Friday Fripperies Go Thoughtful

Have you ever gotten one of those oh-so-sappy e-cards, for your birthday or some such event? If so, I bet it wasn't this one:



HA! I love it! E-cards that are actually cool. Actually, I saw a sort of cool Halloween one at the Kentucky Prosecutor's Conference which simulated having a stalker. Creepy, but cool. (I'm sort of annoyed that no one's ever taken the time to stalk me. What, am I not stalker-worthy?) I don't know where that one came from, but this site is my new favorite place for e-cards.

I should send this one to my office-mate who took the LSAT a few months ago:


Hell, I should send this one to just about everyone I know:



I'll just chalk these up as yet another thing I wish I'd thought of first. Happy sending, everybody!

I Know When I'm Being Ganged Up On

I'm eating dinner tonight, and I have a few yummy bites of meatloaf, maybe a smidge of mashed potato, and a couple sips of homemade beer left. It's an all-around pleasant end to an all-around pleasant family dinner.

Then, THIS one:

decides she has waited long enough and proceeds to start "improperly eliminating."

I yell, "Stop!" (which she does), jump up, slap the leash on her and run out the door. Todd followed me out.

So I'm standing in the yard, waiting for Penny to finish up what she had only just started, and I look in the window into my house, and see THIS one:

with his paws on the table, finishing my dinner.

Penny might get off with a misdemeanor, seeing as how she was just a facilitator, but I'm thinking Sam's getting some serious time for this one.

Look at him! He doesn't even have the nerve to look sorry!

Conspiracy, I tell you . . . conspiracy.

Reasons to Use the Value-Market Delivery Service

For some reason, going to the neighborhood Kroger is often more . . . shall we say . . . interesting -- than it should be.

There was the time the clerk yelled down the check out line at me, "Hey, you used to be my Public Defender! You really got me off!"

Then there was the time the shoplifters blew past me to get out the door with their cart-load of DVDs and the security guy hit ME with the mace.

Then today, I'm trying to pay for my clementines and milk and the clerk announces to me (and everyone else within a fifty foot radius):

"I THINK I HAVE A TAPEWORM!"

All-righty, then.

A Sad Loss

I just found out that Kentucky's first African-American Supreme Court Justice, William E. McAnulty, Jr., died last night after being diagnosed with lung cancer just a few months ago, in June. He was 59 years old.

I feel so sad about this. I would never claim to know Justice McAnulty personally, but I did have the opportunity to meet him. When I was in law school, I did a brief stint in his office (he was on the Court of Appeals at that time) to fulfill the public service requirements for graduation.

He was nice to me. He was an important figure in the Kentucky judiciary, and he took a few moments to sit with me, informally, and talk to me about what I was interested in, and what kind of career I hoped to have. He seemed to actually care what I had to say. He had a wicked sense of humor.

Justice McAnulty was one of the good guys. My heart goes out to his family and friends, along with my prayers.

Friday Fripperies Go Yellow!

Friday fripperies return today (even though it's still a little bit of Thursday as I'm writing this) with this bit of fun stuff:

Simpsonize me!

I happen to be married to a big-time Simpsons fan, so much so that we just HAD to eat at Burger King while on vacation. (He said it was because all the other restaurants in that town looked "sketchy," but I don't think I believe him.)

Here's the lovely mister, a la Homer:





And me!:




Fun stuff, that. Happy Friday!

Some Ramblings, and a Book Review in Pictures

So much of my life has been defined by books.




I remember when Sunday was the longest day ever, because it was the day the public library was closed, so there was no hope of convincing anyone to take me there.

I remember that my mom bought me all the Judy Blume books, even when they were banned in most libraries (although she wouldn't let me give them to my friends for Christmas, in case their parents didn't approve).

I remember the third grade, when I had to have surgery on my tongue (no, I'm not kidding), and this horrifying prospect was made bearable by the fact that I got to buy three -- count 'em, three! -- new books for the hospital stay.

Do you ever find yourself thinking about someone you used to know, and about something they said or did, and then realizing they are not someone you know at all, but a character in a favorite book? I do that ALL the time, and it's weird, I tell you. I cull through my collection at least once a year, but there are many, many books that I will keep forever, because getting rid of them would be like losing a part of my family.

Today, I was finally able to talk to a good friend about my most favorite book in the whole world, The Sparrow. If you have read and liked this book, I consider you an immediate friend, the kind of person I can have a serious conversation with. I think everyone in the world should read it. It makes my chest kind of ache to remember it. I've threatened to make reading it a condition of probation in all the cases I prosecute. (I swear, one day I'll do it, so watch out, criminal underbelly of Louisville.)

All of that to say this: I read a fabulous book while I was on vacation, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. It made my chest ache a little, too. And since I finished it, the characters are still with me, just hanging out, in my head. It was just magical, and beautiful, and I think will always remind me of the magical and beautiful places I went.

This picture reminds me of the book:



And so does this one:



And this one (in a scary kind of way):




Anyway, just read it. Or read The Sparrow. Or read whatever it is you like to read, even if it's -- gasp! -- non-fiction. You'll be just ever-so-slightly different afterwards; and you'll have a whole slew of new friends.

Vacation, Phase Four: Lake Placid

To wind up our whirlwind, two-country tour, Todd and I spent our last two nights of vacation in Lake Placid.



Todd took the opportunity to do some fishing -- the serious kind that requires "waders" and "flies" and other, unidentifiable stuff. I asked him if he felt like Brad Pitt in A River Runs Through It. If you haven't seen that movie, (and I highly recommend it) it sort of implies that bait fishing is for Baptists, and fly-fishing is reserved for Presbyterians. Since he's married to a Presbyterian, I guess it works out.



(Speaking of religion, some drunk guy on the plane home asked me if I was a Mormon. When I said no, he said, "well, you know, because you're reading.")

While Todd was fishing and being otherwise active, I was doing some serious sleeping-in, reading (like a Mormon), and wandering around the town.

Once I had been sufficiently lazy, we ended the trip with a drive up to Whiteface Mountain, where they did the ski jumps for said Olympics. The drive up there was a bit harrowing for me -- I don't do too well with heights, and if you know me at all, you also know that I don't do too well with driving.

But the drive was NOTHING -- nothing, I tell you, to the "short" walk up to the peak. I'll give them the "short" part; it's only about a fifth of a mile, according to the sign. But that fifth is STRAIGHT FUCKING UP (sorry, Mom) and on uneven rock steps with only the flimsiest of flimsy guard rails to keep you from tumbling over the side.

Well. I made it about a fifth of that fifth of a mile, then my legs started shaking so bad I thought they might shake me off the mountain, and I freaked out and cried to Todd, "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS AT ALL!" Then I turned around and crept -- yes, crept -- down the steps and walked as close to the mountain side as I could all the way to the elevator.

Yes, folks, there's an elevator to the top. Just especially for big ol' chickens like me. The view was lovely; well worth the elevator trip. (Nothing is worth those steps.)




And that was all. Lickety-split, vacation was over. I have to say it was a good one.



Tomorrow it's back to the old grind. I'll have to start taking some pretty pictures of Louisville, just to keep the blog from looking dreary.