People, the work that's been done around here today . . . you would not believe. The Powers That Be have gotten their money's worth out of me. Not since my starry-eyed public defender days have I worked this hard -- non-stop, even! -- for a whole day. There's been typing, there's been file reviewing, there's been faxing and stapling and un-stapling, not to mention clocking AND dropping!
Let's take a moment, shall we?
Okay. So, my pet peeve of the day: people who wear those cell-phone-ear-piece-thingys. And talk on them. While walking down the hall, so it looks like they are talking to nobody, which makes me think either:
a) they are talking to me, which compels me to say, "good, how are you?" with that friendly smile my mother taught me, only to realize they are NOT, in fact, talking to me, at which point I feel like Boo-Boo the Fool; OR
b) Jesus HAS arrived and feels so much pressure to get the Word out all quick-like that he's dictating the next ten commandments through speaker phone to the Holy Spirit back at the office, instructing him to send an E-vite to the Second Coming potluck/water-to-wine tasting ASAP. (See yesterday's post.)
This also tends to make me feel like I am not very important or well-liked, since most people who would want to talk to me seem content to wait until I can at least free up a hand to answer the phone. I guess I don't have enough stuff to carry, either, since generally, I have a free hand most all of the day. I mean, right now, I have TWO free hands, which I am using to blog. And nobody seems to be that anxious to interrupt me with a phone call.
There's a special on tonight about Mormons. AND there's a new episode of The Riches. Decisions, decisions.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday Musings
Some of the most . . . "lively" . . . discussions at my house take place when I share little tidbits of the goings-on at Harvey Browne Presbyterian, where I faithfully attend each and every Sunday.
Okay, almost every Sunday. At least a lot of them.
Anyway. So today my Sunday School class took a major detour, as we often do, and the question became, "would you recognize Jesus if he dropped back in on us today?"
Personally, I think if I were to run across Jesus right now, I'd probably take out a mental inquest warrant, and hope that he got on some really good meds.
It's not entirely outside the realm of possibility that Jesus has done the ol' "second coming" and is already locked away somewhere. I may have represented him in my public defender days. I may have prosecuted him.
(Actually, I'm pretty sure that if Jesus comes back, he won't be prosecuted for domestic violence. I'm seeing Jesus more as a disorderly conduct kind of guy. Or, hey, how about theft of identity? Get it? 'Cause he says he's God and stuff? Man, I crack myself up sometimes.)
There are lots of directions such a question could take you. For me, I end up feeling that it's just somehow unfair that we would be expected to recognize Jesus today. Seriously, if some guy came up to you at the mall, or on the bus, and said, "Hi, I'm the son of God" would you ever consider that maybe he really is? And if not, are you a bad person?
I hope that the answer is that what matters is how you live your life and treat other people. But these days, I know fewer and fewer answers.
The interesting thing? About all this religion stuff? The more I think about it, the more I read and listen and try to study, the more questions I get. Not answers -- questions. I guess as long as the questions are this intriguing to me, I'm doing okay. I just sure hope there's not a test on all this.
Happy Sunday, everybody.
Okay, almost every Sunday. At least a lot of them.
Anyway. So today my Sunday School class took a major detour, as we often do, and the question became, "would you recognize Jesus if he dropped back in on us today?"
Personally, I think if I were to run across Jesus right now, I'd probably take out a mental inquest warrant, and hope that he got on some really good meds.
It's not entirely outside the realm of possibility that Jesus has done the ol' "second coming" and is already locked away somewhere. I may have represented him in my public defender days. I may have prosecuted him.
(Actually, I'm pretty sure that if Jesus comes back, he won't be prosecuted for domestic violence. I'm seeing Jesus more as a disorderly conduct kind of guy. Or, hey, how about theft of identity? Get it? 'Cause he says he's God and stuff? Man, I crack myself up sometimes.)
There are lots of directions such a question could take you. For me, I end up feeling that it's just somehow unfair that we would be expected to recognize Jesus today. Seriously, if some guy came up to you at the mall, or on the bus, and said, "Hi, I'm the son of God" would you ever consider that maybe he really is? And if not, are you a bad person?
I hope that the answer is that what matters is how you live your life and treat other people. But these days, I know fewer and fewer answers.
The interesting thing? About all this religion stuff? The more I think about it, the more I read and listen and try to study, the more questions I get. Not answers -- questions. I guess as long as the questions are this intriguing to me, I'm doing okay. I just sure hope there's not a test on all this.
Happy Sunday, everybody.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Lazy Saturday
Well, a lot of people accomplished a lot of things today. Some people accomplished 26.2 things, others, 13.1 . . . miles, that is. Today was marathon/mini day here in Louisville, which meant I had to get up at 6:00 a.m. to take Todd for bike patrol duty.
I briefly had big thoughts of doing grocery shopping, cleaning house, and generally being productive while all those people were being so industrious. But, in the end, I came back home and slept. Even Sam and Penny slept.
Ah, the lazy Saturday. There's not much better. A good book and some bad TV, and that's really all a body needs. I did actually do the grocery shopping, but at a much more humane hour. And, I managed to work in an afternoon nap. I feel so accomplished!
Big Saturday evening plans include two of my dad's steaks, a bottle of wine, and some outdoor knitting (if I'm feeling up to it after the day's strenuous events). Since I hope to post the occasional fun recipe, I thought I'd start with our summertime favorite: garbage potatoes. Not a recipe, really, which is why it's perfect for the laziest of Saturday nights. I think tonight, ours will use some of the blue cheese I bought at Costco . . . yum!
Garbage Potatoes
Red potatoes
Sour Cream
Garbage*
Cut the potatoes into cubes, boil and drain. Add in sour cream to taste and your garbage. Stir together. I recommend stirring rather "vigorously" so the potatoes are sort of "semi-mashed". I always add lots of salt and pepper at the end.
*Garbage includes anything in your fridge you want to get rid of. Shopping specifically for garbage potato ingredients is discouraged and sometimes laughed at, but I confess to doing it to produce the perfect garbage potatoes. Some of the best "garbage" are shredded cheese, green onions, bacon crumbles, salsa, horseradish, garlic, etc., etc., etc.
I briefly had big thoughts of doing grocery shopping, cleaning house, and generally being productive while all those people were being so industrious. But, in the end, I came back home and slept. Even Sam and Penny slept.
Ah, the lazy Saturday. There's not much better. A good book and some bad TV, and that's really all a body needs. I did actually do the grocery shopping, but at a much more humane hour. And, I managed to work in an afternoon nap. I feel so accomplished!
Big Saturday evening plans include two of my dad's steaks, a bottle of wine, and some outdoor knitting (if I'm feeling up to it after the day's strenuous events). Since I hope to post the occasional fun recipe, I thought I'd start with our summertime favorite: garbage potatoes. Not a recipe, really, which is why it's perfect for the laziest of Saturday nights. I think tonight, ours will use some of the blue cheese I bought at Costco . . . yum!
Garbage Potatoes
Red potatoes
Sour Cream
Garbage*
Cut the potatoes into cubes, boil and drain. Add in sour cream to taste and your garbage. Stir together. I recommend stirring rather "vigorously" so the potatoes are sort of "semi-mashed". I always add lots of salt and pepper at the end.
*Garbage includes anything in your fridge you want to get rid of. Shopping specifically for garbage potato ingredients is discouraged and sometimes laughed at, but I confess to doing it to produce the perfect garbage potatoes. Some of the best "garbage" are shredded cheese, green onions, bacon crumbles, salsa, horseradish, garlic, etc., etc., etc.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Footnote
I thought, with a whopping three posts under my blog-belt, that I should post some explanation of the title of my blog.
"Around the Subject" is the title of a poem I wrote in college. Back then, I believed in this poem a lot. I think I sent it off to a few contests and journals, but no luck. Recently I found a folder full of my college and high school poems. Believe me, most of them were good only for a big ol' belly laugh. This one, however, I still kind of like, and I like what I meant when I wrote it.
I remember that I wasn't really writing this poem with any particular person in mind. It isn't about a boyfriend or a family member or anything like that. I was just thinking about how rarely we feel able to speak our minds with other people -- how we are mostly circling aimlessly around whatever it is we want and need to be saying.
So, it became the title of this blog. I think that's a good enough excuse to do a bit of shameless self-publishing (better than self-medicating, don't you think?).
Around the Subject
We can dance like no one else.
Fingers entwined,
Your hand in the small of my back,
We delicately place one foot
In front of another,
Matching our steps to blue plastic feet
Stuck to the ground.
If we stumble I will laugh
You will bite your lip,
Then remember to smile.
It is only a dance,
A set of rules that tell us
Where to step,
Where to place our hands.
"Around the Subject" is the title of a poem I wrote in college. Back then, I believed in this poem a lot. I think I sent it off to a few contests and journals, but no luck. Recently I found a folder full of my college and high school poems. Believe me, most of them were good only for a big ol' belly laugh. This one, however, I still kind of like, and I like what I meant when I wrote it.
I remember that I wasn't really writing this poem with any particular person in mind. It isn't about a boyfriend or a family member or anything like that. I was just thinking about how rarely we feel able to speak our minds with other people -- how we are mostly circling aimlessly around whatever it is we want and need to be saying.
So, it became the title of this blog. I think that's a good enough excuse to do a bit of shameless self-publishing (better than self-medicating, don't you think?).
Around the Subject
We can dance like no one else.
Fingers entwined,
Your hand in the small of my back,
We delicately place one foot
In front of another,
Matching our steps to blue plastic feet
Stuck to the ground.
If we stumble I will laugh
You will bite your lip,
Then remember to smile.
It is only a dance,
A set of rules that tell us
Where to step,
Where to place our hands.
The Dog Ate My Blog
Whew! It's finally Friday, and oops -- I haven't posted all week. It's been a very long, angst-filled week for some reason.
Source of Angst #1:
As I mentioned last time, we went to Thunder on Saturday. It was fine, big loud fireworks, etc, (but why, oh why, can't the "theme" and the music and the fireworks actually go together in some way?) . . . then the trip home. We planned to take the bus home, thinking it would be quicker and less painful. Wrong, very wrong.
It took two and a half hours to get home. Two and a half hours of sitting on a bus listening to some young corporate type describe himself -- rather sniffily, if you know what I mean -- as a "litigator." Two and a half hours of a guy describing the "big ol' pork chop sandwich" he had at the Chow Wagon. Two and a half hours of an elderly woman earnestly advising several young Indian guys to "learn as much as possible about our culture and take it back to your homeland."
Yeah. I don't see myself going back to Thunder next year. In fact, we are planning a camping trip for Derby weekend.
Source of Angst #2:
Penny the Wonder Puppy is nearly fully recovered from her long and protracted illness. The good side of this is that she can finally act like a normal healthy puppy. The bad side? She can finally act like a normal healthy puppy.
She's a bit . . . um . . . crazy. I remember that we thought she had a "strong personality" which would help her when encountering the craziness of Sam the Best Dog Ever. This was right. Please note, however, that Sam wasn't called Sam the Best Dog Ever until we had the chance to compare his behavior to Penny's.
The barking. And the biting -- chewing, to be more exact. And the poo. Good lord, the poo. It is extremely lucky for her that she is extraordinarily cute and loveable.
Source of Angst #3:
I found an ad for a Very Exciting Job Opening in Utopia, USA (Portland, OR, for those not keeping up). I want that Very Exciting Job. Unfortunately, I very much doubt that I am In Any Way Qualified. So I'm trying to pimp Todd out for it. He is not as Excited as I am.
Source of Angst #4:
The crafting mojo is failing me. The Christmas Stocking is coming along nicely, or it was until I went to my knitting group last night and got it all jacked up. Knitting and knitting group don't always go very well together. And the It Dress is totally stalled. My velvet is, according to Claudia, "warped" and has to be stretched back into its proper position. Blech.
I'm thinking of starting a quilt. Did I mention I have a Craft Room in my house now? This means I must fill the Craft Room with various kinds of crafts in various stages of completion, lest Todd decide that it is actually an Exercise Room.
Anyway . . . it's Friday, and this is a major Angst-ender. Big plans for the weekend include buying a notebook for my Artist's Way morning pages and a timer for my 8-Minute Meditation (see sidebar of Books I am Reading). Ah . . . self-improvement.
Source of Angst #1:
As I mentioned last time, we went to Thunder on Saturday. It was fine, big loud fireworks, etc, (but why, oh why, can't the "theme" and the music and the fireworks actually go together in some way?) . . . then the trip home. We planned to take the bus home, thinking it would be quicker and less painful. Wrong, very wrong.
It took two and a half hours to get home. Two and a half hours of sitting on a bus listening to some young corporate type describe himself -- rather sniffily, if you know what I mean -- as a "litigator." Two and a half hours of a guy describing the "big ol' pork chop sandwich" he had at the Chow Wagon. Two and a half hours of an elderly woman earnestly advising several young Indian guys to "learn as much as possible about our culture and take it back to your homeland."
Yeah. I don't see myself going back to Thunder next year. In fact, we are planning a camping trip for Derby weekend.
Source of Angst #2:
Penny the Wonder Puppy is nearly fully recovered from her long and protracted illness. The good side of this is that she can finally act like a normal healthy puppy. The bad side? She can finally act like a normal healthy puppy.
She's a bit . . . um . . . crazy. I remember that we thought she had a "strong personality" which would help her when encountering the craziness of Sam the Best Dog Ever. This was right. Please note, however, that Sam wasn't called Sam the Best Dog Ever until we had the chance to compare his behavior to Penny's.
The barking. And the biting -- chewing, to be more exact. And the poo. Good lord, the poo. It is extremely lucky for her that she is extraordinarily cute and loveable.
Source of Angst #3:
I found an ad for a Very Exciting Job Opening in Utopia, USA (Portland, OR, for those not keeping up). I want that Very Exciting Job. Unfortunately, I very much doubt that I am In Any Way Qualified. So I'm trying to pimp Todd out for it. He is not as Excited as I am.
Source of Angst #4:
The crafting mojo is failing me. The Christmas Stocking is coming along nicely, or it was until I went to my knitting group last night and got it all jacked up. Knitting and knitting group don't always go very well together. And the It Dress is totally stalled. My velvet is, according to Claudia, "warped" and has to be stretched back into its proper position. Blech.
I'm thinking of starting a quilt. Did I mention I have a Craft Room in my house now? This means I must fill the Craft Room with various kinds of crafts in various stages of completion, lest Todd decide that it is actually an Exercise Room.
Anyway . . . it's Friday, and this is a major Angst-ender. Big plans for the weekend include buying a notebook for my Artist's Way morning pages and a timer for my 8-Minute Meditation (see sidebar of Books I am Reading). Ah . . . self-improvement.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
A Top Ten List
Today is the official start of the Kentucky Derby Festival, which means Thunder over Louisville, and big, bodacious traffic jams. The weather has also decided to cooperate, and it's beautiful and sunny, which even I can admit, and I'm not the most sun-loving person around.
One thing I do like to do in such weather is go to restaurants where we can eat outside. Unfortunately, we were reminded last night of the shortage of such places in Louisville. After a few tries, we ended up back inside, just like it was still winter.
This coincided with big major conversation about What We Should Do With Our Lives, and to some extent, Where We Should Do Whatever It Is We Should Do With Our Lives. We go back and forth a lot about this town as opposed to all the other towns in the world -- at least I do. I lived in the same spot for my first eighteen years, a spot that I never stopped hating, and I think it left me with the ol' itchy feet.
So I'm thinking about this: what is it that makes a place THE place you want to be? Forever, no less. All our joking about Utopia (AKA Portland, OR) aside, what make some places the places you live and others the places you go for vacation? And why doesn't everyone live in the places you go for vacation? (I also wonder why, if everyone likes the weekend better than the week, we don't make the weekend 5 days and the week 2. But I digress.)
Here's what I want in my own personal Utopia (in no particular order):
1. Liberals. I want to live in a blue state. I'm tired of my vote not counting for diddly, and of having to say, "but I'm a Democrat, really!" when I say I'm from Kentucky.
2. Trader Joe's. I keep hearing about all the fabulous stuff one can buy at this place and it's just about to drive me crazy. And while we're at it -- Ikea.
3. Mass transit. I've been thrown from a car twice. 'Nuff said.
4. A shotgun house. With a yard for Sam the Best Dog Ever and Penny the Wonder Puppy. Oh, and enough sunlight to grow tomatoes.
5. A thriving arts scene. Bring on the orchestra, the local theatre and the gallery hops. Poetry readings optional but encouraged.
6. Cool restaurants. Ethnic ones. Cheap hole in the wall ones. And Greek ones. Why are there no Greek restaurants in Louisville?
7. Crime. Yes, crime. We're a two-lawyer family, it's a necessity.
8. A non-corrupt judicial system. (Hey, I said Utopia, and I mean Utopia.)
9. Cool churches. Presbyterian beliefs with Unitarian interests. Even for those who haven't joined the Mommy brigade.
10. Safe bike paths. Because wherever Utopia is, Todd has to be, too.
Some of those things are here in Louisville, I know. And if pushed, living where Todd lives is more important to me than living in Utopia. I guess I'm just not ready to say yet that I will live in Louisville forever, just because I've lived here for the past five years. And if I do live here forever, I want it to be because we decided to, not because we just, well . . . did.
Anyway. Today, we live in Louisville. And it is the start of the Derby Festival. So tonight, we're off to the fireworks and the Chow Wagon (yum!).
Oh, and how stoked am I that I finally got a great haircut? Props to Sarah at Hair Strobel, and to Annie for the recommendation!
One thing I do like to do in such weather is go to restaurants where we can eat outside. Unfortunately, we were reminded last night of the shortage of such places in Louisville. After a few tries, we ended up back inside, just like it was still winter.
This coincided with big major conversation about What We Should Do With Our Lives, and to some extent, Where We Should Do Whatever It Is We Should Do With Our Lives. We go back and forth a lot about this town as opposed to all the other towns in the world -- at least I do. I lived in the same spot for my first eighteen years, a spot that I never stopped hating, and I think it left me with the ol' itchy feet.
So I'm thinking about this: what is it that makes a place THE place you want to be? Forever, no less. All our joking about Utopia (AKA Portland, OR) aside, what make some places the places you live and others the places you go for vacation? And why doesn't everyone live in the places you go for vacation? (I also wonder why, if everyone likes the weekend better than the week, we don't make the weekend 5 days and the week 2. But I digress.)
Here's what I want in my own personal Utopia (in no particular order):
1. Liberals. I want to live in a blue state. I'm tired of my vote not counting for diddly, and of having to say, "but I'm a Democrat, really!" when I say I'm from Kentucky.
2. Trader Joe's. I keep hearing about all the fabulous stuff one can buy at this place and it's just about to drive me crazy. And while we're at it -- Ikea.
3. Mass transit. I've been thrown from a car twice. 'Nuff said.
4. A shotgun house. With a yard for Sam the Best Dog Ever and Penny the Wonder Puppy. Oh, and enough sunlight to grow tomatoes.
5. A thriving arts scene. Bring on the orchestra, the local theatre and the gallery hops. Poetry readings optional but encouraged.
6. Cool restaurants. Ethnic ones. Cheap hole in the wall ones. And Greek ones. Why are there no Greek restaurants in Louisville?
7. Crime. Yes, crime. We're a two-lawyer family, it's a necessity.
8. A non-corrupt judicial system. (Hey, I said Utopia, and I mean Utopia.)
9. Cool churches. Presbyterian beliefs with Unitarian interests. Even for those who haven't joined the Mommy brigade.
10. Safe bike paths. Because wherever Utopia is, Todd has to be, too.
Some of those things are here in Louisville, I know. And if pushed, living where Todd lives is more important to me than living in Utopia. I guess I'm just not ready to say yet that I will live in Louisville forever, just because I've lived here for the past five years. And if I do live here forever, I want it to be because we decided to, not because we just, well . . . did.
Anyway. Today, we live in Louisville. And it is the start of the Derby Festival. So tonight, we're off to the fireworks and the Chow Wagon (yum!).
Oh, and how stoked am I that I finally got a great haircut? Props to Sarah at Hair Strobel, and to Annie for the recommendation!
Friday, April 20, 2007
If Everybody Jumped Off a Bridge . . .
. . . apparently, I would, too! I'm jumping on the blog bandwagon, arriving late to the blog party, etc., etc. I think I have stuff to say, and this seems like as good a place as any to say it.
So . . . who am I? I'm just me, really. I'm a thirtysomething lawyer, married to another thirtysomething lawyer, raising two dogs and two cats. At home, I knit, crochet and sew, enjoy cooking way too much, practice my musical instruments way too little, and generally stew about the state of the world.
In my younger days, (ah, the joys of being a twentysomething . . . ) I aspired to be a writer. I can remember confidently saying that I planned to publish my first novel by the time I was 25. Um . . . not so much. In fact, I have realized that the older I get, the more satisified with my life I am, the less motivation I have to actually sit down and write. But part of me still has the itch. Maybe this forum will help.
Another change as I get older? I am much more . . . "proud," maybe? . . . or, let's say, "sassy" . . . about my liberal, wanna-be activist leanings. (Of course, I realize that a "wanna-be" activist is one of the silliest things ever to be. How the hell can one be a passive activist? Yeah, it doesn't really work.) I need an outlet for the occasional, leftist rant.
Overall, I have a pretty good life. It seems appropriate to talk about it, so that's what I'm gonna do. If anybody wants to come along for the ride, so much the better.
So . . . who am I? I'm just me, really. I'm a thirtysomething lawyer, married to another thirtysomething lawyer, raising two dogs and two cats. At home, I knit, crochet and sew, enjoy cooking way too much, practice my musical instruments way too little, and generally stew about the state of the world.
In my younger days, (ah, the joys of being a twentysomething . . . ) I aspired to be a writer. I can remember confidently saying that I planned to publish my first novel by the time I was 25. Um . . . not so much. In fact, I have realized that the older I get, the more satisified with my life I am, the less motivation I have to actually sit down and write. But part of me still has the itch. Maybe this forum will help.
Another change as I get older? I am much more . . . "proud," maybe? . . . or, let's say, "sassy" . . . about my liberal, wanna-be activist leanings. (Of course, I realize that a "wanna-be" activist is one of the silliest things ever to be. How the hell can one be a passive activist? Yeah, it doesn't really work.) I need an outlet for the occasional, leftist rant.
Overall, I have a pretty good life. It seems appropriate to talk about it, so that's what I'm gonna do. If anybody wants to come along for the ride, so much the better.
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