Happy 4th!

Happy Independence Day, dear readers!

To get you in the spirit, here are some pics that my dad sent me today.

They're of my mother, circa 1971, newly expecting her first child and taking in the sights of New York City.


I love how her hair is long and somewhat unruly in this picture.



Inside the crown of Lady Liberty - which I hear has just been reopened this year. She looks almost like a model in this shot. I can't quite recall what I looked like at twenty-four (her age at the time), but I can almost certainly tell you that I was much less put-together or classically "all-American" looking. Well, unless you consider Jan*is Jop*lin-like hair all-American. Sometimes I look at pictures of Jan*is and wonder if my grandfather, while working in Port Arthur for Sinclair Oil, didn't have an affair.

No really; I'm an altruist...

Whenever I talk about work (and believe me, I speak of it vaguely as I should) CDP always turns to me and says, “You should really see ‘such-and-such’ movie. It deals with the same kind of thing.”

I just tried to remember the name of the movie, but I can only recall that George Clooney is in it. I’ve narrowed it down to Michael Clayton and Syriana, but what really disturbs me is knowing that what I do might possibly apply to either.

Update: I just watched Michael Clayton and it is definitely not that one. Then I read the premise for Syriana, and that's definitely the one, but in a non-shady way.

Nostalgia and Comfortable Shoes...

Despite our gender differences my brother and I wore the same kind of shoes until the age of five.

They looked like this:


My mom called them our Christopher Robin shoes and I had pairs in navy and red while my brother had navy and white. (I’d never seen them in brown before I stole this picture off the interwebs.)

Today the memory of my Christopher Robins popped into my head, and I started to think of how versatile they were. The leather shoes with a hard rubber sole could be worn with shorts, dresses, jeans, you name it, AND they were comfy to boot. With this thought I scoured the internet for a grown-up-sized pair in brown, but came up empty. You would think *maybe* Clark’s or Born or the like would have something similar, but NOTHING.

So dear readers, if in any of your shoe-shopping escapades you come across something similar to the picture above (in adult sizes), will you send the store name, brand name, shoe name, link, or etc. my way? All I managed to find today was their real name: English Sandals.

Hey Gen-Xers!

For those of you who are interested in revisiting your early post-college years, an apartment from the building used in Reality Bites is up for lease. (Click the "up for lease" to see it.) Window units and no designated parking, but hey, 850 square feet isn't bad for that price and a little piece of history.

And as a bonus, you'll be less than a mile from yours truly - who judging by her location has not completely abandoned her post-college lifestyle either. Give me some credit - it's not like I still have a roommate at 34. And just in the last six months I've stopped dating guys like Troy - for now at least.

All that and classy, too!

Because I’m environmentally responsible, I resell my old books online when I’m done with them.

Because I’m environmentally responsible, I package all of my used books in used brown bags.

Because I’m environmentally responsible, I typically use canvas bags when I grocery shop.

Because of all that, I just mailed a book of religious essays that analyze the Torah in a brown bag that has a huge advertisement for a liquor store on its front.

L’Chaim!

How a Computer Sees you as Seeing Yourself...

If you click on myAmazon while logged in, it gives you a listing of the different categories that it thinks applies to you based on what you’ve viewed and purchased. At first I thought the larger fonts meant items you would more likely be interested in. In reality, the more suggestions in an area, the bigger the font.

So here are mine…(broken out by font size from largest to smallest)

New & Used Textbooks (thank law school for this one)
Singer-Songwriters

Adult Alternative (the catch-all phrase for music not easily categorized)

Literature & Fiction

Humanities

Philosophy
Modern

Short Stories
Contemporary Folk
Literature
Law

Social Sciences
Folk Rock
Existentialism

Alt-Country & Americana

Science Fiction (this must be what happens when you combine purchases of Vonnegut and Borges)
Procedures & Litigation
Fiction
Camus, Albert (I love that he got his own category.)
German (This one really confused me until I clicked on it, and it was all books by Kafka and Nietzsche.)
Formats
Criticism
Phenomenology

Consciousness & Thought
Arts & Literature
Comic (movies)
Courts
Europe
History & Surveys
Holocaust
Movie Tie-Ins
Music
Psychology
Russian
Turkey
Action & Adventure (again, movies)
Drama (and movies)
Essays
Fantasy
Jurisprudence
Kafka, Franz
Politics
Metaphysics

Epistemoliogy
Lo-fi


So what do you think? Is it accurate? How does Amazon see you?

Compartmentalizing has never been my thing...

This whole unexpected move thing has sent me into a tizzy. Random bills are piling up in various areas of my apartment and a few are stashed in my purse. The house feels like an obstacle course because even though I’ve probably packed less than a quarter of my things, the few boxes I do have are taking up all my extra floor space. The little area where I usually drop my keys, mail, and everything else of importance has been replaced with a dishpak, and I can’t seem to pick a new place to put it all – which is how I end up hunting for my keys every time I want to leave the house.

I’ve got a million things running through my mind – I still need to call movers, set up new utilities, ask the new landlord for last minute modifications to the apartment. The other day I absent-mindedly knocked over a glass of water…right onto the keyboard of my laptop. Because I’ve done this before and know that an electric current mixed with water will fry the motherboard, I quickly turned off the computer, flipped it over, and happily went about my evening, proud of myself for responding so quickly and efficiently. At 1:30 in the morning I realized that I’d forgotten something. In all of my swooshing movements, I failed to do one key thing – I didn’t unplug the computer from the A/C adapter. Frantically, I pushed the power button. Nothing. RIP, little laptop.

Normally, I think I would have flipped out, but instead, I just tossed the laptop into a corner, one more thing that would have to be dealt with after the move. There was no point in crying. I don’t have the money for a new laptop right now, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’ll just think about it tomorrow. No doubt I’ll just be thrilled if it turns out that I can retrieve some semblance of the hard drive.

What I hate the most about this is the stress. At work I think about all of things that need to be done at home. When I come home, I remember all the things that I didn’t do at work. And then there's the new guy. I feel like I should be spending time with him, but then get angry at myself after an evening together when I return home to a ransacked house and a yelping dog. I said to hell with everything this week, started smoking again, and picked up a Wine Cube at Target. Stress has the weird effect of making me super tired, combined with the inability to fall asleep at night because for some reason, the wee hours of the morning are when everything needing to be done in every aspect of my life comes rushing to my brain.

This morning I was running late, and got dressed while I was waiting for my rollers to heat up and my coffee to brew. I ran the dog outside and smartly, thinking ahead, put on a pair of flip-flops so that my heels wouldn’t sink into the grass and get muddy. I was literally inside my office building before I realized that I never took the flip-flops off.

Once the move has been made, I know that mentally I feel just fine. Everything will be complete. Sure, stuff will need to be unpacked, bills will be rolling in, and I’ll probably be running around like a chicken with my head cut off, but I think getting everything over to this new house will just make me *feel* more relaxed. And even though as each day gets marked off the calendar and the anxiety grows that I will never get everything done that needs to be done in the next two weeks, it can’t get here fast enough.

Drives home, Greek Letters, and Nostalgia...

Back when I lived in Austin, every other car had a three-inch high sticker of Greek letters on the back window announcing the driver’s fraternal affiliation. Here in Houston, I don’t see them so often, so when the car of front of me on the way home from work today had them I took notice. It was a few seconds before I made out the letters Mu Alpha Theta and proceeded to laugh out loud.

Mu Alpha Theta, for those whose memories are groggy, is a high school math honors group.

I was not in Mu Alpha Theta in high school. I was in National Honor’s Society, but even then, it wasn’t on my own merit.

You see, at my high school NHS made up the highest X% (I don’t remember the exact percentage) of the class. Year after year, the cut-off always turned out to be a 3.67 GPA. My Junior year I missed the cut by a slice and worked hard to get my average up. When induction time came around my Senior year, I’d reached 3.67, but for the first time ever that GPA wasn’t good enough. It was close. Four slots in the class away to be exact.

I remember moaning to my BFF (ok crying, who am I kidding) about barely missing the mark and how this would effect my college admissions because even though NHS wouldn’t be a big deal to the person reading my application, they might notice its auspicious absence. And not only that, but it was SO UNFAIR. My high school had only recently begun to give extra weight to honors classes, and there were people above me in rank who’d only ever enrolled in level two’s. PLUS (!), with the exception of our class valedictorian, I was the only person in our class to enroll in all (honors) Sophomore classes my Freshman year. I’d been ripped off. I was screwed. Life hated me!

The morning that NHS invitations were being handed out in homeroom, I came to class feeling slightly nauseous. I even considered skipping that day. You can imagine my surprise when I found an invitation on my desk. After receiving it I tracked down the NHS president because, honest to a fault at that stage in life, I was sure a mistake had been made.

No, there was no mistake, she assured me with a wink. A 3.67 was always in the top X%, right?

This is the part where I tell you that the president of NHS was none other than my high school BFF.

Yes, even back then, much of your success in life depended on who you knew.

That year, I kicked butt, graduated well within the top X% and nobody was ever any wiser. After invitation day, the BFF and I never spoke of the incident again.

As it turns out, my entry into NHS was unnecessary for undergrad. The school I ended up attending asked for only my transcript and my SAT score. Actually, to be perfectly honest, they sent me a pre-filled out admission form and all I had to do was sign my name. (Remember that the next time you see the U.S. News ranking of the UTexas undergrad business program (which was similarly ranked when I enrolled)…along with the fact that I applied as an out-of-state student…in the last rolling admission cycle. Highly selective, my tushy. The U.S. News rankings are such baloney.)

Despite all of this, I’m still probably the proudest member of NHS, if only for the story of kindness behind it.

And what of the BFF? She now practices BigLaw in New York, has a really nice husband and a super-cute kid, and sends me wonderful photos of her trips to Europe.

And just because the high school BFF referenced the awesome t-shirts in the comments...

(I am obviously Louise. No doubt I'm turned sideways because I'm making some wisecrack to Thelma, my partner in crime.)

My "high-powered" career...

Often when I tell people that my line of work is International Trade they ooh and aah. Frequently, this is followed by the glowing question of, “Will you ever get to travel for work?”

I will shrug and say that it’s probably inevitable, but in reality my answer is, “DEAR GOD, I HOPE NOT!”

International Trade, though it sounds glamorous…is not. I think when people hear the word international they think of Paris and London and I don’t know, Brussels? International Trade, to be economically efficient, occurs in areas of the world where things are either cheap or unindustrialized with an abundance of natural resources. To be honest, it usually involves both.

(Let's just simmer on that thought for a moment.)

Working in International Trade involves spending three hours on a conference call or five days of emails discussing in item that would normally take ten minutes – if you and the person you were conversing with spoke the same language. Any attorney who works in International Trade and uses polysyllabic words between 8-5 (or 3 am or 8 pm or whenever the other side of the world is awake) is just asking for trouble.

To sum it up, it ain’t pretty.

The other day I received a proposal for a shipping company, not uncommon in my line of work. However, unlike the basic written proposal describing services, this one involved pictures, and can I tell you, it revealed International Trade in a way that words just can’t.


Sexy, isn’t it?
So yeah, think about that the next time someone tells you that they've got a conference call in Asia or Russia or some other 'exotic' location.

This is what a study abroad program in law school will do for your career.

PS - And for those of you who were wondering, I’m doing the dirty hippie portion of International Trade - believe it or not...which is to say, I'm doing work that is actually good and allows me to a) sleep at night, and b) look myself in the mirror the next morning.

PPS - All that being said, I love my job. Dude, when was the last time you had a conference call with a country you can't even pronounce?

We're a little different...

CDP: Yeah, I’m just going to fall back on the ‘I think, therefore I am’ theory.
Ana: But what if you just think that you’re thinking?
CDP: Then I’m thinking, ergo…
Ana: NO! I mean, like the whole Breakfast of Champions thing.
CDP: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Ana: Like in Breakfast of Champions, there’s the Creator of the Universe and he writes and creates EVERYTHING. Even people’s thoughts. I mean, we could just be characters in a novel, the product of someone’s imagination.
CDP:Ana?
Ana: And you’re a pretty generic personality, all Type A and neurotic and stuff. You’d be an easy character to write.
CDP: Are you calling me common?
Ana: Absolutely!
CDP: But you’re not?
Ana: I am totally generic in a different way. All human beings are generic.
CDP: Again, I think, therefore I am.
Ana: All I’m saying is, I hope my character is interesting enough for a bestseller.
CDP: I think you’re drunk.
Ana: Don’t judge me for it. I’m not an alcoholic. I’m just written that way.

Times are changing; get with the program…

Someone on my friend list for Facebook posted this article tonight.

In it, the woman author whines about not being to have it all, all being career and kid. She drones on about having to wait until you find the right husband, work your way up the corporate ladder, and gain a comfortable lifestyle, along the unfairness of taking years off without being unable to jump right back into a career and the fact that a woman’s fertility dictates that we should have children in our twenties.

Hello? Time to think outside the box, my friend.

This woman seems to want all of the liberation, but none of the trade-offs. She wants to be corporate powered career woman along with traditional stay at home mom. I know as a single, childless person I’ll probably get slammed for this, but hey, I’m an old lady now (at least fertility-wise) and here’s my opinion.

Women can work now. We have a ton more options than forty years ago. So take advantage of that...

First, the author refers to finding Mr. Right Enough – the man she marries. Who says that the guy who ultimately ends up being your lifelong companion also needs to be the father of your children? While I haven’t found Mr. Right Enough, there are plenty of guys I’ve known and dated that I wouldn’t mind splicing genes with. Newsflash: you can have children out of wedlock now. You won’t be stoned or have to wear a scarlet letter. You can make a choice.

Second, who says that you have to be making a ton of money and pay off all of your debt before you have a kid? My parents were dirt poor when they had me and my brother. They made certain sacrifices in regards to location, cars, and other material objects, but they survived, and today they’re just fine financially. Sure, my siblings and I didn’t attend private schools or receive a Mercedes on our sixteenth birthdays, but we were pretty comfortable, and we’ve all turned out to be productive members of society.

In conjunction with one and two, there were plenty of times where I honestly considered having a kid with someone I knew I didn’t want to be with over the long haul. As it turns out, I wanted to be a goof-off during my twenties. I didn’t want the responsibility of raising a child, but I never thought that I wouldn’t be able to do it if I did, and if I’d applied myself just a little bit more and cleared $60k a year at all during my 20’s, I might have done it. As soon as I came to law school I started lining up babysitters, surrogate fathers, and stand-in daddies – just in case. (This is where I admit to seriously considering becoming pregnant at the end of my first year in law school.)

Third, who says that you have to stay at home in order to raise a well-adjusted kid? If you’re me, then your child is probably better off being introduced to a wide variety of caretakers other than their parent. It takes a village. Daycare will not kill your child. A nanny will not ruin your child. Don't be selfish. Want to keep moving towards that career? Don’t quit your job! When have you ever heard of a guy taking five years off and then being affronted to find that he can’t jump right back into his career field of choice? There are options. Many jobs today allow for telecommuting – at least to a certain extent. You can be home part of the time, hire someone to help around the house and with the kids and still get things done. Or you can *gasp!* send your child to daycare, after-school programs, etc.

There are ways to get it done, but you have to take the good with (societal) bad. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I should have done it differently. I don’t just admire ladies like New Duck, PBB, LagLiv, or Magic Cookie (and PT-Law Mom, Zuska, and Butterflyfish to some extent (in this respect; of course I admire all of these women in general(!))). I think they’re smart for doing things the way they did. And I feel a little better knowing that they’re raising the next generation AND steering the legal/corporate/career realm.

Now buck up little campers and go kick some ass while you change the world.

Comments?

The Small Stuff...

A few weeks ago, the new guy and I bought tickets to what looked like a fun fundraiser. The Hermann Park Conservancy was throwing a progressive dinner in the park, but instead of driving from place to place, participants got to each stop on the kiddie train. We joked about what we would wear, him a seersucker suit and bow tie, me a big straw hat and sunglasses.

“Oh you would look so cute in a bow tie!” I said.

Of course, new guy didn’t have a bow tie, much less even know how to tie one, and he said he’d look like Orville Reddenbacher wearing one, but we weren’t being serious.

Last week was a mess. Besides the landlord drama, work projects were nonstop. I felt guilty leaving each night in order to make it home in time to walk the dog, feed her, lock her back up, and run out the door to make an appointment. Every night there was inevitably a second appointment to which I was late, followed by food or an errand, followed by catching up with the guy my dad refers to as CDP (current dating person). Most nights I finally made it home between 11 pm – 12 am.

Friday I locked myself in my house, exhausted, but the phone kept ringing and I felt bad for refusing to meet up with all the people that I hadn’t seen that week. Saturday rolled around, and I still felt stressed out. Martha had a vet appointment that put me back $200. My refrigerator hadn’t been stocked in weeks. Laundry needed to be done. On top of everything else, I wanted to make some plans in regards to the upcoming move – get packing paper, make a plan of attack for the change of utilities, figure out furniture arrangement.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to the fundraiser that evening. Secretly I tried to come up with a way to get out it, but as the tix were $75 a person, I figured that I would just have to suck it up, be polite, and then call it an early night. Around 4 pm CDP called and I groaned because I still had a ton of things to do which including showering, walking the dog, and figuring out what to wear to a outdoor party in 100 degree weather.

“I’m ready to go,” he said.

“Really?” I said somewhat flustered, “the event doesn’t start for two hours!?!”

I mean, what was he thinking?

“Well, I started getting dressed two hours ago because I wanted to make sure that I had time to figure out how to tie a bowtie.”

“You got a bowtie?!?!” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I knew you’d like it.”

And with that, I didn’t feel so tired anymore. I didn’t feel stressed. I just felt excited about the party that night, and we had a blast.


It's been really nice getting to know this one.

Ding-dong, Drama-Llama Calling...

So, I mentioned earlier that I might be looking for a new apartment. Here’s the deal. My landlord put my house up for sale, and she did so without letting me know that it had been done. I found out last week when her paralegal called to tell me to leave my security alarm off because the house was being shown the next day.

My lease expired a few months ago, and I’d been going month-to-month. I replied to the paralegal that I wanted an extension on my lease until next June to prevent me from having to move out suddenly. I also requested that someone from the office accompany the prospective buyer in my house when it was being shown (as the place was not vacant when I first looked at it four years ago, and all the landlord did was unlock the front door and walk back into her office).

At first I thought that I’d just stay in the apartment until it sold, but when I didn’t hear back anything affirmative about a new lease and the paralegal replied that she didn’t intend to accompany the prospective buyer, I thought it might be time to look for a new place. June is the best month to look for an apartment because there is so much on the market right now, and when I thought about it, I didn’t know how much I’d like the fact that some random stranger could be waltzing through my house at any time, that I had no idea what my new landlord might be like, and that the property was being placed for sale along with two adjoining properties (i.e., as a tear down).

Over the weekend I drove around town looking for FOR RENT signs and scanning listings on both Craigslist and the realty sites. I looked at about fifteen different places. All of them seemed more expensive, smaller, and a little more run down than my own. Sunday evening I found one place that looked promising online, but seemed a wee bit on the expensive side. Still, I made an appointment to see it Monday evening.

When I got home from work on Monday I ran into my landlord who told me she’d be willing to extend my lease. I was on my way out the door to see the new apartment and decided to go ahead and do it. Turns out I loved the new place. However, I was still uncertain about the price and wanted to think it over. To buy myself a little time, I filled out an application and paid a $35 processing fee. I figured that would give me a few days to come to a conclusion. When I left the apartment I asked the prospective new landlord to wait on calling my current landlord until the following afternoon. I knew he needed to check the rental history, but because I’d rented from this woman for four years, I thought it would be courteous to let her know what was going on before she received the call out of the blue.

Here’s what ensued:

-----Original Message-----
From: Ana
Sent: Tuesday, 9:53 AM
To: Landlord
Subject: Apartment

Hi Landlord,

I wanted to let you know that because I wasn't sure about the lease situation I looked at apartments this weekend and made appointments this week to view a few. Last night I had an appt at 6 and went ahead to it because the owner had called me on the drive home to make sure that I was still going to show up. Anyway, I really liked it and ended up putting in an application.

I wanted to let you know because the owner will likely be calling today to check on my rental history, and I wanted to let you know before that happened.

As I've mentioned many times before, I have really loved living in the garage apartment. I would continue to stay there except that I am just not sure how comfortable I would be with the apartment always being available to be shown and the possibility of a change of ownership at any time.

This is not a notice as my application has not been reviewed and I have not made a deposit, but again, I just wanted to give you a heads up. I will try to stop by the office later this week to go over the notice/move-out formalities with you.

Thanks again,
Ana

On Tue, at 10:53 AM, Landlord wrote:

Ana, No problem, thanks for letting me know. The guy who made the appointment to view didn't even show up. I'm not very hopeful of a sale but I thought I'd test the waters as it were. I'm sorry it lost you as a tenant. I'm happy to renew your lease, but, whatever.

I've put out a FOR RENT sign and will let you know of any appointments to see the apartment.
Landlord

-----Original Message-----
From: Ana
Sent: Tuesday, 1:01 AM
To: Landlord
Subject: Re: Apartment

Oh, well since I haven't formally given notice yet, I'd prefer not to put a sign out since I'm not even 100% positive that I am moving out. I just didn't want you to be caught off guard when you got a phone call from the prospective landlord.

On Tue, at 11:14 AM, Landlord wrote:

I'm sure you won't have any problem being accepted. Of course I'll give you a perfect referral.

-----Original Message-----
From: Ana
Sent: Tuesday, 11:26 AM
To: Landlord
Subject: Re: Apartment

Well, I would assume so, but again, I have not given notice that I am leaving the apartment and as such the apartment is not yet for lease, and honestly, despite putting in the application I have not yet 100% made up my mind that I will take the apartment. I informed you that I was applying for another apartment as a courtesy. Please show me the same. I assure you that as soon as I have made a firm decision on the whole issue I will let you know. I even had someone express interest in the apartment to me last night after I mentioned that it might be available.

-----Original Message-----
From: Landlord
Sent: Tuesday, 11:48 AM
To: Ana
Subject: Re: Apartment

Ana, I have to assume that you will be approved and make a business decision to re-lease the apartment. I certainly will show you every courtesy. If you'd like to renew the lease then I am fine with that. This is a business issue. I really can't afford to have the apartment empty even for a month.

I have already had a call on the apartment and will be showing it later today. Do you know when your new apartment will be available? Again, I am more than happy to renew your lease. At this point I just need to know what to do.


Okay, at this point I kinda just sat there dumbfounded. I was at work and there wasn’t much more I could do, but it really upset me that after four years of being the perfect tenant, this woman wouldn’t give me 24-48 hours to think over the situation and had already put up a ‘for rent’ sign and was showing the apartment that very day. As I hadn’t planned on the apartment being shown, all of my valuables sat out in the open and lingerie was hanging up to dry in the bathroom. I was still trying to figure out what to do when I received this email:


-----Original Message-----
From: Landlord
Sent: Tuesday, 12:23 PM
To: Ana
Subject: Re: Apartment

Ana, I've just shown the apartment and the lady would like to take it. Her lease is up July 31st but she can move in July 1st, depending on your schedule. I didn't take a deposit because you and I haven't finalized anything. I let her know the situation.

She offered to buy your washer and dryer. Does your new place have connections or would you like to sell them?

Honestly, I'd prefer it if you stayed. I just have to make sure I don't have an empty apartment.


WTF? Not only has she managed to put the place up for rent, shown it, and found a prospective taker in less than three hours, but she’s also offered up my washer and dryer for sale? I was so peeved that I stopped responding.

-----Original Message-----
From: Landlord
Sent: Tuesday, 1:40 PM
To: Ana
Subject: Re: Apartment

[Potential New Landlord] just called and of course I gave him an excellent referral.


Potential New Landlord later said that LL had been terse and to the point, but had given him the information he needed. I certainly hope so…insofar as anything else would have been fraud. Still no response on my end.

-----Original Message-----
From: Landlord
Sent: Tuesday, 2:58 PM
To: Ana
Subject: Re: Apartment

Ana, Can you tell me what the electric bill runs?

-----Original Message-----
From: Ana
Sent: Tuesday, 3:02 PM
To: Landlord
Subject: Re: Apartment

About $150-200/month. I haven't been accepted by the other place yet, but if I was, when would be the earliest that you'd be willing to release me from any further contractual obligation if I decided to leave?

I wrote this because my month-to-month writing in my lease is kind of sketchy. Unlike other leases that only require a thirty day notice, my lease would officially end on the last day of the month following the month in which I gave notice – meaning that if I gave notice any time during the month of June, I would be financially obligated through July 31st. This hacked me off because my landlord put the house up for sale around the 1st of June and then left town. I found out about the listing on June 3rd. If she hadn’t left me in the dark, I would have been able to give notice in May. Luckily, I’d previously negotiated this situation with the prospective new landlord and July 31st wasn’t a problem, but I still thought it was an underhanded move on LL’s part.

In the meantime, Senior Counsel sent me home and told me to go talk to LL to find out what the heck was going on. She ran out of the front office as soon I as pulled into the garage. What followed was a bizarre conversation where she told me that she really wanted to keep me as a tenant, and she was sorry if anything had happened that day to upset me. I replied that I found it strange that I specifically mentioned in my original email that part of the reason I was considering moving was because I didn’t like the idea of strangers wandering through the house, and her response had been to book an appointment that very day.

LL backtracked, still acting sweet as pie and told me that I could have a lease for as long as I wanted, and if I didn’t want prospective buyers walking through the house, she wouldn’t show them the apartment. Whatever I wanted, she would make it happen. She’d just *had* to put up the sign that day because if I moved out on June 30th, she’d be left with a vacant apartment, and she couldn’t afford a month without the rent. I thought this odd as was obligated through July 31st, but didn’t say anything. When I later checked my email I found this email that she’d sent before I got home.

-----Original Message-----
From: Landlord
Sent: Tuesday, 3:26 PM
To: Ana
Subject: Re: Apartment

The lease requires (either side) to give 30 days notice which is effective at the end of the following month. So any notice between now and June 30 would be effective July 31st. The lady I spoke with earlier today said she could move in July 1st. Assuming she comes back with her application and deposit, July 1st would be fine with me. Whatever is convenient with you.

Way to lie to my face, LL.

The new landlord called back around 6 pm to tell me that I’d been accepted. I immediately told him that I’d take the place. I’m still worried about the cost, but after what I went through on Tuesday, I figure that I better get out while the getting’s good. Otherwise I might end up with a lease I couldn’t get out of, but has some weird hidden clause in it where the LL can break my lease and do whatever..or worse, maybe she would just continue to show the house without my knowledge. It’s not like I feel that I can trust her on any level after that whole shebang (and a few other experiences I’ve had with her that make me question her ethics).

So yeah, I'm moving. More on the new place later. It really is lovely though, and besides the higher rent, the only thing I'm worried about is living above someone. (I've got heavy feet!)

Perhaps I should make a little bit more of an effort...

The other day I was at a business lunch and an associate asked what my hobbies and interests were. I shrugged. Normally I respond that I'm a voracious reader, but as of late, I haven't even been able to finish an article in the New Yorker.

Never fear, my Senior Counsel piped up to save the day.

"Ana really likes red wine," she said with a smile.

It's true, but maybe it's time to find a few more conversationally acceptable interests instead of remarking that I've shifted from Pinots to Syrahs.

But if you try sometimes, you just might find…you get what you need…

This past week was my birthday. I turned 34. Last year when I turned 33 I did nothing. I had just graduated from law school, was single, had a few not-so-great job prospects, and was studying for the bar. I felt like I’d been busting my hump for the last three years with little to show for it, and overall, I just felt old, or older, and still completely unaccomplished.

I thought I could never work at a firm or for a corporation. So last year, I stuck to small shops and non-traditional legal work. After a series of unfulfilling (both intellectually and financially) hourly positions, I have a salaried job that I enjoy…at a corporation. The people I work with not only have personalities, but they’re also smart…and some of them are creative. They’re not evil and full of greed. They’re interesting and care about what they do. The job isn’t yet economically-sustaining, but the opportunity is there and hopefully not that far off.

After dating a Generation Y hippie musician that I thought was everything I wanted in a guy, I realized how your fantasies don’t always line up with reality. However the experience allowed me to broaden my horizons on the dating front, and I’m now dating a Brooks-Brothers-wearing, ex-frat boy corporate attorney who is four years older than me, spoils me rotten, and is quite possibly the kindest, most considerate person that I’ve yet dated.

For the most part, I’ve given up smoking (though I will admit to having a few still when I’m drinking). This has made me ten pounds heavier, but I must be growing as a person because I finally think my health is more important than my looks. (This might of course all go to hell if I become fifteen pounds heavier. I’m reserving the right to reneg on this front.)

On my birthday, I found out that my garage apartment is being sold out from underneath me. I cried a little over the fact that the place that has been my home for the last four years is about to be sold so that it can be torn down for crappy stucco condos, but then decided to move on. I spent today in my car driving around the neighborhood looking for lease signs and viewed a few places. I didn’t find anything that fit me, but I have a little while to figure it out, and I have hope that I can find something in the next month or so. (Oh, but the packing and the moving will be horrible!)

Over the past week I’ve had three birthday dinners, two birthday lunches and the opportunity to catch up with many old friends – even one of my friends from Paris was in town. My waistline hates me, but my heart is happy.

AND on this birthday, I received the most flowers that I’ve ever received in my life. Check out the booty!


The ones on the right are from the new man, the ones in the middle are from my parents, and the ones on the left? Those are from blogging’s very own PT-Law Mom!

Aren’t they pretty?

(He also got me a half-day at the spa...because I've "been so stressed out lately with work and not smoking and everything else" he "thought I needed a day to just relax and not worry about anything other than myself." I might be getting snowed here, but it's totally working.)



So yeah, at 33 I was just older. At 34 I’m old enough to appreciate it. I can’t wait for 35.



Happy Birthday indeed.

Out with the Old, In with the New...

I think any time you experience a life milestone, become bored, or start sleeping with someone new you should get new bedding.

Given that all of the above have happened in the last year I finally made the plunge.

(Okay maybe I was really bored one Friday afternoon and went a little crazy shopping online.)

At any rate, here's the before...




And here's the after:



For the record, we went from light blue down comforter with denim accent to navy quilt, white sheets accented with blue stripe, and monogramming. As you can see, the care bear remains.

I promise to write something substantive soon. It's just that there's so much to discuss - life after law school (aka as a 'professional'), the new man, and my foray into extreme self-indulgence, i.e. therapy. (I know it's weak, but as it turns out, quitting smoking was much harder on me emotionally than I expected.)

Getting older...

Remember when birthdays used to mean a new dress, black patent shoes, and your mom making the coolest cake ever?


Yours Truly at her 5th Birthday

Well, times have changed.




Now birthdays mean receiving a gift that says, "Hey, here's a reusable water bottle that won't leach chemicals and give you breast cancer or take up space in a landfill. Oh, and did I mention, it's PINK!"

Happy Birthday Wine-Time-Girl and Congratulations on still being younger than me.

Firsts...

I wondered why he asked for my business card at the end of our first meeting.

Can I get that Monogrammed?

A few weeks ago, I wanted a large towel for yoga and mentioned it to a friend of mine. She later forwarded an email for a catalog brand having a clearance sale and offering free shipping. Unfamiliar with the brand, I asked her about it.

“They’re kind of like the L.L. Bean of bath and bedding,” she said.

“Ohmygod, I *love* L.L. Bean,” I replied.

I realized that the response was reflexive, rather odd for praising an outdoor catalog…and for one who very rarely did outdoor activities… and almost never shopped at L.L. Bean.

I mean, I remember ordering from them when I was a kid. All of my backpacks came from there, a few of my clothes. But still, why the OH, My gosh! LL Bean is so grrrrreat! response? Reflecting, all I could come up with was that I think my mother always spoke well of the company when it was mentioned in conversation, and I, twenty years later must simply be mimicking her behavior.

Then, just last week, Mystery Man was at my house, and we were sitting on the patio drinking a glass of wine. Conversation segues led to the telling of a trip up the east coast I took with my mother and sister when I was thirteen.

“We went to the Baltimore aquarium and then on to all the historic places in Philadelphia, stopped to see my uncle in Newport, RI, and finally we made it to Maine and the L.L. Bean headquarters,” I told him.

And would you believe, without a second thought and in the exact same manner as I had done a few days earlier, Mystery Man offered an affirmation about L.L. Bean and its general goodness?

It’s pandemic!

Ok, maybe not. I have only two people to go on, but both of us reacted the same way to hearing the words L.L. Bean?!?! And then I wondered if it might be some sort of cultural or geographic or even religious influence. Neither MM nor I grew up in Texas where LL Bean is rarely mentioned, but he was mid-Atlantic while I was southeast. Further complicating the regional theory, my family made the most LL Bean purchases during the (comparatively) brief period that we lived in Santa Fe.

The only major parallel that MM and I share is that we were both raised Episcopalian, and I tried hard to remember if somewhere between the “Peace be with yous” and communions the rector would pause to give a sermon touting the latest benefits of thermal underwear and waffle-weaving. Or perhaps copies of the catalog circulated in the collection plate? Or maybe church had nothing to do with it. Maybe generalized responsive statements about LL.Bean were the password for a secret society long ago forgotten. Or maybe...

Whatever it was, it was weird.

If you’ve had this experience, feel free to share.

Who can tell?

I woke up at 5 am on Saturday and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I ended up cleaning. The house is really starting to look fabulous. I mean, there’s the basic stuff you do to maintain cleanliness and then there’s the great above and beyond.

Last night Wine-Time-Girl called me to see if I wanted to meet for dinner/drinks and I nearly had a coronary because I’d planned to vinegar-wash my wood floors that evening. A few days ago we were at the bookstore and as WTG took her books to the counter I was like, “Oh wait!” and pulled a coupon out of my purse and handed it to her.

I’m going through one of those phases. There’s a big long list of things that need to be done and it’s all the irregular things you don’t usually get around to. For example, my front doormat was dead. It had been dead for a solid year, but in the last few weeks a replacement became utterly necessary. So what did I do? I researched doormats online. No really, I did. And then I went to BB&Beyond, found the one I wanted, and used a coupon. It’s an extremely practical doormat, the kind with the bristles that clean the grooves in your shoes. I bought it because my running shoes often get filled with little pieces of wet grass while I walk the dog. Once the grass dries it all falls off onto the carpet of my bedroom closet driving me completely insane.

But, no more! Now the problem is solved. Now when I wipe my feet on the door mat, the grass actually comes off of my shoes and there’s no more dirt or junk on the floor of the closet. I wonder if little things like this are the kind of things I’m getting around to now that I’m feeling settled or are instead the result of not having a life…except that I am not without a life, at least according to the large desk calendar that hangs on the wall to my left.

Tuesday – Dinner/drinks with girl friend from college
Wednesday – Personal Trainer
Thursday – Drinks with guy friend from law school
Saturday Morning – Yoga with married friend
Saturday Afternoon – lotsa errands
Saturday evening – Birthday party for Other-University friend

Friday is tentatively open. I like watching Ghost Whisperer and haven’t seen it in forever. There’s also a book I need to read for book club, so I might use the time for that. OR, if I’ve got some nervous energy, the tub and the toilet completely need to be scrubbed. Or I could clean the floor mats for the car. Or, or, or.

Yesterday I completed all of the hand-washing that’s been building up. Nothing in my house needs to be ironed. Today I looked up how to clean the upholstery on my couch given that my dog apparently liked to sit on it while I was outside smoking. (The dog is loving this phase. She’s getting two walks and a brushing every day.)

Part of this is keeping myself busy while I don’t smoke. And keeping myself busy so that I don’t eat while I don’t smoke. But all of it seems to be representative of something greater and I haven’t *quite* figured out what it is yet.

The no smoking, massive cleaning, extra-exercise – am I trying to make myself perfect in some way? Is the attempt to better myself just for me? Am I adding to an already solid foundation or attempting to reconstruct my self-esteem? Am I doing this because I’m bored? Because I want to appear more attractive? Does obsessively wanting to vinegar wash your floors make anyone *appear* more attractive? Is there something that I’m putting off acknowledging, and I’m scheduling every free minute of my time as a method of denial? Will I suddenly crack and COMPLETELY lose it? I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve been on the fringe for the past year. I might be coming out of it or I might be about to fall down a rabbit hole.

I should probably think about this. Hmm, maybe I’ll schedule a time.

Payback...

Ordering at Brunch...

Ana: And I'd like the Garden Salad, no cheese, with the vinaigrette dressing on the side.
Wine-Time-Girl: This is going to be awesome.
Ana: What do you mean?
WTG: Your quitting smoking. For the last three years I've ordered salads with no dressing while I watched you eat a cheeseburger with fries.

Sometimes it pays to be a little Type A...

Friday at 3:00 pm my friend texted me, “Personal trainer isn’t feeling well. Are you available tomorrow?”

We were scheduled to work out at 6 pm. Thinking I’d be worn-out afterward, I left the rest of my evening free. My plan was to curl up on the couch and chow down on Chinese take-out. In fact, as my friend texted, I was on the website for the Chinese place, picking out my dinner, writing down the menu number, and programming the phone number into my cell so that I could make the order as I walked out the door of the gym and pick it up on the way home.

“I’m available from 1-2,” I texted back.

Actually, that was somewhat of a stretch. I had a baby shower at 11 am that was likely to go a full two hours, a crawfish boil at 3 pm, and a cookout at 5 pm. Somewhere in there I needed to drop-off items at the neighborhood Goodwill-like facility and this would take awhile since my guestroom has around ten large bags of clothing. In addition, I’d hoped to sell back some books at my used bookstore. If possible, I might squeeze in a grocery run which requires going to three different places because *none* of my grocery stores carry all my needed items (produce and gourmet-like items at one place, pre-packaged goods at another, and then household items at Target).

UGHH! I was so mad. That morning I hadn’t taken a shower knowing that I’d be working out later in the evening. My hair was ok for the workday, but would be greasy by the baby shower at 11 the next morning. Therefore I’d have to wash it that evening and then wash it again around 2 pm after working out. UGH! I hated to do that. It was so bad for your hair! And when would I have time to work-out and shower?

And not only that, but what was I going to do with my totally open Friday night? I purposefully hadn’t made plans. Now I had nothing to do, and I certainly wasn’t going to sit down with Chinese food after NOT working out. Chinese was to be my comfy reward after a hard workout and week of healthy eating.

WAH! Why couldn’t people just respect other people’s schedules? Why do we make plans if we will break them at the drop of a hat? My week is busy. My time is limited. That’s why I schedule – so I can fit it all in. I can’t do the whole “let’s check in later this week.” Later in the week, I’ll be scheduled. BUT once I make plans with someone, I’ll almost *never* break them.

I have to admit that I was extra-peeved because earlier in the week, I'd agreed to last-minute plans for drinks against my better judgment only to have the friend say they'd be a little bit late and then call nearly two hours after the scheduled time and express disappointment that I and my third friend no longer wanted to meet up...at midnight...on a weekday...simply because the first friend didn't really feel like showing up any earlier.

Plus, I'd also had the whole situation of "let's touch base later this week" which I immediately wrote-off after completing the conversation because I knew I wouldn't have time to meet-up later in the week.

And you know what? I bet the personal trainer probably just wanted to leave work a little early on Friday. My friend and I were the last appointment of the day. He’d said his sinuses were bothering him – it seemed like the perfect illness to appear and disappear within a few hours time.

My friend texted back, “Can you do noon?”

NO I CANNOT! THIS IS WHY I SCHEDULED THE WORKOUT FOR FRIDAY EVENING!

We went back and forth, but couldn't reach an agreement. We discussed doing Sunday, but I *really* didn’t want to do it then because Wine-Time-Girl’s just come back in town from a six-week job training shin-dig and we had brunch plans. I wasn’t thrilled about getting up early and going beforehand - Sunday’s a sleep-in day, plus who wants to pass out after one mimosa because you’ve just worked your butt off? And I certainly didn’t want to do it *after* I drank mimosas.

AUGH!!!

I was furious, just furious. This had really thrown a wrench in everything. I had the whole weekend perfectly planned and then…boom!

“Well, what do you want me to do?” my friend asked.

I wanted his number. She gave it to me, and I called him a left him a message asking if he was sick like “super-sick” or sick like “would prefer to go home, but it’s not a big deal” because really seriously, the rest of the weekend was kind of shot and I’d purposefully cleared my Friday to do this.

“Did you really ask him if he was faking?” my friend asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “but not in an accusatory way.”

“He’s never cancelled on me before,” she said.

Oh, well that would have been good to know. I started to feel bad. Maybe the guy really was sick. Maybe I was an inflexible jerk.

As I walked to my car at five, the trainer texted me to go ahead and come on in at the scheduled time. When I got to the gym I have to admit, he was a little sniffly, but he was also just ending things with another client – so he hadn’t felt so bad that he’d had to go home.

I worked my rear off, called the Chinese restaurant on the way to the car, picked it up on the way home, and happily went on with the rest of my uber-scheduled weekend until the rain got so bad that the roads flooded and the 3pm party was cancelled and I couldn’t drive to my 5 pm. After swinging by Target after the baby shower (which ended at 2!), I stopped off at the video store and picked up a Elizabeth Gaskell BBC drama to supplement the evening.

So Happy.

But surely it must go somewhere?!?

How graphic can I get in regards to smoking (or lack thereof) and my digestive system?

Ok, if you’re still reading, I’ll assume that you don’t take issue. The above sentence was a sort of warning…not that it’s really anything graphic.

So Saturday as my friend drove us to the gym for my first attempt at the embarrassment that is “personal training” I was madly gulping down hot tea. Our appointment had been made somewhat on the fly, and as such, I was the teensiest bit hungover from the night before and horribly dehydrated.

“Why are you drinking tea when it’s a diuretic?” my friend asked.

When I thought about it, it made sense that yes, tea would be a diuretic. And yet I had never considered it before. Here’s why that was so disturbing. I drink three different things: red wine, coffee, and tea. (Quantities are in descending order.) Tea is my hydration drink.

Seriously.

I never drink water. Maybe a Pelligrino occasionally, but nothing else. Sometimes orange juice when it’s mixed with champagne. And sometimes tomato juice when it’s mixed with vodka and other times lime juice when it’s mixed with tequila, but that's it.

Flash forward to Tuesday morning. I did not even think about what I wanted to wear to work. I went straight for the largest pair of pants that I owned. I’ve gained about seven pounds in the past month and it feels awful, but thank goodness for fat pants, right? I mean, sometimes these pants were so big that I thought they would fall off me.

Except on Tuesday they were tight, like really tight. Now I know that I’ve gained weight, but seven pounds even on a small person doesn’t seem like it should be that substantial. Problem was, it was all going to my thighs…and my stomach.

My tummy is my temporary food storage spot and these days it’s bigger than ever. And not big as in rolls of fat, but hard and distended like an over-inflated beach ball. As I attempted to button my pants, I poked my finger into my stomach and felt the resistance.

And then I realized something.

I could not for the life of me remember the last time that I’d gone to the bathroom. (We’re talking #2 here.)

Have I ever mentioned that one of my favorite things about cigarettes were the fact that they kept me “regular”? No? Well, that was one of the main selling points for me. I mean, if not for cigarettes and scotch I would be the most irritated and agitated person on the planet. It’s why I was so unlikable as a child.

This sucked. As we know, I don’t do well with fiber and raw vegetables or whole grains. They cause me great, great pain. Or…I thought about it a little bit. Maybe it’s just really hard to pass anything, especially grains and vegetables when YOU NEVER DRINK ANY WATER!

For the last three days, I’ve had a glass of water within reach at all times. Forget gum, forget everything else. Drinking water is my new obsession.

And guess what? I’ve gone FIVE TIMES! That is more in a 72-hour time period than I have ever gone in my life excepting when my stomach was violently upset. Usually I am lucky to go once a day. And guess what else? I'm eating baby carrots and celery sticks and chopped onions without agony!

I haven’t lost the weight and my clothes aren’t fitting yet, but I've got to be honest with you. I’m feeling a lot better these days.

Water, who knew? Well, probably everyone on the planet except me, but...good to know.

Best Weekend Evah...

Ok, maybe not ever, but best weekend in a really long time. Here’s why:

THURSDAY

• Three day weekend – meaning that my weekend started on Thursday!
• Was a little peeved because I had a mandatory CLE class that started at 8 am on Friday. Yes, my first holiday at work and 4.5 hours of it was going to CLE!
• Dentist appt Thursday afternoon – After four years without a polish/cleaning, my teeth are now stain-free. YAY FOR CLEAN TEETH! ROCK ON!
• (Did I mention that in my early-quit spending spree I bought a new Sonicare that I love? The last one was ten years old!)
• Realized at 3 pm that I hadn’t eaten anything all day – i.e. my whole “blood sugar level” anxiety is completely psychosomatic and I can return to my normal eating habits (2 snacks during the day + decent-sized meal at night). YEE-HAW!
• Met a friend for a nice dinner.
• It was a beautiful day so we sat outside.
• Turns out my friend was debating the same two entrees as me so we got to share. AWESOME.
• Same exact thing happened with dessert. NO WAY!
• Found out from friend that the CLE date had been changed. Not only did I not lose 4.5 hours out of my Friday, but now I would get to sleep in as well. GROOVY!
• Got into my car and realized that four hours had mysteriously flown by because my friend and I were having such a good time chatting at dinner.

FRIDAY

• Got up around 10 am and decided to run errands.
• During my whole ‘quit’ phase I’ve been a little crazy with the shopping in order to avoid smoking and stay busy. (I was too fidgety to sit still and read like normal.)
• Thankfully, I’ve used very few of my purchases and returned $530 worth of STUFF.
• Two-hundred-dollars worth were actually two dresses I bought back in January on a whim. Hadn’t worn them, but was worried about returning them because my debit card was reissued about a month ago due to a potential card number theft. Ergo, I couldn’t return the merchandise back onto the card listed on the receipt. Thought I would get stuck with a store credit at a place where I never shopped.
• The sales associate double-checked the date (because of a 90-day return policy) on the receipt, but didn’t check the card number and took my new debit card without batting an eye. Two hundred bucks back that I thought were lost! CHING-CHING!
• Met PT-Law Mom for lunch and margaritas. Beautiful day. Sat outside.
• Had three margaritas. Sent silly text messages to Mystery Man. He responded by asking if I had Sunday brunch plans. SWEET.
• After lunch, PTLM and I went for pedicures. CUTE PINK TOES!
• Had just enough time to let my toes dry before meeting a different group of friends for dinner AND margaritas. TEX-MEX FOR TWO MEALS IN A ROW = PRETTY AMAZING.

SATURDAY

• Friend called mid-day to see if I wanted to go with her to visit her personal trainer since I’ve been feeling fatty.
• Personal trainer was *awesome* and training with the friend was actually fun. We're going to go together once a week. YIPPEE FOR GETTING IN SHAPE!
• During our work-out, the trainer kept teasing my friend because she is going home to visit her parents for a week.
• Her parents own a Chinese restaurant.
• He kept mentioning how she was going to be tempted with Lemon Chicken and Fried Rice and Etc.
• Friend and I walked outside of gym after training, turned to each other and simultaneously said, “Do you want to go grab some fried rice?” THE POWER OF SUGGESTION IS FABULOUS.
• We ended up going for Vietnamese and getting vermicelli salads. Then we split a massive slice of carrot cake. MMMMM!
• Had a BBQ to go to on Saturday, but was a little tired and skipped out.
• Somewhere in there I did my laundry – as in the whole sheets, towels, clothes shebang and picked up my dry-cleaning.

SUNDAY

• Woke up and walked dog. In fact, doggie got two long walks EACH day of the three-day weekend. WHOO-HOO FOR BEING A GOOD OWNER AND GETTING SOME EXERCISE!
• Had to blow-out and then iron my hair because weather was kind of disastrous. (This was not fun, but was about as bad as the weekend got besides finding out that Target wasn’t open on Easter.)
• Went to brunch with Mystery Man.
• It was pouring down rain so I got to wear my new raincoat. SWELL!
• Kinda wish I’d put my heels in my purse and worn my new wellies also because the weather really was awful! MM and I got doused in the windy downpour despite clinging to a little umbrella.
• One word: BUFFET! I ate it all and didn’t feel bad.
• Sadly – who the heck has a Sunday Easter brunch buffet that doesn’t include BACON?!?!?
• Yes, despite my discussion of easter brunches and bacon, I am still Jewish…I think. L’CHAIM!
• Oh yeah, did I mention bottomless mimosas? And bellinis? And bloody mary’s? And champagne? Converted Jew? Yes. Cultural Episcopalian? It’s my heritage for crying out loud!
• Pleasant conversation with Mystery Man. Found out that he thought a mutual friend was being a little hard on me over a certain situation and so he said something to them on my behalf. I’m not sure if I should be offended or find that seriously adorable. AWWW!
• MM dropped me off at my house and we discussed getting together again. He said we could get together for brunch again next week, but when I paused on my response, he said maybe we should just check-in during the week. I said, ok, but it wasn’t THAT BIG OF A PAUSE. Hmpf. (I was thinking that I usually do brunch with Wine-Time-Girl and that the only reason I hadn’t on that particular weekend was because she was out of town.)
• I walk inside my house and realize that I am not sure if MM and I met for brunch as friends or on a date. HILARIOUS.
• I wouldn’t say I’m dating him, but I wouldn’t say I’m NOT dating him. So I guess I’m not not-dating him. We’ve been not not-dating for two months with one real date, two one-on-one not not-dates, one group not not-date, plus a collection of phone calls and text messages.
• ????? I know.
• Okay fine, we’re NOT dating. It was still fun to have a brunch date.
• Spent the rest of Sunday running errands and marking off items on my to-do list. (Have I mentioned that I don’t have a dishwasher?)
• Ended the weekend with nearly everything wiped off my to-do list (except for taking “The Pile” to Goodwill). Sat down with a glass of wine for 90 minutes of Little Dorrit (Part Three) on Masterpiece Theater. LOVE THIS SERIES!

Oh, and today I got a library card!

Yeah, I’ve actually been *happy* for the last few days…so of course I had to tell you after all the whining related to quitting the past few weeks.

Fat and Unhappy?

Chicken magazine (aka Magic Cookie) in the comments section inquired as to how I was doing.

I’m not sure?

Hmm, yes. I’m uncertain as to whether or not I’m uncertain as to how I’m doing. This sounds good, no?

On the no smoking front, I will say this. I am committed to doing it. This ‘quit’ has been different in that I really firmly do not want to think of myself as a ‘smoker’ any longer. In the past I preferred to be a ‘smoker’ who just didn’t smoke or who was on hiatus, but now I don’t want any kind of patterned, consistent, or regular activity of smoking or being a smoker in my life.

I think this is a good thing. It *feels* different.

That being said, there is a lot of crap to plow through in this whole endeavor and in some ways I feel like I am starting certain portions of my life all over again.

For example, I smoked when I was bored. I’m adjusting to this, especially since I’ve been feeling very tired since I quit. It’s such a drag – feeling like I have extra free time, but not wanting to move. I know the energy will come back eventually, but right now my life seems so dull.

As for dull, well, part of that’s been purposefully imposed. I don’t want a lot of drama in my life right now because trying to not smoke everyday is enough. I don’t want something to set me off emotionally and send me running for my ciggies.

Speaking of that though, the emotional aspect is one of the hardest for quitting. I used to smoke when I got upset, and now I’m working on finding some other kind of outlet for that. In the meantime, I am breaking into tears at random moments, being overly clingy with my friends (big slurpy air-kisses to Wine-Time-Girl and Fairy-God-Brother), and occasionally sending text messages to my ex to tell him that I miss him. (Thank *god* he is not texting back. As it turns out, getting plastered and making out with Mystery Man in front of the Ex was actually a *good* thing.)

And being bored and upset? I think I now understand the term ‘emotional eating.’ This doesn’t help insofar as now that nicotine is no longer regulating my blood sugar level I feel like I have to stop and eat all the time. Yes, I am gaining weight. No, I will not take a picture of my butt so that you can see just how bad it is. Yes, part of it is definitely water weight. No, I do not think the answer is to start exercising more. (No! Do not even suggest it in the comments!)

But let’s add all of this up…

I’m sitting at home feeling lonely and eating (massive amounts of proteins, fruits, and whole grains because god forbid I put something non-nutritious in my mouth) while my emotions see-saw back and forth and my ass widens. No wonder people fall off the wagon! I quit because I wanted to take greater control of my life and because I did, I feel like I have *NO* control over anything.

As I said though, the good news is, I want to quit. I don’t want to be a smoker again. And I tell this to myself when my pants won’t zip or I’m lying on the floor in a ball snotting over myself. I tell myself that this will all work itself out in a few months and everything will stabilize: my weight, my emotions, my hunger, my energy levels, my ability to go and be social without massively craving a cigarette.
The end result will make it all worthwhile.

Right now however, it totally sucks.

(And if I get around to it this week, I’ll post about how for the first two weeks I turned into a shopaholic in order to stay busy as well as my whole foray into calorie-counting, carb-counting, and glycemic indices which caused me to eat about 30 carbs a day in zealousness until this weekend…when I ate nearly a pound of skittles in one day and nothing else. I need to remember that ‘everything in moderation’ is the phrase that’s always worked best for me…and striving for perfection is my own personal sin.)

She pops a Junior Mint into her mouth and smiles.

The Motivation to Quit...

So I guess I should finally comment on why I decided to attempt to quit smoking or slow down on my smoking or my temporary hiatus or whatever we’re calling it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about in the past few weeks about the general direction I’d like my life to take. As previously mentioned, I’ve been erratic and felt off-base for the last few months. Screwball prior year aside, I think some of it has to do with where I am. For the last four years my main overarching goal has been to get through law school, graduate, pass the bar and find a job I enjoy.

I made it through; I succeeded at every task, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. My entire life I have always had some kind of big challenge looming on the horizon.

I’d like to advance at my job, but that will take time, and to be honest, I’m pretty happy with where I am right now. I’ve only been there a few months and before I start to make any long-term goals I really need to learn more about the industry and the portion related to my work.

I turn 34 in about two months. Given my rapidly-decreasing fertility I should probably decide if I want children and how much I want them. All I’ve been able to come up with is that I definitively do not want them now, am not certain if I will want them later, and would *strongly* prefer to raise them with someone else as opposed to on my own.

In the relationship realm, I’m ready for something committed and long-term (this was a big step for me to get to), but I haven’t yet decided how I feel about marriage.

That goal of owning a house? See above stuff about job. It’s all part of the package.

So that was what first brought quitting to mind. I needed a challenge – something huge to take my mind off of other things that are out of my control, something that was ongoing, and something that would benefit me in a lot of different ways. What I mean is:

Quitting is good for my job because I’ll be at my desk more often, ie more "face-time".
Quitting is good for my finances because it saves me money.
Quitting is good for my love life…because so many guys won’t even approach a smoker. (Jerks!)
Quitting is good for my health because I’ll breathe easier.
Quitting is good for my appearance because my skin won’t be as dry and I’ll have fewer wrinkles over the long term.
Quitting is good for everything by making me sleep better.
Oh, and supposedly I’ll live longer and stuff.

So see: health, beauty, fitness, career, love. Talk about all-encompassing.

Ok, so there was my big challenge with a multitude of results. The problem with quitting smoking is that you really have to want to quit. You can’t just *decide* to do it.

So I thought about all of the reasons that I started smoking and none of them seemed to still apply. I’m no longer socially retarded (most of the time) and can hold a conversation when I desire or need. The whole tough/less innocent/whatever image is no longer necessary. These days, I think most people are aware of the fact that I can kick their ass, and if anything, people probably perceive me as more of a “bad-girl” than I actually am.

So if that was true than why was I smoking? Habit? Addiction? I thought about this for quite awhile. When I stopped to smoke a cigarette, I noted how I was feeling. It was the usual stuff:
• when I was nervous;
• when I was bored;
• when I was upset.

I never really could come up with a reason though, but I kept thinking about it and the reasons that people smoke. Somewhere I came up with a theory about smoking. I don’t know if it’s why I smoked or not, but one day smoking just started to look to me like a form of self-injury. This upset me greatly because for all of my childhood and part of my adult life, I didn’t like myself. In fact, I hated myself. Intensely. I thought I was a bad person who deserved bad things in life. Now in hindsight that was completely untrue, but it was what it was. It took a very long time to overcome and it was something I worked really hard at.

When viewed through this lens, smoking now seemed to be a sort of self-imposed punishment and it didn’t look any different than the people who get upset and go cut themselves. No, it wasn’t necessarily done in an impetuous rage, but rather carried out with a slow methodical vengeance. I tend to smoke the most when I feel like someone has upset me or I otherwise feel insecure, but I don’t often feel like I’m the cause of the problem. Picking up a cigarette every time someone hurt my feelings made me feel like I was admitting that the error was mine.

You hurt me, but I caused it and I’m at fault.
You hurt me, but it my own fault for being friends with someone like you.
It’s me; it’s not you.
Whatever it is; it’s all my fault.
And I’m going to go punish myself now for it. I’m going to go kill myself a little bit, and I’m going to do it publicly so all the world will know what a wretched little person I am.

Same for nervous social situations.
I can’t handle this.
Something’s wrong with me.
Excuse me while I walk outside and kill myself a little bit.

Bad girl. Bad girl. Bad girl.

I don’t know if I’m explaining it clearly or not, but viewing smoking in that way made me feel ill about my self-esteem. I decided that if I really did love myself, and I really did think I was a good person then I would have to prove it by quitting.

So, that’s the story, and I have to say that when you’re thinking of picking up a cigarette, it does work really effectively. Last night however, I found out that it doesn’t work as well if you’re in self-flagellation mode.

Here’s what happened. My friend threw a b-day party and sent out an email. In the invitation she said that you could park anywhere in the garage. When I got to her apartment, I saw signs saying that unless you parked in a designated visitor space, you would be towed. The spaces weren’t numbered or marked and given my friends email, I just figured that the rule wasn’t enforced.

Um, yeah. I was towed. And then we spent several hours trying to figure out where my car was because the tow sign in the parking garage wasn’t the service that took my car.

And I was really feeling like an asshole because I disrupted the party AND this was going to cost a lot of money AND someone was going to have to drive me to a sketchy lot in the middle of nowhere AND all because I didn’t pay attention to a clearly posted sign and simply park a few spaces away. I was just so mad at myself.

So I found a cigarette, lit it, took three puffs and then stopped to think, “You know, you made a mistake and parked in the wrong parking space, Ana, but do you really think it’s worth killing yourself over?”

So I put it out. And no, I’m not going to shame and berate myself for the three puffs because that would probably just drive me back to smoking. Actually, it felt really nice this morning to wake up, remember what had happened, forgive myself, and go on with my day.

Oh, and on a side note, Quitting is good for my imagination...because whenever I see someone else smoking now, I wonder what it is they're punishing themselves over.

Today is an "angry" day...and one where I keep telling myself, "I WILL NOT GO SMOKE A CIGARETTE OVER THIS! I will not hurt myself in response to feeling hurt by other people."

She breathes in. She breathes out. She hopes it's over soon.

Break!

While I still plan to go into my ‘why I’m quitting this time’ spiel at some point, I’m going to talk about the “fun” of withdrawal.

Actually, I’m not sure that’s what it is, but basically, here's my health symptoms of the last eight days. It could be withdrawal or allergies or the flu or I could be dying....

Day 1: Felt fine. Had a few cravings. Wasn’t used to sitting still so much, so I went on three separate walks while I was at work. Still spent less time away from my desk than when I was smoking. Couldn’t eat for most of the day. Huge cravings after I got home from work and sat around twiddling my thumbs. Completely exhausted at the end of the day. Went to bed around 9:30 pm (which is super-early for me). Woke up at midnight, 2 am, 4 am, and 6 am.

Day 2: About the same. Walked twice. Couldn’t eat. Went to bed at ten. Woke up in the middle of the night in order to be sick. Haven't done that since I was a kid!

Day 3: Achy, feverish, and feeling like I’m one inch from death. BUT MY STOMACH FINALLY FEELS BETTER SO I’M EATING EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. Lots of cravings. Went to bed early and woke up every two hours.

Day 4: Achy, feverish, and horrible cough. It turns out that once your body realizes you're not smoking, it starts to heal itself. The first thing it does it clear all the crap out of your lungs…so you feel like you have bronchitis. Occasional cravings. Pass out early; wake up every two hours.

Day 5: See above.

Day 6: All of the above, but a little less achy…except now I have serious congestion and need to blow my nose every two seconds. However, tonight I only wake up twice!

Day 7: No achiness, but cough, cold, and snot have been kicked up a notch. Wake up once in the night!

Day 8: Woke up this morning and took an advil, decongestant, and airborne. Am getting ready to walk the dog, but I don’t want to go outside because I’m cold and well, a little achy. Say screw this and call in sick.

I’m feeling ten times better. Still snotting everywhere, but sometimes you just need a little rest or maybe even a mental rest.

It’s been a good day...and I haven't eaten any bread or sugar or stuff...so that's...well, let me explain that one...

As it turns out, there's something in nicotine that causes your body to keep its blood sugar levels elevated - ie, you don't need to eat as often, yada-yada. BUT when you stop smoking, your levels crash and guess what? You're tired, unfocused, and hungry for starches and sugar....which causes your blood sugar levels to skyrocket and then crash again! Why did no one tell me this? So, we're trying to level that out, and hopefully, that will help quite a bit.

And eight days...it's not exactly a year, but it's something.

Or maybe we could have an ANTM-watch party!!!

I dunno. This whole thing kind of creeped me out, and I can't quite put my finger on why. Plus, what's up with the QQI? I mean, one Q is enough. I like the idea of programming oriented towards GLBT issues, but starting a club? How many GAY + JEWISH + COLLEGE STUDENTS do you think there are in this town?


From the Jewish Student Center Newsletter:
The National Jewish [GLBT] Students contacted [local Jewish student association] about empowering and affirming Jewish students who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning and intersex (LGBTQQI). Please give [rabbi] a call or send him an email if you're interested in working with [local student center] to create LGBTQQI Jewish programming such as how to start an LGBT Jewish student group, Sexual Orientation and the Torah, as well as programs accessible to all students with LGBTQQI themes, such as a Purim Drag Show or a LGBT Sukkah.

Maybe there's something about the tone. To me it kind of reads like:
Hi there. Someone in another part of the country tells us that there might be some gay and Jewish kids out there. We're really not familiar with homosexuality, but maybe we can get you guys together and have a drag show or something. You guys like drag shows, right?

Wander-wander...

I have no focus lately so sitting down and writing a blog post feels like torture. …as does reading a book or trying to do legal work. Eating is the most enjoyable thing I can do right now, followed by surfing the net. (Still can't stand TV though.) This weekend I bought a ton of candy and ice cream…odd in that I don’t usually go for that. It turns out it's because my blood sugar levels have dropped…hmmm.

Ok, it took me ten minutes to write that. See, I can’t do anything. Maybe I should start drinking heavily again. Where was I?

Smoking, I think. Cigarettes or something. So yeah, the other post was how I started. I didn’t pick it up the next day or anything, but I was a regular smoker within a month or so. (Egad, writing about this makes me want to smoke. It’s SO crazy.) But yeah, smoking was a source of social interaction for the girl with no social skills. The drinking helped too. Plus, I’m sure that in a way I liked the image it gave me…or the fact that it was a shocking image. At nineteen I looked like I could be a character from Little House on the Prairie and I was about as naïve as one. People told me that they found it so disturbing to see me with a cigarette in hand. I loved it. I think this also contributes to my constant cursing around the same time (which has also continued into later years). I just always came across as so sweet and innocent…and about ten years younger. No one wants to look young from age 11 to about 30.

Now when people card me I’m thrilled, but when you spend the bulk of your twenties unable to date because the only people interested in your have a penchant for pedophilia looking young is not so fabulous. Smoking deepened my voice and made it a little raspy. I had this high-pitched mouse-like voice. The other day I was talking to someone about this girl we knew and how I thought she had the sexiest voice because it was so low and deep. And then whoever it was turned to me and said I had the exact same kind of voice. It made me so happy.

Wow, it’s been nearly an hour. Maybe this is the way to get to me to write shorter blog posts, huh? More to follow later, I guess. I just can’t do it anymore. And yeah, if you haven’t figured out, I’ve stopped smoking for right now…not sure that I’ve quit, but I’ve stopped. This time around, I stopped for reasons not like any reason that’s caused me to quit before…which is what I will write about one day if I can ever get to that point. In the meantime, I’m slightly miserable, but miserable in different ways than usual. And now that I’ve figured out that my whole crazy sugar splurge is a blood sugar thing, I’m tempted to go throw out my ice cream and butterscotch topping insofar as neither of those items will help stabilize my levels.

Sigh.

I'm so horribly bored, but I don't have the concentration to do anything.