. It's just that I don't have much of a life right now. I work all day, come home, walk the dog, do a few things, and then read for about half an hour before going to bed. In a sense, books are the closest semblance to a social life I have this week.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Life Imitating Art...
I woke up this morning feeling fussy. I went to bed early, got plenty of sleep, woke up on time feeling rested, and then promptly rolled over and smacked the Sleep button on my alarm clock.
It was freaking cold in my house, 59 degrees I guestimated. I can’t turn the thermostat much above 60 because my house was not supposed to be a house. It was originally a garage, and is built with the fine craftsmanship that most detached garages are constructed with. The walls are no more than four inches thick and there is zero installation. If I up the thermostat, the heat runs all night (because it’s an old system later added), and it never quite warms the house because all the heat escapes. At the same time, my tiny garage apartment ends up with a $300 electric bill. (During the summer that I was in Paris, I unplugged everything, set the thermostat to 90, and still ended up with $100 per month.)
Grumble. I sat there in bed, waiting either for warmth or for the dog to come tell me that she could wait no longer for her morning walk. After an hour or so, I crawled out of bed and jacked up the heat. Then, I texted SC to announce that I would be late. I added up the number of weeks I’d worked and the sparse number of days that I’d worked 8 hours or less, and figured I was entitled to a day of tardiness.
“I’m coming in sometime this morning, but I’m not out of bed yet,” I told her.
“Are you sick or just sick and tired?” she texted back jokingly.
Hrmph. Work-my-butt-off-everyday, never-take-a-lunch, work-evenings-and-weekends, don’t-get-paid-much. Hrmph. I am so under-appreciated.
Finally got out of bed and was disgusted that I had to put on ‘work clothes’.
Hrmph.
My pants were tight.
Ugh.
My shoes were uncomfortable.
Ick.
The dog wouldn’t leave me alone.
Why do I bother with this world?
I could be writing. I could be traveling. I could be having sex with strangers. After it was over, I could leave without ever having a serious conversation. I would never have that feeling that they were dumb, that I was weird or misunderstood, or that horrible feeling of isolation that comes, not when you’re alone, but around others. But no, I was in the car on my way to work, sucking down a cigarette in order to tide me over until I could go home (whenever that was) and drink red wine until I passed out.
Why am I so angry?
I was half-way to work when I laughed out loud. I’d fallen asleep reading Franny & Zooey. I’d felt such joy at identifying with Franny. So few people got us. However, Franny must have gotten to me because ten hours later I was still in that mode.
Today I learned that you have to be careful when reading Salinger, and also that in some ways I have not progressed beyond the emotional maturity of an angsty teenager.
My behavior this morning, "it really killed me."
It was freaking cold in my house, 59 degrees I guestimated. I can’t turn the thermostat much above 60 because my house was not supposed to be a house. It was originally a garage, and is built with the fine craftsmanship that most detached garages are constructed with. The walls are no more than four inches thick and there is zero installation. If I up the thermostat, the heat runs all night (because it’s an old system later added), and it never quite warms the house because all the heat escapes. At the same time, my tiny garage apartment ends up with a $300 electric bill. (During the summer that I was in Paris, I unplugged everything, set the thermostat to 90, and still ended up with $100 per month.)
Grumble. I sat there in bed, waiting either for warmth or for the dog to come tell me that she could wait no longer for her morning walk. After an hour or so, I crawled out of bed and jacked up the heat. Then, I texted SC to announce that I would be late. I added up the number of weeks I’d worked and the sparse number of days that I’d worked 8 hours or less, and figured I was entitled to a day of tardiness.
“I’m coming in sometime this morning, but I’m not out of bed yet,” I told her.
“Are you sick or just sick and tired?” she texted back jokingly.
Hrmph. Work-my-butt-off-everyday, never-take-a-lunch, work-evenings-and-weekends, don’t-get-paid-much. Hrmph. I am so under-appreciated.
Finally got out of bed and was disgusted that I had to put on ‘work clothes’.
Hrmph.
My pants were tight.
Ugh.
My shoes were uncomfortable.
Ick.
The dog wouldn’t leave me alone.
Why do I bother with this world?
I could be writing. I could be traveling. I could be having sex with strangers. After it was over, I could leave without ever having a serious conversation. I would never have that feeling that they were dumb, that I was weird or misunderstood, or that horrible feeling of isolation that comes, not when you’re alone, but around others. But no, I was in the car on my way to work, sucking down a cigarette in order to tide me over until I could go home (whenever that was) and drink red wine until I passed out.
Why am I so angry?
I was half-way to work when I laughed out loud. I’d fallen asleep reading Franny & Zooey. I’d felt such joy at identifying with Franny. So few people got us. However, Franny must have gotten to me because ten hours later I was still in that mode.
Today I learned that you have to be careful when reading Salinger, and also that in some ways I have not progressed beyond the emotional maturity of an angsty teenager.
My behavior this morning, "it really killed me."
Has anyone else noticed...
..the PBS advertisement for a Charles Dickens show/series that has Coldplay music in the background?
Um, yeah. Weird - kind of like Gwynnie's new blog. (Hat tip to Weef. If not for Weef, I would not even know who was a celebrity and who wasn't.)
Um, yeah. Weird - kind of like Gwynnie's new blog. (Hat tip to Weef. If not for Weef, I would not even know who was a celebrity and who wasn't.)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sorry, no cheese...
You want a work-related post right? This is supposed to be somewhat of a law blog, and although no one else EVER talks about work, Ana can talk about the aspects of work without really talking about her work per se. We’ll see how this goes.
If, you haven’t yet figured it out, I’m home tonight. Yes, on a FRIDAY! [You'll understand later.] Don’t worry. It’s by choice. With all the rush at work, some sort of social event nearly every night this past week, and a jam-packed weekend, I’m taking a night off.
And that’s where you come in dear readers. In the next hour or so, I’m going to see just how many posts I can get out (pending the random phone call of someone I haven’t spoken to in ages). Then, I’m going to save them and release one a day. Maybe that way I can still post “regularly.” I feel so bad. In school I posted all the time. Believe me when I tell you that my lack of posting is not because I don’t love you guys. I do, I do! Nor is it a lack of material. There’s more every day!
I just don’t always have the time, and when I sit down, I’m not always in the mood to write. But tonight, it seems to be working, so we’ll see how long I can stay awake.
So a teensy insight into…the legal work environment. Supposedly it’s awful. Partners dump work on your desk at 4:30 pm on Friday and you shrug it off as part of the culture, right? Um, well, I feel the need to tell you that thus far, my life has not been that way. Yes, I work my butt off, but I don’t feel beaten down. That being said, I’m not at a firm, so I can’t speak to BigLaw life, but here’s a peek at mine.
One Monday when I came into work, Senior Counsel (hereinafter SC) popped into my office and said, “I have a present for you!”
Presents? For me? But Christmas is over. And Hanukkah, too!
What was it, you ask?
A wireless mouse.
You see, because I’m still learning, I spend much of my time in SC’s office. Every day I trot into her office and plop down at her work-table with my laptop. I’m not the smoothest technology-wise, and darnit if I didn’t struggle with the thumbpad.
Now it’s a small gift, but it touched me. I mean, she noticed that I needed it. Then, while out shopping on a weekend no less, she thought of me, and picked one up. Not only is it a thoughtful gift, but it makes me more efficient in the workplace!
A very sweet gesture, to say the least, and at the most, much better than receiving a large file on a Friday.
If, you haven’t yet figured it out, I’m home tonight. Yes, on a FRIDAY! [You'll understand later.] Don’t worry. It’s by choice. With all the rush at work, some sort of social event nearly every night this past week, and a jam-packed weekend, I’m taking a night off.
And that’s where you come in dear readers. In the next hour or so, I’m going to see just how many posts I can get out (pending the random phone call of someone I haven’t spoken to in ages). Then, I’m going to save them and release one a day. Maybe that way I can still post “regularly.” I feel so bad. In school I posted all the time. Believe me when I tell you that my lack of posting is not because I don’t love you guys. I do, I do! Nor is it a lack of material. There’s more every day!
I just don’t always have the time, and when I sit down, I’m not always in the mood to write. But tonight, it seems to be working, so we’ll see how long I can stay awake.
So a teensy insight into…the legal work environment. Supposedly it’s awful. Partners dump work on your desk at 4:30 pm on Friday and you shrug it off as part of the culture, right? Um, well, I feel the need to tell you that thus far, my life has not been that way. Yes, I work my butt off, but I don’t feel beaten down. That being said, I’m not at a firm, so I can’t speak to BigLaw life, but here’s a peek at mine.
One Monday when I came into work, Senior Counsel (hereinafter SC) popped into my office and said, “I have a present for you!”
Presents? For me? But Christmas is over. And Hanukkah, too!
What was it, you ask?
A wireless mouse.
You see, because I’m still learning, I spend much of my time in SC’s office. Every day I trot into her office and plop down at her work-table with my laptop. I’m not the smoothest technology-wise, and darnit if I didn’t struggle with the thumbpad.
Now it’s a small gift, but it touched me. I mean, she noticed that I needed it. Then, while out shopping on a weekend no less, she thought of me, and picked one up. Not only is it a thoughtful gift, but it makes me more efficient in the workplace!
A very sweet gesture, to say the least, and at the most, much better than receiving a large file on a Friday.
Monday, January 26, 2009
More Coming Soon...
Hola, I actually started a follow-up to my marriage/bridesmaid post on Saturday and planned to finish it tonight...BUT
SC: Hey, Ana. What do you think about going home at 4 today?
Me: Really?
SC: Yeah, you can go home, walk/feed the dog, and then come back at 6 so we can get some more work done.
Me: I can do that.
I'm not complaining at this point. I've got a job I really like, and I've got a full workload - something you want in these uncertain economic times.
Thanks for all the comments on the post thus far. Every time someone adds one, I think of something else I want to say!
Oh, one little housekeeping item. I really like it when people comment on this blog. Therefore I would ask (you know, since it's my blog and all) that if you have something to comment on what I wrote, go right ahead...but please be extra-considerate to my other commenters. I really do appreciate getting a wide variety of opinions and would like to keep it that way. K thanx.
SC: Hey, Ana. What do you think about going home at 4 today?
Me: Really?
SC: Yeah, you can go home, walk/feed the dog, and then come back at 6 so we can get some more work done.
Me: I can do that.
I'm not complaining at this point. I've got a job I really like, and I've got a full workload - something you want in these uncertain economic times.
Thanks for all the comments on the post thus far. Every time someone adds one, I think of something else I want to say!
Oh, one little housekeeping item. I really like it when people comment on this blog. Therefore I would ask (you know, since it's my blog and all) that if you have something to comment on what I wrote, go right ahead...but please be extra-considerate to my other commenters. I really do appreciate getting a wide variety of opinions and would like to keep it that way. K thanx.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Never a bridesmaid, never a bride?
At the age of thirty-three years, I have never been a bridesmaid. You might think that this is just a happenstance occurrence. Well, it’s not. I’m not a bridesmaid type of girl.
To begin with, I don’t believe in marriage. Gasp! Are you done with your judging? Can we move on now? Ok. As I was saying, I think the concept of marriage is pretty darn creepy. I mean, you legally bind yourself to another person. I can barely stand a day of clothes that bind. How am I supposed to do that with another person, and one of the opposite sex at that? The mere thought of it makes me want to go breathe into a paper bag.
Oh sure. I can totally see myself being with someone long-term later in my life. “Long-term” being an ambiguous word used ambivalently. To me, there isn’t just one person out there for you. Different people are right for me at different times. And some times, the right thing for me is to be alone.
And legally binding? Dude, that’s romantic. If I love someone and they love me and we choose to be together forever, doesn’t it seem just the littlest bit hypocritical to protect myself legally in case it doesn’t work out? And divorce, what a bitch. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe if you legally bind yourself to another person you think long and hard before you leave. Personally for me, I think I’d feel trapped as soon as I signed the darn paper. I wouldn’t even make it to divorce. After the license was filled out, I’d probably have no desire to sleep with that person again. I might be one of the few people who could qualify for an annulment.
Now I realize that others, quite a few people in fact, do not share my outlook on this whole marriage thing. I respect that. To each his own, whatever floats your boat, and all that jazz. Go for it, I say. And while my view on marriage isn’t something I talk about all the time; it is something I share with my good friends. …So when they get married, do you think I am the person they want standing up on the altar/bimah/rose garden to share in their sacred matrimony? Not so much really.
Then there is my whole Miss Independent Woman thing. Someone once told me that I am the first person they call when they break-up with a guy, not because I’m anti-man, but because I’m so pro on being your own person. I’m the girl who’d go to a gala by herself or movies by herself or dinner by herself or a bar by herself. I don’t ever keep myself from doing something because I don’t have a date. So in that instance, I’m not exactly the first person you think of to be a bridesmaid. I mean, my friends probably think they would need to have an unmatched number of bridesmaids and groomsmen just so I could walk down the aisle by myself.
And the other thing? I always tell my friends that I would be more than happy to be a bridesmaid one day...as long as I can wear pants.
That crosses me off the list faster than anything else.
And sometimes I flat out tell my friends, “If you ever get married, I don’t want to be a bridesmaid.”
Oh you think that’s kinda bitchy, huh? You know what I think is bitchy? Paying $300 for an ugly dress and dyed shoes Tacky. Planning parties with penis straws. Tacky. Helping a girl spend her hard-earned cash on linens and flowers and notecards. Dude, save it for the down payment on a house.
And the ring? Well, I’ve said before on this blog that I think the ring is symbolic of a dog collar/ID tag… “If found, please return to…This person belongs to someone else…This person is the PROPERTY of someone else.” That’s what I think of when I see a wedding ring. That whole big and shiny thing? It’s like a diversion to steer you away from the ownership meaning behind it.
I know I’m a bit harsh. A wedding ring for a lot of people means they love each, that they’re committed to each other. That’s great. Should I ever love and commit myself to someone, I don’t think I’ll need to wear a piece of jewelry on my hand that advertises it like a billboard. I’d rather have a cool brooch or necklace or something that he and I know is our symbol, but no one else does…like it’s just for the two of us…because that’s what commitment is to me. It’s just about the two people. Inviting all your acquaintances and smelly relatives to a party kinda ruins the intimacy.
Now comes the part where I tell you that a few weeks ago someone asked me to be their bridesmaid.
I love this person...a lot.
I love her fiancé even more.
However, I do not want to be a bridesmaid, and I jokingly told her this, but then agreed to do it, because HOW THE HECK CAN YOU SAY NO TO YOUR FUTURE SISTER-IN-LAW?
Really, can you imagine the family drama with that one? Or god forbid, it would probably totally hurt her feelings even though it’s nothing personal. And really, I am completely flattered that she asked me.
I JUST DON’T WANT TO.
But, Sis-in-law is a cool chick, and I figured it wouldn’t be quite so awful as she wasn't the type to do the whole big wedding thing.
Never assume, my friends. I mean, you think you know someone.
As soon as I said yes, Sis-in-law promised that she wouldn’t pick ugly dresses.
Excuse me? Do people still do that? I mean, I know I made the dyed-shoes joke, but I thought matching bridesmaid dresses were a thing of the past. I thought everybody did the black-or-other-color-of-the-bride’s-choice-dress-of-specified-length-thing now. It’s such a great idea. People get to pick out dresses that are flattering to their body shape. They can spend as little or as much as they want, and holy of holies, they can actually wear the thing more than once.
But no, not me. If I’m going to ruin my thirty-something year streak it is probably destined to be in something like hot pink taffeta.
DON’T MAKE ME!!!!!!!
Sis-in-Law hasn’t picked out the dresses yet though – that I know of – so I’m hoping that maybe I can somehow subtly suggest the pick-your-own thing. *COUGH*Babysis, I need your help on this because*COUGH*I am never subtle about anything.*COUGH*
And did you know, that even though the wedding is over a year away, Sis-in-law is already sending my mom guest lists and venue options? For the guests, she’s at 100 people(a year out, she’s at 100! I’m not sure I know 100 people, much less would I want them at my wedding.) And the venues? My mother tells me S-I-L has narrowed down 82 or so.
Oh dear goodness.
And then Sis-in-law emailed me the other day about the Bachelorette Weekend. Bachelorette Weekend? You mean I can’t just show up the day-of in my nappy bridesmaid dress and get credit for service?
No.
We’re all going to Vegas.
Oh yee-haw. I’ve heard that the Bellagio is just like being in Italy, and Caesar’s just like Rome and Paris is just like Paris!
Not.
I so can’t wait to buy the flight, the hotel, the many drinks. However, I now firmly draw the line and announce that there will be no penis straws. I refuse to partake, condone, or witness.
I’m a horrible person. I know this. I love Sis-in-Law. I will survive this, maybe even enjoy parts of it. And it could be worse. I mean, I could be living with her while she does all this planning stuff. Which is to say, I could be my brother. That’s gotta suck.
EDITED TO AMEND - I knew Sis-in-law was a cool person. I knew something was up. This whole BIG WEDDING THING? It's my brother! My brother is the one who wants it. Oh egad! - END EDIT
Oh and P.S. – If I’m ever with a guy for a long period of time, and we decide to have some sort of “commitment ceremony”? The ceremony will be ten minutes. No bridespeople or groomspeople or house-party crapola. Afterwards there will be a large BBQ. Flip-flops are required, and if I decide to go all out, I might rent Bevo for the party – Bevo being the steer that stands at the end of the field during Texas football games. Oh, and of course this goes without saying, but full-bar and free cabs. Now that's a party.
To begin with, I don’t believe in marriage. Gasp! Are you done with your judging? Can we move on now? Ok. As I was saying, I think the concept of marriage is pretty darn creepy. I mean, you legally bind yourself to another person. I can barely stand a day of clothes that bind. How am I supposed to do that with another person, and one of the opposite sex at that? The mere thought of it makes me want to go breathe into a paper bag.
Oh sure. I can totally see myself being with someone long-term later in my life. “Long-term” being an ambiguous word used ambivalently. To me, there isn’t just one person out there for you. Different people are right for me at different times. And some times, the right thing for me is to be alone.
And legally binding? Dude, that’s romantic. If I love someone and they love me and we choose to be together forever, doesn’t it seem just the littlest bit hypocritical to protect myself legally in case it doesn’t work out? And divorce, what a bitch. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe if you legally bind yourself to another person you think long and hard before you leave. Personally for me, I think I’d feel trapped as soon as I signed the darn paper. I wouldn’t even make it to divorce. After the license was filled out, I’d probably have no desire to sleep with that person again. I might be one of the few people who could qualify for an annulment.
Now I realize that others, quite a few people in fact, do not share my outlook on this whole marriage thing. I respect that. To each his own, whatever floats your boat, and all that jazz. Go for it, I say. And while my view on marriage isn’t something I talk about all the time; it is something I share with my good friends. …So when they get married, do you think I am the person they want standing up on the altar/bimah/rose garden to share in their sacred matrimony? Not so much really.
Then there is my whole Miss Independent Woman thing. Someone once told me that I am the first person they call when they break-up with a guy, not because I’m anti-man, but because I’m so pro on being your own person. I’m the girl who’d go to a gala by herself or movies by herself or dinner by herself or a bar by herself. I don’t ever keep myself from doing something because I don’t have a date. So in that instance, I’m not exactly the first person you think of to be a bridesmaid. I mean, my friends probably think they would need to have an unmatched number of bridesmaids and groomsmen just so I could walk down the aisle by myself.
And the other thing? I always tell my friends that I would be more than happy to be a bridesmaid one day...as long as I can wear pants.
That crosses me off the list faster than anything else.
And sometimes I flat out tell my friends, “If you ever get married, I don’t want to be a bridesmaid.”
Oh you think that’s kinda bitchy, huh? You know what I think is bitchy? Paying $300 for an ugly dress and dyed shoes Tacky. Planning parties with penis straws. Tacky. Helping a girl spend her hard-earned cash on linens and flowers and notecards. Dude, save it for the down payment on a house.
And the ring? Well, I’ve said before on this blog that I think the ring is symbolic of a dog collar/ID tag… “If found, please return to…This person belongs to someone else…This person is the PROPERTY of someone else.” That’s what I think of when I see a wedding ring. That whole big and shiny thing? It’s like a diversion to steer you away from the ownership meaning behind it.
I know I’m a bit harsh. A wedding ring for a lot of people means they love each, that they’re committed to each other. That’s great. Should I ever love and commit myself to someone, I don’t think I’ll need to wear a piece of jewelry on my hand that advertises it like a billboard. I’d rather have a cool brooch or necklace or something that he and I know is our symbol, but no one else does…like it’s just for the two of us…because that’s what commitment is to me. It’s just about the two people. Inviting all your acquaintances and smelly relatives to a party kinda ruins the intimacy.
Now comes the part where I tell you that a few weeks ago someone asked me to be their bridesmaid.
I love this person...a lot.
I love her fiancé even more.
However, I do not want to be a bridesmaid, and I jokingly told her this, but then agreed to do it, because HOW THE HECK CAN YOU SAY NO TO YOUR FUTURE SISTER-IN-LAW?
Really, can you imagine the family drama with that one? Or god forbid, it would probably totally hurt her feelings even though it’s nothing personal. And really, I am completely flattered that she asked me.
I JUST DON’T WANT TO.
But, Sis-in-law is a cool chick, and I figured it wouldn’t be quite so awful as she wasn't the type to do the whole big wedding thing.
Never assume, my friends. I mean, you think you know someone.
As soon as I said yes, Sis-in-law promised that she wouldn’t pick ugly dresses.
Excuse me? Do people still do that? I mean, I know I made the dyed-shoes joke, but I thought matching bridesmaid dresses were a thing of the past. I thought everybody did the black-or-other-color-of-the-bride’s-choice-dress-of-specified-length-thing now. It’s such a great idea. People get to pick out dresses that are flattering to their body shape. They can spend as little or as much as they want, and holy of holies, they can actually wear the thing more than once.
But no, not me. If I’m going to ruin my thirty-something year streak it is probably destined to be in something like hot pink taffeta.
DON’T MAKE ME!!!!!!!
Sis-in-Law hasn’t picked out the dresses yet though – that I know of – so I’m hoping that maybe I can somehow subtly suggest the pick-your-own thing. *COUGH*Babysis, I need your help on this because*COUGH*I am never subtle about anything.*COUGH*
And did you know, that even though the wedding is over a year away, Sis-in-law is already sending my mom guest lists and venue options? For the guests, she’s at 100 people(a year out, she’s at 100! I’m not sure I know 100 people, much less would I want them at my wedding.) And the venues? My mother tells me S-I-L has narrowed down 82 or so.
Oh dear goodness.
And then Sis-in-law emailed me the other day about the Bachelorette Weekend. Bachelorette Weekend? You mean I can’t just show up the day-of in my nappy bridesmaid dress and get credit for service?
No.
We’re all going to Vegas.
Oh yee-haw. I’ve heard that the Bellagio is just like being in Italy, and Caesar’s just like Rome and Paris is just like Paris!
Not.
I so can’t wait to buy the flight, the hotel, the many drinks. However, I now firmly draw the line and announce that there will be no penis straws. I refuse to partake, condone, or witness.
I’m a horrible person. I know this. I love Sis-in-Law. I will survive this, maybe even enjoy parts of it. And it could be worse. I mean, I could be living with her while she does all this planning stuff. Which is to say, I could be my brother. That’s gotta suck.
EDITED TO AMEND - I knew Sis-in-law was a cool person. I knew something was up. This whole BIG WEDDING THING? It's my brother! My brother is the one who wants it. Oh egad! - END EDIT
Oh and P.S. – If I’m ever with a guy for a long period of time, and we decide to have some sort of “commitment ceremony”? The ceremony will be ten minutes. No bridespeople or groomspeople or house-party crapola. Afterwards there will be a large BBQ. Flip-flops are required, and if I decide to go all out, I might rent Bevo for the party – Bevo being the steer that stands at the end of the field during Texas football games. Oh, and of course this goes without saying, but full-bar and free cabs. Now that's a party.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Time Flies...
When I started my new job, the contracts which make up the bulk of my job hadn't been handled by any one full-time. I've spent the last few weeks figuring what contracts we have, which have been started, whose been working on them, and where all the paperwork associated with them is. It's the kind of thing where I could stay until midnight every night and there'd still be plenty to do the next day.
Suffice to say I've been staying as late as I can...that being until I start to worry that the dog needs to be let out and fed. Less time has forced me to prioritize and organize the rest of my life. Lists get written every day and often on the way home I'll stop off to pick something up because there's simply no other time to get it done. As a result, I'm being ridiculously productive outside of my professional endeavors. In fact, I'm getting more done.
The mail gets sorted every night when I get home. The bills get paid immediately. The junk mail goes into the trash or gets shredded. Dinner gets started and trash gets dumped while dinner is cooking. My evenings are scheduled and efficiently carried out up to point of bedtime at 11 pm with thirty minutes of reading. It's go-go-go all day long.
Today, Saturday, has been my first real "free" day since I started working - in the sense that I hadn't scheduled anything - save for a cultural event in the evening, followed by a quick meal afterward. With this in mind, I slept in until ten, took a shower, and decided that I was just going to SIT on the couch and watch TV.
I plopped down and started to tune into This Old House on PBS. Within a few minutes I was anxious, but NO, I was going to SIT. I needed to SIT.
An hour and a half later I'd trimmed my cuticles, filed and polished the nails on my hands and feet, applied face moisturizer, rubbed my legs down with lotion, plucked my eyebrows, flossed my teeth, dusted everything within reach of the couch, and made a mental list of all the things I needed to do when I got up.
Apparently I can sit right now, but sitting still will be an effort for another time.
Suffice to say I've been staying as late as I can...that being until I start to worry that the dog needs to be let out and fed. Less time has forced me to prioritize and organize the rest of my life. Lists get written every day and often on the way home I'll stop off to pick something up because there's simply no other time to get it done. As a result, I'm being ridiculously productive outside of my professional endeavors. In fact, I'm getting more done.
The mail gets sorted every night when I get home. The bills get paid immediately. The junk mail goes into the trash or gets shredded. Dinner gets started and trash gets dumped while dinner is cooking. My evenings are scheduled and efficiently carried out up to point of bedtime at 11 pm with thirty minutes of reading. It's go-go-go all day long.
Today, Saturday, has been my first real "free" day since I started working - in the sense that I hadn't scheduled anything - save for a cultural event in the evening, followed by a quick meal afterward. With this in mind, I slept in until ten, took a shower, and decided that I was just going to SIT on the couch and watch TV.
I plopped down and started to tune into This Old House on PBS. Within a few minutes I was anxious, but NO, I was going to SIT. I needed to SIT.
An hour and a half later I'd trimmed my cuticles, filed and polished the nails on my hands and feet, applied face moisturizer, rubbed my legs down with lotion, plucked my eyebrows, flossed my teeth, dusted everything within reach of the couch, and made a mental list of all the things I needed to do when I got up.
Apparently I can sit right now, but sitting still will be an effort for another time.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
That's what you get for opening your mouth...
A few days ago I was sitting in my Boss’s (whom we will call SC for Senior Counsel) office on a conference call with a partner from outside counsel. SC and Partner were going over contracts while I sat curbside as part of my learning process. A half hour or so into the call, they were struggling with some language and without thinking I said, “What if you phrased it…?”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth I cringed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What possessed me, a licensed attorney of two months with a handful of days on the job, to suggest word choices to a Partner of a major law firm and an in-house counsel with many years experience? SC stopped and scrunched her face as if she were pondering just how to respond to my blunder.
Ohmigosh Ana. You are so going to get in trouble for this one. Apologize. Say something self-deprecating. Backtrack. Do whatever you need to do to get out of this.
Then I noticed that SC was nodding her head, and over the speaker the Partner announced, “That sounds good.”
After the call was over I did apologize, but SC was like, “Not at all. One of the reasons I hired you was because you knew how to write and edit. When you have an idea I would hope you would chime in.”
Awesome.
Of course today when SC and I went over the contracts, instead of laboring word by word, she quickly went through the paragraphs saying, “Rephrase this. Make that mutual. Add a sentence to this about that; and write up a clause here, here, and here. Then give me a final draft to review.”
No pressure there.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth I cringed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What possessed me, a licensed attorney of two months with a handful of days on the job, to suggest word choices to a Partner of a major law firm and an in-house counsel with many years experience? SC stopped and scrunched her face as if she were pondering just how to respond to my blunder.
Ohmigosh Ana. You are so going to get in trouble for this one. Apologize. Say something self-deprecating. Backtrack. Do whatever you need to do to get out of this.
Then I noticed that SC was nodding her head, and over the speaker the Partner announced, “That sounds good.”
After the call was over I did apologize, but SC was like, “Not at all. One of the reasons I hired you was because you knew how to write and edit. When you have an idea I would hope you would chime in.”
Awesome.
Of course today when SC and I went over the contracts, instead of laboring word by word, she quickly went through the paragraphs saying, “Rephrase this. Make that mutual. Add a sentence to this about that; and write up a clause here, here, and here. Then give me a final draft to review.”
No pressure there.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Job Search Update...
A month or so ago, I asked my readers for some advice related to finding a job when you had some options, but maybe not quite the position you were hoping for.
Thanks so much for all the insightful comments. I wasn’t kidding when I listed the different scenarios. Quite a few of them were near true to life. Here’s what I had on my plate at the time:
Job #1 – An interim job while I looked for a position.
This was the job I’d been doing since graduation. For $15/hour I was working at a publishing company editing legal books. The job allowed me to work full-time and provided health insurance. Although it didn’t pay well (and didn't provide compensation for sickness, vacation, or natural disasters) it was understood to be a temporary job, and my company allowed me to take time off at my leisure in order to search for jobs and interview.
Job #2 – A not-so-interim job that didn’t involve practice.
Should I decide to stay at the publishing company, I could take a salaried position as an editor. My hesitancy to do so was twofold. The position utilized my law degree, but I wouldn’t be practicing law. If I changed my mind and decided to practice, I figured the transition would be difficult. Additionally, although the job paid okay, there was little chance that I would ever have the opportunity to make much more money - not normally a big deal, but part of the reason that Isunk $60-to-100k went to law school was for more earning and job growth potential.
Job #3 – A practicing job.
This potential job was the bane of my existence. In early spring, a solo practitioner spoke with me about coming on as her associate. A few weeks later, she asked if I was committed to coming on because she intended to take out a large ad for her firm. I agreed, but when I went to her after the bar, the start date kept getting pushed out. Eventually I began working one day a week and enjoyed the job, but the transition to full-time never quite materialized. To make matters worse, the salary kept dropping. Although I was told in the spring that I could make $60k my first year if I worked hard, the state of the economy caused that figure to be amended in October to $40k plus a percentage of billables. The day after Thanksgiving, the solo prac told me my salary would be between $30-35k with no percentage of billables or health benefits. At the same time, my earliest start date would be sometime in January (if that date held).
Oh, and one more thing. The solo prac was also considering retiring and selling the practice/property. Nothing firm, but maybe. Further contributing to the stress was the fact that I lived on the back part of that property. Essentially, I was (theoretically) being offered a position that didn’t cover my expenses once my student loans kicked in, was substantially less than my salary prior to law law school, and had the added possibility that at any moment I could find myself looking for both a job and a place to live. Still, I debated taking this position because it did offer practice experience and I couldn’t decide which was better – a stable job where I wasn’t practicing or an unstable job that allowed me to get something on my resume.
#3.5 - The informational interview.
In an attempt to network my rear-end off, I cornered an interview with a retired judge who'd sworn me in. I thought maybe she could provide me with some insight on the different possibilities available to a recent graduate.
Job #4 – The part-time student position.
A week or so after the Thanksgiving bombshell, a friend got me an interview for a part-time (25 hours a week), student position in the legal department of an S&P 500 company which occasionally hired their students as in-house counsel after graduation. The downside: I had already graduated; I would lose my health insurance; the pay was still around $15/hour and I wasn’t sure that I could find something else part-time to make up for the hours not worked. Then again, this position could possibly have more potential than any of my other options. AND the job sounded really, really interesting to me. I’d be working on international contracts which rocked because a) I’d taken a ton of international law classes in school and studied abroad, not because I thought it would help with my career, but because I loved it, and b) prior to starting law school, I’d done a lot of work with contracts which is what motivated me to become a lawyer to begin with.
In the middle of all this, I freaked out and called my sister for advice. Though six years younger than me, BabySis has managed her career very well, carefully crafting her way to a lucrative position at a major corporation. I explained to her that when you were first starting out from a middle of the road school with middle of the road grades in a downward economy, you kind of took what you could get. To this BabySis said baloney. There was absolutely no reason why I would be worth less due to the fact that I’d obtained a graduate degree, she insisted. But, but, I didn’t have experience, I told her. BabySis had a comeback for this too, and told me about how one of her old companies hired twenty-two-year-olds out of undergrad at a starting salary around $60k. Of course they don’t have any experience at twenty-two, she said. They pay them for their potential. It’s an investment. You not only have that, but you also have business experience. After that, we emailed my resume back and forth. By the time we were done, the thing looked awesome.
Here’s what happened….
Job #1
Everything stayed the same.
Job #2
I went to my supervisor and expressed interest in the salaried position, asking if it was still available (they’d talked to me about it in May) and if so, would I be under consideration. My supervisor told me he’d put together a meeting with the rest of management to discuss the situation. Forty-eight hours later, the president of the company announced a hiring freeze. I got good feedback, but in the meantime, everyone’s hands were tied.
Job #3
The solo prac twice tried to get me to cover for days when the paralegal was out – once to answer the phones and another time to be at the office (by myself) when a commercial tenant was getting locked-out. (Solo prac didn't like to answer phones, and the lock-out occurred on a day solo prac wanted to be at her beach house.) I declined as I had to work a minimum number of hours at my other job to maintain my health insurance – but also because I hugely resented the request. I felt like I’d been jerked around quite a bit and why should I bend over backwards when I’d received almost no consideration throughout this process. SO I DECIDED TO QUIT. When I gave my notice, the solo prac informed me that a prospective buyer was coming by the next day to look at the property.
Interview #3.5
After explaining to the judge that prior to law school I'd worked as an auditor who did a lot of editing and writing of contracts and that I'd gone to law school in hopes of working on contracts more extensively, she asked me two things: Where did I go to school and What was my class rank. With those two tiny pieces of information, the judge launched into a lecture. The only avenue to writing contracts was to work at a Big Firm for several years and then maybe, possibly, secure an in-house job. As I was an average student from an average school that possibility was impossible, she told me. She suggested that I be more realistic (actually her words were "Get over yourself"), and since I had a background in accounting, maybe I should call up the IRS and see if they might give me an internship of some kind.
Job #4
I was late to the interview…because I couldn’t stop throwing up. (Speaking with the judge the day before didn't help matters.) I’ve heard stories about athletes who get nauseous before big games and lose their lunch, but it’d never happened to me before. On the ride up in the elevator, I managed to pull myself together. Throughout the interview I fought back the urge to blow chunks all over the senior counsel. Everything was going well until the end when I was asked about compensation. In disbelief I heard myself say that if I were to take this job I would need to make about 60% more an hour than what they had in mind in order to cover my expenses and compensate for the lost health insurance.
Riding back down the elevator I revisited the encounter. Had I really told them I needed to make that much more? Oh, Ana, Ana, Ana.
Less than two hours later, I received a call from the senior counsel. Immediately after the interview, she’d gone to visit the VP-General Counsel. After the discussion, they’d decided to create a full-time salaried position for me, offering more money than Job #2 or #3, retirement and health benefits, plus a tentative promise of advancement. Would I be interested in that, she asked.
Oh gee, let me check.
To say that I am thrilled is an understatement. From that moment until the day I started I thought for sure something would go wrong – the funding would fall through or they’d find someone else they liked more. But it came to be. And you know what else? I love the job. I’m excited to go to work every morning and my days fly by. My supervisor is supportive, fair, asks for my input on issues, and provides me with autonomy. The fact that she went to bat for me in the beginning and felt that I had worth makes me respect her immensely. And no billable hours! The work is interesting. I feel productive. Heck, I was there for eight hours on Saturday and enjoyed it.
Oh, and that friend who got my foot in the door? Well, that’s a great story too. You see, a few years ago, I checked the stats of this blog excessively and noticed that someone from a rather large law firm was reading quite regularly. Figuring that it was a smoke-out, I gave a heads-up to my readers and commenters. Mortified, the reader in question sent me a quick email informing me that she was not spying. Rather, she just liked what I had to say. Over time we emailed back and forth, met up a few times for drinks, and eventually became friends. This friend knew the senior counsel and recommended me for the position. Yes, dear readers. If not for writing this blog, I would have never found or received my job.
And that, my friends, is not fiction.
It would appear that sometimes fairy tales do come true.
Now the million dollar question is: is it time to end the blog?
Thanks so much for all the insightful comments. I wasn’t kidding when I listed the different scenarios. Quite a few of them were near true to life. Here’s what I had on my plate at the time:
Job #1 – An interim job while I looked for a position.
This was the job I’d been doing since graduation. For $15/hour I was working at a publishing company editing legal books. The job allowed me to work full-time and provided health insurance. Although it didn’t pay well (and didn't provide compensation for sickness, vacation, or natural disasters) it was understood to be a temporary job, and my company allowed me to take time off at my leisure in order to search for jobs and interview.
Job #2 – A not-so-interim job that didn’t involve practice.
Should I decide to stay at the publishing company, I could take a salaried position as an editor. My hesitancy to do so was twofold. The position utilized my law degree, but I wouldn’t be practicing law. If I changed my mind and decided to practice, I figured the transition would be difficult. Additionally, although the job paid okay, there was little chance that I would ever have the opportunity to make much more money - not normally a big deal, but part of the reason that I
Job #3 – A practicing job.
This potential job was the bane of my existence. In early spring, a solo practitioner spoke with me about coming on as her associate. A few weeks later, she asked if I was committed to coming on because she intended to take out a large ad for her firm. I agreed, but when I went to her after the bar, the start date kept getting pushed out. Eventually I began working one day a week and enjoyed the job, but the transition to full-time never quite materialized. To make matters worse, the salary kept dropping. Although I was told in the spring that I could make $60k my first year if I worked hard, the state of the economy caused that figure to be amended in October to $40k plus a percentage of billables. The day after Thanksgiving, the solo prac told me my salary would be between $30-35k with no percentage of billables or health benefits. At the same time, my earliest start date would be sometime in January (if that date held).
Oh, and one more thing. The solo prac was also considering retiring and selling the practice/property. Nothing firm, but maybe. Further contributing to the stress was the fact that I lived on the back part of that property. Essentially, I was (theoretically) being offered a position that didn’t cover my expenses once my student loans kicked in, was substantially less than my salary prior to law law school, and had the added possibility that at any moment I could find myself looking for both a job and a place to live. Still, I debated taking this position because it did offer practice experience and I couldn’t decide which was better – a stable job where I wasn’t practicing or an unstable job that allowed me to get something on my resume.
#3.5 - The informational interview.
In an attempt to network my rear-end off, I cornered an interview with a retired judge who'd sworn me in. I thought maybe she could provide me with some insight on the different possibilities available to a recent graduate.
Job #4 – The part-time student position.
A week or so after the Thanksgiving bombshell, a friend got me an interview for a part-time (25 hours a week), student position in the legal department of an S&P 500 company which occasionally hired their students as in-house counsel after graduation. The downside: I had already graduated; I would lose my health insurance; the pay was still around $15/hour and I wasn’t sure that I could find something else part-time to make up for the hours not worked. Then again, this position could possibly have more potential than any of my other options. AND the job sounded really, really interesting to me. I’d be working on international contracts which rocked because a) I’d taken a ton of international law classes in school and studied abroad, not because I thought it would help with my career, but because I loved it, and b) prior to starting law school, I’d done a lot of work with contracts which is what motivated me to become a lawyer to begin with.
In the middle of all this, I freaked out and called my sister for advice. Though six years younger than me, BabySis has managed her career very well, carefully crafting her way to a lucrative position at a major corporation. I explained to her that when you were first starting out from a middle of the road school with middle of the road grades in a downward economy, you kind of took what you could get. To this BabySis said baloney. There was absolutely no reason why I would be worth less due to the fact that I’d obtained a graduate degree, she insisted. But, but, I didn’t have experience, I told her. BabySis had a comeback for this too, and told me about how one of her old companies hired twenty-two-year-olds out of undergrad at a starting salary around $60k. Of course they don’t have any experience at twenty-two, she said. They pay them for their potential. It’s an investment. You not only have that, but you also have business experience. After that, we emailed my resume back and forth. By the time we were done, the thing looked awesome.
Here’s what happened….
Job #1
Everything stayed the same.
Job #2
I went to my supervisor and expressed interest in the salaried position, asking if it was still available (they’d talked to me about it in May) and if so, would I be under consideration. My supervisor told me he’d put together a meeting with the rest of management to discuss the situation. Forty-eight hours later, the president of the company announced a hiring freeze. I got good feedback, but in the meantime, everyone’s hands were tied.
Job #3
The solo prac twice tried to get me to cover for days when the paralegal was out – once to answer the phones and another time to be at the office (by myself) when a commercial tenant was getting locked-out. (Solo prac didn't like to answer phones, and the lock-out occurred on a day solo prac wanted to be at her beach house.) I declined as I had to work a minimum number of hours at my other job to maintain my health insurance – but also because I hugely resented the request. I felt like I’d been jerked around quite a bit and why should I bend over backwards when I’d received almost no consideration throughout this process. SO I DECIDED TO QUIT. When I gave my notice, the solo prac informed me that a prospective buyer was coming by the next day to look at the property.
Interview #3.5
After explaining to the judge that prior to law school I'd worked as an auditor who did a lot of editing and writing of contracts and that I'd gone to law school in hopes of working on contracts more extensively, she asked me two things: Where did I go to school and What was my class rank. With those two tiny pieces of information, the judge launched into a lecture. The only avenue to writing contracts was to work at a Big Firm for several years and then maybe, possibly, secure an in-house job. As I was an average student from an average school that possibility was impossible, she told me. She suggested that I be more realistic (actually her words were "Get over yourself"), and since I had a background in accounting, maybe I should call up the IRS and see if they might give me an internship of some kind.
Job #4
I was late to the interview…because I couldn’t stop throwing up. (Speaking with the judge the day before didn't help matters.) I’ve heard stories about athletes who get nauseous before big games and lose their lunch, but it’d never happened to me before. On the ride up in the elevator, I managed to pull myself together. Throughout the interview I fought back the urge to blow chunks all over the senior counsel. Everything was going well until the end when I was asked about compensation. In disbelief I heard myself say that if I were to take this job I would need to make about 60% more an hour than what they had in mind in order to cover my expenses and compensate for the lost health insurance.
Riding back down the elevator I revisited the encounter. Had I really told them I needed to make that much more? Oh, Ana, Ana, Ana.
Less than two hours later, I received a call from the senior counsel. Immediately after the interview, she’d gone to visit the VP-General Counsel. After the discussion, they’d decided to create a full-time salaried position for me, offering more money than Job #2 or #3, retirement and health benefits, plus a tentative promise of advancement. Would I be interested in that, she asked.
Oh gee, let me check.
To say that I am thrilled is an understatement. From that moment until the day I started I thought for sure something would go wrong – the funding would fall through or they’d find someone else they liked more. But it came to be. And you know what else? I love the job. I’m excited to go to work every morning and my days fly by. My supervisor is supportive, fair, asks for my input on issues, and provides me with autonomy. The fact that she went to bat for me in the beginning and felt that I had worth makes me respect her immensely. And no billable hours! The work is interesting. I feel productive. Heck, I was there for eight hours on Saturday and enjoyed it.
Oh, and that friend who got my foot in the door? Well, that’s a great story too. You see, a few years ago, I checked the stats of this blog excessively and noticed that someone from a rather large law firm was reading quite regularly. Figuring that it was a smoke-out, I gave a heads-up to my readers and commenters. Mortified, the reader in question sent me a quick email informing me that she was not spying. Rather, she just liked what I had to say. Over time we emailed back and forth, met up a few times for drinks, and eventually became friends. This friend knew the senior counsel and recommended me for the position. Yes, dear readers. If not for writing this blog, I would have never found or received my job.
And that, my friends, is not fiction.
It would appear that sometimes fairy tales do come true.
Now the million dollar question is: is it time to end the blog?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Fat tires...
Today was a gorgeous day – 78 degrees and sunny. I threw open all of the windows and walked around in a tank top and shorts. If I ever leave the state, it will only be in order to get closer to the equator.
On detail today was closet-clean-out. I wasn’t sure if I would find anything given that I cleaned the thing out after the bar, but I did come up with a few items.
That’s a decent stack, right?
Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any shoes. Before I moved from Austin I had this rule that whenever I bought a clothing item, I had to get rid of a similar item in my closet. As you know, I bought two pairs of shoes before the holiday so I should have junked two today. Didn’t happen, but at least I managed to make some space for the clothes my sister gave me for Xmas.
The good news is, I have a ton of shoes and clothes related to “professional attire.” I imagine that after I start working a real job, I will buy a few new items and get rid of most of the rest. Everything work related in my closet is at least four years old and hasn’t been worn in about that long. Until I’m working I won’t know what I might use so I’m afraid to dump any of it – especially since I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford new clothes for awhile.
Oh, and while cleaning out my closet I found another New Year’s resolution. I want to be able to fit into these jeans.
They’re Gap Slim Fits, Size 1 and I loved them.
Technically, I can still get into them, but I don’t like the way they look. Mostly, I think the minor weight gain is just a result of getting older and my metabolism slowing down a little bit, but eeek, my tummy just frightens me.
Growing up, I always had to worry about my hips and thighs, but never my stomach. Thank goodness I’m not a celebrity – every other week I’d be pictured on the front of a tabloid with the words, “Is Ana pregnant? That looks like a baby bump!” Only if I'm having a food baby.
Ok, I know. They’re not that bad, but here’s what I looked like in them four years ago.
Five pounds, here we come. Yep, all that is just five pounds! Five pounds make a big difference on a midget, but are also darn near impossible to lose.
(And yes, my handmade red cowboy boots are pretty awesome. LagLiv - They're Old Gringo, and I got them at Allen's Boots on South Congress if you find yourself in need of a pair.)
On detail today was closet-clean-out. I wasn’t sure if I would find anything given that I cleaned the thing out after the bar, but I did come up with a few items.
That’s a decent stack, right?
Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any shoes. Before I moved from Austin I had this rule that whenever I bought a clothing item, I had to get rid of a similar item in my closet. As you know, I bought two pairs of shoes before the holiday so I should have junked two today. Didn’t happen, but at least I managed to make some space for the clothes my sister gave me for Xmas.
The good news is, I have a ton of shoes and clothes related to “professional attire.” I imagine that after I start working a real job, I will buy a few new items and get rid of most of the rest. Everything work related in my closet is at least four years old and hasn’t been worn in about that long. Until I’m working I won’t know what I might use so I’m afraid to dump any of it – especially since I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford new clothes for awhile.
Oh, and while cleaning out my closet I found another New Year’s resolution. I want to be able to fit into these jeans.
They’re Gap Slim Fits, Size 1 and I loved them.
Technically, I can still get into them, but I don’t like the way they look. Mostly, I think the minor weight gain is just a result of getting older and my metabolism slowing down a little bit, but eeek, my tummy just frightens me.
Growing up, I always had to worry about my hips and thighs, but never my stomach. Thank goodness I’m not a celebrity – every other week I’d be pictured on the front of a tabloid with the words, “Is Ana pregnant? That looks like a baby bump!” Only if I'm having a food baby.
Ok, I know. They’re not that bad, but here’s what I looked like in them four years ago.
Five pounds, here we come. Yep, all that is just five pounds! Five pounds make a big difference on a midget, but are also darn near impossible to lose.
(And yes, my handmade red cowboy boots are pretty awesome. LagLiv - They're Old Gringo, and I got them at Allen's Boots on South Congress if you find yourself in need of a pair.)
Promise me we won't go into the night club*...
Bear with me, I’m trying to get back into the swing of blogging regularly – a new year’s resolution if you will. However, since I’m not used to it, my posts might be a little boring for awhile.
In deference to my no more than two drinks a day resolution, I’ve created a new rule of no drinking at home. This way, if someone calls me to go out later in the evening, I won’t find myself staring at an empty glass of wine saying, “I can’t.” This is my third night and while today it’s just fine, the first two nights were kind of brutal. With my little wine cube I’d really gotten into the habit of coming home, walking the dog, and pouring myself a glass. Sometimes it was just the one; other times it was four-to-six.
I didn’t think much about it until the day I left Seattle. My Dad and I were on one of our cherished morning trips to the coffee shop when he pulled me aside to ask about my drinking. If a few years ago my parents had said anything about my drinking I think I would have gotten defensive and told them it was none of their business. But I must be getting older because I felt really bad. My dad’s mother died of cirrhosis, and I was genuinely horrified that I might be causing him concern.
I played it off, telling him that I was drinking more because it was ‘vacation,’ but truly I have been drinking A LOT more lately. There are lots of reasons: money’s been tight and sitting at home with a box of wine is cheap. Graduation was stressful. The bar was stressful. Waiting for bar results was stressful. The hurricane and its aftermath were stressful. Boy drank a ton, and I usually just drank along with him. Breaking up with Boy was stressful. Looking for a job is stressful. Having jobs fall through was stressful. Having no money is stressful.
Looking back, over the past five months or so, I’ve probably been legally drunk four-five nights out of the week. ( I differentiate between legally-drunk and plain ol' drunk. Legally, I'm drunk after one glass. I don't actually get drunk until about glass four. And other people can't tell until about glass six.)
That’s scary.
So, I promised my Dad I’d slow down, and he said not to do it on his account, but I was like, “No, really. It’s no problem. I’ll do it.”
So I did, or at least I have for the past three days, and I intend to keep my promise to him. It works well for both of us. Of course, I tell you on the heels of this that I have brunch tomorrow with the girls. I’ve already thought about it, and decided I can allow myself up to three because the mimosas are seriously like 3 ounces a pop. They are 50 cent-mimosas, after all! (And yes, I’m just including that last line in case I have three tomorrow and Wine-Time-Girl is like, “Didn’t you say on your blog that you were only drinking two a day?” Really, they’re VERY small!)
*Post title is from one of my fave songs - Light Enough to Travel by the Be Good Tanyas. I would youtube them here, but there aren't any acoustic versions of the song on there.
In deference to my no more than two drinks a day resolution, I’ve created a new rule of no drinking at home. This way, if someone calls me to go out later in the evening, I won’t find myself staring at an empty glass of wine saying, “I can’t.” This is my third night and while today it’s just fine, the first two nights were kind of brutal. With my little wine cube I’d really gotten into the habit of coming home, walking the dog, and pouring myself a glass. Sometimes it was just the one; other times it was four-to-six.
I didn’t think much about it until the day I left Seattle. My Dad and I were on one of our cherished morning trips to the coffee shop when he pulled me aside to ask about my drinking. If a few years ago my parents had said anything about my drinking I think I would have gotten defensive and told them it was none of their business. But I must be getting older because I felt really bad. My dad’s mother died of cirrhosis, and I was genuinely horrified that I might be causing him concern.
I played it off, telling him that I was drinking more because it was ‘vacation,’ but truly I have been drinking A LOT more lately. There are lots of reasons: money’s been tight and sitting at home with a box of wine is cheap. Graduation was stressful. The bar was stressful. Waiting for bar results was stressful. The hurricane and its aftermath were stressful. Boy drank a ton, and I usually just drank along with him. Breaking up with Boy was stressful. Looking for a job is stressful. Having jobs fall through was stressful. Having no money is stressful.
Looking back, over the past five months or so, I’ve probably been legally drunk four-five nights out of the week. ( I differentiate between legally-drunk and plain ol' drunk. Legally, I'm drunk after one glass. I don't actually get drunk until about glass four. And other people can't tell until about glass six.)
That’s scary.
So, I promised my Dad I’d slow down, and he said not to do it on his account, but I was like, “No, really. It’s no problem. I’ll do it.”
So I did, or at least I have for the past three days, and I intend to keep my promise to him. It works well for both of us. Of course, I tell you on the heels of this that I have brunch tomorrow with the girls. I’ve already thought about it, and decided I can allow myself up to three because the mimosas are seriously like 3 ounces a pop. They are 50 cent-mimosas, after all! (And yes, I’m just including that last line in case I have three tomorrow and Wine-Time-Girl is like, “Didn’t you say on your blog that you were only drinking two a day?” Really, they’re VERY small!)
*Post title is from one of my fave songs - Light Enough to Travel by the Be Good Tanyas. I would youtube them here, but there aren't any acoustic versions of the song on there.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Who wants a happy post devoid of TMI?!?!?
Holiday season in Seattle was fun.
Have I ever told you how Sea-Tac Airport is the American version of deGaulle? Yeah, it is. Actually Seattle in general is one of those towns that you think is so cool and it's really green (like environmentally) and then the more time you spend there, you realize that it's not the most efficient city in the world...and probably not terribly cost-effective either.
BabySis warned me not to check a bag because Sea-Tac was operating more slowly than usual. Quite a few flights out had been cancelled due to a snow storm, and there was this small issue of Sea-Tac collecting everyone's luggage before the cancellations, but then having much difficulty in returning them to their owners. By the time I arrived, Sea-Tac had found the luggage, but the passengers were long gone.
I managed to find my bag just before baggage claim was declared a fire hazard.
Then on the drive home, there were certain roads covered in snow. Turns out Seattle thinks that salt is harmful for the environment and snow-plowing is bad for the roads. They had thrown some sand down, but it wasn't doing too much. The next day there was an editorial in the paper discussing how sand is actually worse for the environment than salt. As it stood, most of the downtown streets were covered in snow and hardly accessible. Maybe Seattle will change their mind once they figure out how much sales tax they lost from no one being able to do downtown shopping in the days before Xmas.
Anyway, we had a white christmas (and I had a white hanukkah). We decided that I'd just wait and open my presents with everyone else on the 25th. (Actually, that's not true; I tried working the Hanukkah angle so that I could open them early.)
Best Gift of the Day: Big Brother and Sis-In-Common-Law got engaged!
[This is the spot where I tell you that I managed to take pictures of the luggage, but not SICL's ring. Take my word for it; it's pretty.]
Anyhoo, I'm so happy and excited for them! It's very cool - although I don't think they're planning on having a the wedding anytime soon. They've been dating for five years. Maybe they'll be engaged for a few more.
And ME?
I got SO spoiled by BabySis! Oh, and she 'themed' my gifts. Check out my loot!
This is my 'Foot in the Door' doorstop - a professional black pump.
Pens - with silly phrases - so people won't steal them.
Silk laptop case with matching business card holder...
And wax seal pendant that reads Never Despair in Latin, plus has an arm with a sword for courage in battle.
Aren't they so sweet? She made me a little good luck in your job search set!
And then just for fun she gave me these little silver earrings
And a sweater purse!
She also gave me a little derby hat and bought out portions of Anthropologie and Urban Outfitter. When I asked her why, she said I was easy to shop for.
Sniff. My siblings have been pretty good to me over these past few months. One day I hope to return the kindnesses!
Have I ever told you how Sea-Tac Airport is the American version of deGaulle? Yeah, it is. Actually Seattle in general is one of those towns that you think is so cool and it's really green (like environmentally) and then the more time you spend there, you realize that it's not the most efficient city in the world...and probably not terribly cost-effective either.
BabySis warned me not to check a bag because Sea-Tac was operating more slowly than usual. Quite a few flights out had been cancelled due to a snow storm, and there was this small issue of Sea-Tac collecting everyone's luggage before the cancellations, but then having much difficulty in returning them to their owners. By the time I arrived, Sea-Tac had found the luggage, but the passengers were long gone.
I managed to find my bag just before baggage claim was declared a fire hazard.
Then on the drive home, there were certain roads covered in snow. Turns out Seattle thinks that salt is harmful for the environment and snow-plowing is bad for the roads. They had thrown some sand down, but it wasn't doing too much. The next day there was an editorial in the paper discussing how sand is actually worse for the environment than salt. As it stood, most of the downtown streets were covered in snow and hardly accessible. Maybe Seattle will change their mind once they figure out how much sales tax they lost from no one being able to do downtown shopping in the days before Xmas.
Anyway, we had a white christmas (and I had a white hanukkah). We decided that I'd just wait and open my presents with everyone else on the 25th. (Actually, that's not true; I tried working the Hanukkah angle so that I could open them early.)
Best Gift of the Day: Big Brother and Sis-In-Common-Law got engaged!
[This is the spot where I tell you that I managed to take pictures of the luggage, but not SICL's ring. Take my word for it; it's pretty.]
Anyhoo, I'm so happy and excited for them! It's very cool - although I don't think they're planning on having a the wedding anytime soon. They've been dating for five years. Maybe they'll be engaged for a few more.
And ME?
I got SO spoiled by BabySis! Oh, and she 'themed' my gifts. Check out my loot!
This is my 'Foot in the Door' doorstop - a professional black pump.
Pens - with silly phrases - so people won't steal them.
Silk laptop case with matching business card holder...
And wax seal pendant that reads Never Despair in Latin, plus has an arm with a sword for courage in battle.
Aren't they so sweet? She made me a little good luck in your job search set!
And then just for fun she gave me these little silver earrings
And a sweater purse!
She also gave me a little derby hat and bought out portions of Anthropologie and Urban Outfitter. When I asked her why, she said I was easy to shop for.
Sniff. My siblings have been pretty good to me over these past few months. One day I hope to return the kindnesses!
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