Never Been Lived Before

Big Law: Real Estate Heartache, part 4: Less Heartache (v. More Headache)

2012-01-29T19:37:00.001-05:00

Z closed on the house recently. The sales price is public information, and it took no effort at all to discover that she paid nearly $65,000 above the asking price. In some small way it helps to alleviate my heartache to know that I would not have gotten the house even if I had made an offer, because I would not have offered that much. I had been carrying around my ficticious offer number in my head, but it was not that number.

Thus, now seems the appropriate time to present to you part 2 of the More Headache v. Less Heartache: Why Walking Away From this House was the Best Decision I've Ever Made series. Part 1 can be found here.

Part 2: Less Heartache

Time and again, I take consolation in just two things when I am pining away for the house. These things are, simply, (1) time, and (2) money.

Time: My life is relatively uncomplicated compared to many (read, I have no children to tend to). However, my time feels no less scarce. My professional life is very important to me. I want to do well in my career. I want to become a leader within my firm and my field. This requires that my job is, on most days, my top priority.

In my first couple of years as an associate, I could make my job my top priority and still end up with a smidgeon of evening time and my entire weekend at my disposal. But I've learned that this changes as you move up the associate ladder. As your knowledge and skill level increases, so does the work.  More complex work. Work that requires issue spotting and problem solving, rather than mere execution of the solutions that others have already developed for the issues they've already spotted.

I've also learned that important to becoming highly regarded within one's firm is becoming highly regarded outside of one's firm. Two years ago, while a second year associate, I made it a New Years resolution to become nominated to a bar association committee. By the end of that year, I was on three committees. These are very rewarding, but can also require several hours of work each week. I've recently begun to receive invitations to present at continuing education programs. These are wonderful opportunties for a variety of reasons, but require dozens of hours of work. As a result, I've worked at least one day nearly every weekend beginning this past summer, and currently log the third highest hours of any associate in my firm. My average work day is 12 hours, and when I arrive home around 10pm each night, I am brain dead. I eat the dinner GF has made for me, watch some simple minded television in an attempt to decompress, and crawl into bed. On weekends I go the gym, clean the apartment, run my errands, and do laundry and ironing.  I try to find a few hours on top of all of that to do something fun.  Because it is important to have a little adventure in one's life.

So while there is a big part of me that loves the idea of owning a neglected old house, lovingly restoring it to its original glory, and ultimately ending up with a home that will be exactly what I want it to be because I've made all of the decisions all along the way, in reality, I don't have the time.  Moreover, to a certain degree, my sanity hinges on coming home to a pretty and clean apartment, in which I can relax at the end of the long workday. I enjoy working on home improvement projects, but not to the exclusion of being able to come home to an environment where the weight of the day can slowly melt away. If every night I was confronted with a house that needed to be rehabbed from top to bottom and from inside out, I would be leaving a long office to-do list only to step into an even longer home to-do list. A home to-do list with no time to accomplish anything on it. For me, that is the equivalent of stepping out of the anxiety frying pan and into the anxiety fire.

Money: I don't want to be so house poor that I must give up the quality of life that I have worked so hard to achieve (notwithstanding the long work days). I traded a successul first career where I made a comfortable living to embark on a new career with the potential to make an even better living. College, graduate school and law school required a series of years that add up to a nearly decade-long ramen noodle lifestyle. Paying off my undergraduate, graduate and law school student loans required several more years of a speghetti and jar sauce lifestyle. I finally have a little bit of financial wiggle room again. I can finally go on vacations again. Like the few days I spent in beautiful St. Augustine, Florida earlier this month.

Sunset over St. Augustine from the Lions Bridge, Sunday, January 15, 2012

And I can finally make non-essential purchases without having to study an Excel spread sheet to figure out what I can trim from my budget to pay for it. Like this lovely yellow bag and matching wallet that caught my eye last month.

Hobo International's "Florence" line

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I still hope to purchase a house sometime in the next several months. But a different house. A house that, although it might need some work, will still allow me the time and money to live the life that I am lucky enough to now live.

Big Law: Love Is...

2012-01-26T08:11:00.000-05:00

Love is...sharing a printer.

I don't have my own printer at work. I share with Assigning Partner.

One recent evening, Assigning Partner busted into my office and declared, "Now that I am done being apoplectic, I can show this to you."

In her hand was an email sent to and printed from a a generically named personal email account. The email began, "Congratulations, you have been selected for an interview at Other Big Law Firm."

Assigning Partner thought that the email belonged to me, seeing how we share the printer, and ran down the hall to another partner's office all, well, "apoplectic".

It wasn't mine. But it is nice to know one is appreciated.

(Turns out the email belonged to a temp secretary that we all really like and would like to be able to find a permanent position for.)

Monks Wear Birkenstocks

2012-01-16T17:00:00.003-05:00

We already know that nuns wear Tevas.

Now we also know that monks wear Birkenstocks.

Ugh

2012-01-14T17:00:00.003-05:00

I am not a huge fan of Uggs. I know that I am in the minority here, but so be it.

It looks like they are not going away anytime soon. Uggs have had the lock on the undergrad girl market for some years. Apparently they are trying to lure the club kid contingent now also.

Character

2012-01-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

There are so many interesting people in this world. I only wish that I was fast enough with my camera to capture all of my surprise encounters with them. For example, there is the guy who commutes to his job in downtown Pretty Big City on his unicycle. Though I have seen him several times, I never have my camera at the ready.

Fortunately, in this case, while disembarking my plane, a large red flower in what I presume to be a platinum wig caught my eye, and I was just fast enough.

Big Law: Awkward

2012-01-10T00:05:00.001-05:00

Each year, a very large conference of practitioners in my practice area gather in a warm state to discuss the latest developments in the law, network and eat at expensive restaurants. Each year my practice group sends one person. The partners are all "been there, done that", or so I thought, so they began rotating attendance among the associates. I figured that it would be another couple of years before the opportunity came my way, but a few months ago I was asked if I wanted to be the one to attend this year.

Hhhhhm, you want to send me to summer weather for a week in the depths of winter? Twist my arm.

Recently I was in Senior Partner's office and he asked if I could join him in a certain client meeting. When I told him that I would be out of town and at the conference, his face fell. "I've never been to that conference. Why didn't they ask me?"

Uh.... Super awkward.

The Excitement of Box Seats

2011-12-27T22:16:00.001-05:00

Pretty Big City is home to a certain old theatre that has been an iconic music venue for at least 3 decades. This fall, the Airborne Toxic Event played this particular theatre for the first time. They were super excited.

So excited that the lead singer climbed onto his giant speakers, and jumped just high enough to be able to grab a railing and scale the theatre's box seats, and finally leap into the mezzanine, all while singing. The theatre's security personnel found that to be super exciting!

Merry Christmas (Cupcake)!

2011-12-25T17:00:00.001-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

O Christmas Tree, 2011

2011-12-24T15:53:00.001-05:00

We almost didn't do it this year--put up a Christmas tree that is. Our schedules have been so busy--me working six day weeks and not getting home until 10 or 11pm on weeknights, and GF working normal hours but then having various extra curriculars almost every evening. And we both leave town for Christmas, so we were afraid that we wouldn't have time to decorate or even be around to enjoy a tree.

But even if we only have it lit for the hour or so each night between coming in the door and crawling into bed, it makes the apartment smell darn good. And there's something so soothing about those twinkling lights.

When I was a little girl, I was careful to give each of my stuffed animals an equal amount of attention--I didn't want any of them to feel left out. Now, as an adult, I anthropomorphize my Christmas ornaments. The result is that all of my ornaments must go on the tree. GF thinks I am nuts, but she indulges me.

The front of the tree boasts the prettiest ornaments. Like these handblown glass balls that I purchased last year post-Christmas to give as gifts this year. Want to guess how many I gave away and how many are now on my own tree?

The front of the tree is also home to some of my favorite ornaments from my childhood. Like this sweet soft angel.

And of course, the elf in the gold lame leisure suit continues to warrant a prime spot. He loves being the center of attention.

The back of my tree, however, is the ornament equivalent of the Land of Misfit Toys. Its inhabitants largely consist of those ornaments from my childhood that I loved, loved, loved as a kid, but haven't really withstood the test of time.

Like my insane witch angel, for example.

She used to be a rock and roll angel, and held a golden guitar between her outstretched hands. My brother had a sister rock and roll angel dressed in a deep red dress, and together they would put on rock concerts. Now guitarless and estranged from her mate, my angel has descended into madness. Today she owns 130 cats and kids dare one another to step foot into her front lawn. She's a hot mess. But she still deserves a spot on the back of the Christmas tree.

Also on the back of my tree you will find Pinky, Rudolph's lesser known albino cousin. He actually prefers the back of the tree--his skin and eyes being so sensitive and all. Well, "eye"--Pinky suffered a terrible accident some years back, and now he's blind and eyelashless in his left eye.

Since the accident, Pinky has a tendency to veer to the right when walking or flying, so he's no longer able to participate in Santa's Christmas Eve journeys. But his injury hasn't otherwise affected his quality of life. In fact, I know that its been a really good night on the Christmas tree when in the morning I find this.

Happy holidays everyone!

Big Law: Real Estate Heartache, part 3: More Headache (v. Less Heartache)

2011-12-23T02:01:00.006-05:00

Z signed the purchase and sale agreement for the house this past weekend. Of course, CM and Butterflyfish are very probably right--this house has a good chance of becoming more of a headache for Z than it is a heartache for me. Nevertheless, I'm still working my way through the stages of grief, so forgive and indulge me.  In an effort to fully convince myself that walking away from this house was the best decision I've ever made, I offer you More Headache v. Less Heartache: Why Walking Away From this House was the Best Decision I've Ever Made, a 2-Part Series.

Part 1: More Headache

I'm going to start with More Headache because let's face it, when we are feeling bad sometimes the thing most effective at making us feel better is fantasizing how the antagonists in our story are someday going to have it much, much worse. My antagonists, of course, are Z and her handy boyfriend. And I have fantasized a great many headaches on their behalf, including the following:

The tension headache:  Generally, a "winning" offer on a house is going to be the highest offer made, right? Once I gave this a little thought, I decided that Z and the handy boyfriend's winning offer really means that they are simply paying too much. This house was swarming with people during the open house. Hundreds of them--a number of whom were clearly developers and contractors. It seems likely that some of these folks made offers too--but lower offers. Offers founded in an experience-based estimate of the cost of the needed renovations.

Yep, there is no way around it--Z and the handy boyfriend are overpaying. Novices.

The cluster headache: When I was considering this house, I had to face the fact that it needed a minimum of 6 months of renovations. That's 6 months with a contractor--not 6 months of DIY evening and weekend projects. I also had to face the fact that many of these jobs were big, messy and even hazardous, and really should be done while the place is empty--gutting the kitchen and bathrooms, scraping lead paint, replastering walls and ceilings, refinishing the wood floors, likely asbestos removal, etc. So imagine my surprise when Z told me that she and the handy boyfriend think that they will renovate for a month before moving in. A month! And imagine my even greater surprise when Z told me that in that month they plan to do the kitchen and at least one other room.  Did I mention that the kitchen needs to be gutted?  This entails tearing up linoleum (possible asbestos), installing a new floor over the subfloor, deinstalling the drop ceiling (more possible asbestos), rerouting the electrical that currently runs in the space between the drop and the real ceiling, repairing the plaster walls and ceiling, and, oh, I almost forgot, new light fixtures, cabinets, sink and appliances. I'm by no means an expert, but 4 weeks for all that? It seems optimistic, yes? And frankly, it also seems short-sighted to tackle some of these jobs on a room-by-room basis.

And yes, this is when I revert to the "anger" stage of the grieving process. Because this house deserves more than another piecemeal, budget renovation. And if Z and the handy boyfriend can't afford to do it, they should have walked away too. Novices.

The migraine: Finally, you should know that despite obviously having spent way too much time and emotional energy engaged in an internal battle with myself over all of this, I have have spoken very little with Z about her plans for the house. I did ask how the inspection went though. She said that although several issues came to light, they were planning to move ahead. I didn't want to seem like I was prying, so my only follow up inquiry was to ask what the asbestos testing revealed. Again, we're talking about an 1890 house with layers of linoleum, suspended ceiling in several rooms, and God knows what in terms of insulation. "Oh, we decided not to do the asbestos testing," Z replied.

Perhaps she made it through torts without ever hearing of mesothelioma? Novices.

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Stay tuned for Part 2: Less Heartache.

Big Law: Bless You

2011-12-17T18:36:00.003-05:00

Some of you may remember that I have an in with a group of cloistured nuns. And each Christmas they bake and send me homemade cookies. Nun-made cookies! How great is that?

GF and I aren't big cookie eaters, so each year, instead of taking the tin home, I grab a favorite and then send out a department-wide email. The nuns have gained reknown over the last couple of years for making the season's best cookies and within minutes my colleagues are flocking.

But this year, Witty Partner was the fastest of them all. And the most prepared. Just moments after my email he appeared outside my office door, a sheepish look on his face and a piece of tin foil in his hand.

"I am going to take more than my fair share," he said. "This is only religious infusion my family gets all year."

Big Law: Ew

2011-12-15T23:23:00.001-05:00

Senior Partner informs his secretary of his whereabouts every time he steps away from his desk.

"Alice, I am going out to get a sandwich. I'll have my Blackberry if you need me."

"Alice, I am going to Juliet's office. I'll have my Blackberry if you need me."

"Alice, I am going to the vending machine. I'll have my Blackberry if you need me."

This drives his secretary, and everyone else within earshot, insane.

But most colorful are the several times each day when he announces,

"Alice, I'm going to the bathroom. I'll have my Blackberry if you need me."

Ew.

Autumn In Red

2011-12-11T00:32:00.000-05:00

Big Law: Real Estate Heartache, part 2

2011-12-08T13:43:00.001-05:00

Z just came by to tell me that her offer on the house was accepted. The inspection is forthcoming.

*sigh*

Big Law: Real Estate Heartache

2011-12-04T21:38:00.002-05:00

I want a house.

I grew up in a divorced family. My father, a dead beat dad. My mother, a nurse struggling to raise 2 kids on her own where money was always tight. After the divorce, we couldn't afford a house, so we lived in apartments and moved around several times before I reached highschool. It doesn't take a psychotherapist to figure out why as an adult I long for a house of my own.

But Pretty Big City real estate comes with a pretty big price tag. A price tag approximately 3 to 5 times as expensive as your average city's real estate. After graduating from law school, I moved every cent I could spare to my student loans. The day I paid them off, I began saving for a house.

I have a realtor and a mortgage broker, and I've been receiving MLS listings for the last several months so that I can get a good sense of prices and how quickly things sell where. Right now is still a little early for me to buy--I'll feel more financially ready in spring. But once in a while, if something special pops up, I will go see it in person.

It is not very often that something special pops up. This is in large part because I do not want a condo--I do not wish to share walls and floors and decisions with strangers once I own. And I prefer to stay in my neighborhood, which I love. Actually, within certain sections of my neighborhood. I also want 2 1/2 bedrooms (the 1/2 will function as a walk-in closet), at least 1 1/2 baths, a dining room, hardwood, some sort of yard, off street parking (preferably a garage), location on a side street (versus a road with bus traffic), and to be within a 10 minute walk of a subway station so that my now easy commute does not become hellish. I want a place with some character, and of course, it needs to fall within a certain price range. I am okay with some fixing-upping and renovations.

A few weeks ago, something special came on the market. A small 1890 Victorian mansard with 2 1/2 bedrooms, 1 1/2 baths, a dining room, hardwood, a yard, a 2-car garage, on a side street, and with a less than 5 minute walk to a subway station. I knew the house well--I'd eyed it up dozens of times over the years thinking, if that place ever hits the market.... And so it did, with a sales price within my price range, though it was clear to anyone that it was a fixer-upper. This weekend was the first time it was open for viewing. And even though its a little early in my timeframe, I had to go to see it to see how much fixing-upping was really needed.

How much would be everything. Let's start from the outside and work our way in. First, the yard has been neglected and needs a lot of TLC. The house itself needs a new roof, sooner rather than later. And because this is a mansard, the only respectable thing to do is to replace all of the ugly asphalt roofing shingles with slate shingles. Gutters and siding must be repaired and in some areas replaced. The exterior needs a good power wash. The wooden brackets under the eaves and the wooden framing around the windows all need to be scraped. Then the whole place needs to be repainted with colors appropriate to the style.

On the interior, let's start on the first floor. The floors in the entrance foyer, dining room, half bath and kitchen have been covered in various linoleums. In some of these rooms, there are two or three layers of linoleum. Under the kitchen linoleum is just subfloor. The other rooms seem to have hardwood, but its impossible to know what shape it is in, or what shape it will be in post-linoleum removal. In any event, anything underneath would require a full refinishing. On every wall of every room is wallpaper, paneling, or some combination of the two. In some rooms, there are at least 3 layers of wallpaper. Suffice it to say that the kitchen and half bath, while operable, need a gut re-do.

On the second floor, there is linoleum press and stick tile in the full bath, and carpet in the bedrooms. Under the carpet is hardwood that appears to be in pretty good condition--with sanding and refinishing, it would be perfect. Again, there are more layers of wallpaper in every room. I had hoped to find at least a clawfoot tub in the full bath, but that was apparently dumped during a truly terrible remodel, which, again, while operable, needs a gut re-do.

Also, this house was built for gas lamps. At some point in recent decades the owners decided that they wanted electric overhead lighting. But instead of running the wiring through the ceilings and hanging the fixtures from there, drop ceilings were installed in nearly every room. The wiring runs over the drop, and the lights hang from the drop. So, not only do the awful drops need to be ripped out, but all of that electrical needs to be rerun. The plaster ceilings above the drops are intact, but are cracked and badly peeling what is likely lead paint.

And these are only the things that a novice like myself was able to pick up on. Unknowns include plumbing, structural stability, the state of the insulation that was blown into the plaster walls some time back (which can cause more damage than good in old houses), and, not to be underestimated given the amount of old linoleum and ceiling tile, the amount of asbestos abatement that might be required. Asbestos abatement requires special men wearing special suits scraping up the linoleum and glue and removing the ceiling tiles, all within specially sealed areas. The air must then be cleaned with a special filter, and all of the asbestos-containing materials must be placed in specially sealed drums and sent to a special landfill. No landfills in my state currently accept asbestos materials. So it must be sent out of state.

So, yeah, likely everything needs to be touched, from top to bottom, and from outside in. As I took it all in, I had to face that this could not become my house. Maybe if I had a job that didn't demand 12+ hour days on weekdays, and, in recent months, at least one weekend day, so that I, who is pretty handy for a girl, could do a good amount of the demo myself (save the abatement). Or maybe if it was a few years in the future and I had an extra $150k+ to spare on top of a down payment so that I could bankroll the renovations. But no matter, because this house could not become my house now. And as I faced these facts, my heart sank, because I loved this mess of a house. I had no trouble seeing beyond the needed repairs to how beautiful it will become. Despite all of the terrible (and potentially toxic) changes over the years, the house had retained all of its original charm--large baseboards, crown molding, and an elegant entryway and main staircase that made my heart go pitter patter.

I decided that the most likely buyer for this house would be a developer, because deep pockets are needed and there is no doubt that the market here will be able to absorb the renovation costs in full when it comes time to set a new sales price. I wasn't alone in this thinking. Of the hundreds of people at the open house, there were no shortage of contractors. I was just beginning to take a little comfort in the idea that I might get a second shot at my dream home in another 18 months when, to add insult to injury, I ran smack into "Z" while checking out the basement.

Z is the newest associate in my practice area at my firm. Finally, I am no longer low man on the totem pole. I now have an underling. This was desparately needed, but because my partners were not taken with anyone in the most recent summer class, and nervous about committing to a person completely untested, we poached a second year associate from another practice area. The extra body should be helpful eventually, but its not so much now, because she has no background in our field and the learning curve is very steep.

But here she is, Z, standing in the basement of my dream house, with her boyfriend and her parents. I can't help but wonder how someone who has been working for only 18 months can afford even a downpayment on this home, much less the rehab. Maybe she or the boyfriend are from a monied family. Whatever their source of funds, they appeared very interested, and later she told me that they are seriously considering making an offer. The boyfriend, she assures me, is very handy.

So I smile, and I wish her luck, but inside I am jealous and incredulous and a little angry. I don't want Z to buy my house. I don't want her to be the one who gets to make it beautiful. And I most certainly don't want her climbing my staircase.

Going Green

2011-12-01T00:18:00.001-05:00

I have a thing for plants. And by "thing" I mean that I can't stand to throw away even a clipping. I nearly always have at least one vase full of greenery growing roots. As you might imagine, all of my friends now have the same selection of plants as I do.

So when I walked by the fancy hotel on my way to work a few weeks ago and saw the landscapers switching out the large palms for the fall plants, I felt a little sad as I thought of the palms' likely fate; soon withering away in a dumpster.

But later that night I found myself sharing a subway station with this man. I've found my soul mate in photosynthesis.

Liquid Gold

2011-11-27T01:59:00.000-05:00

I have discovered that I have excellent taste.

But I also have no brand loyalty. Case in point: Like many women, I moisturize my face an average of twice daily--each morning and evening. But I've never fallen in love with any particular product. I quite like the smoothness of Clinique's Moisture Surge, but, generally, I just use whatever sample I might have on hand. And if I have no samples, I pick up some Oil of Olay at the nearby CVS. I've never really cared that much.

Until now.

Last year, I attended a certain event, and included in the swag bag handed out at the end of the evening were several Sisley samples. I'd never used Sisley. In fact, I'd never given a moment's thought to Sisley.  When I arrived home that evening, I tucked the small box of samples into my bathroom drawer and prompty forgot about them, until a few weeks ago when I'd finally reached the end of whatever moisturizer I was using. Something made me remember that box, and in pulling it out I found a tiny .5 ml tube of something called Hydra Global. This will get me through until I can get to CVS, I thought. So I removed the cap, dabbed a little on my face, and...oh wow.  It was so silky. And my goodness, it smelled so good.

Each holiday season, my family complains that I am difficult to buy for.  In response to this, I've learned to create a list from which they can choose, if they'd like. This year I had the brainstorm to put the Sisley moisturer on my list. After all, that little sample tube isn't going to last me forever.

So, for the sake of the list, I Googled Sisley. And then nearly fell over upon discovering that a 1.4 ml bottle--a bottle less than 3x the size of my small sample tube--retails for $250.00. $250.00!

I decided to put it on my list anyway. I figure that my mother will have a good laugh when she sees that.  Meanwhile, I'll be milking my little tube for as long as I can. And preparing myself to the inevitable Oil of Olay in my stocking.

Shoe Cred

2011-11-22T22:04:00.001-05:00

No matter how tall or how suede, shoes caked in last winter's salt are just...stained.

Panoramas

2011-11-21T00:02:00.000-05:00

Along the D&H Rail Trail, from Castleton to Portnoy, Vermont

From Deer's Leap trail overlook, Killington, Vermont

Big Law: Power Trip

2011-11-17T23:10:00.000-05:00

Every associate has one--the partner who finds little ways to pull rank. Often it's harmless. But it's annoying just the same. Today I received the following email from a partner whose office is a short walk from my own.

"Hi, please call me."

And then when I called...

"Hi, can you stop by?"

And then when I stopped by...

"Hi, can you please call so-and-so?"

Big Law: Black Hole

2011-11-15T00:07:00.002-05:00

If your partners are anything like my partners, they are black holes. Anything that goes into their offices is quickly lost in a landscape of paperwork and redwelds, never to be seen again. After two years of regularly fielding, "Did you give me...?" and "Could you print me another copy of...?" inquiries, I realized that my partners were never going to change and it was up to me to put a stop to this.

Enter the Red File Folder System.

The Red File Folder System is elegant in its simplicity and effectiveness. And I can say this shamelessly because I did not create it--I lifted it from someone much smarter and more creative than me--the secretary of a pre-law boss who also lost everything.

Incredible though it may sound, upon implementing the Red File Folder System, my partners immediately stopped losing my documents. In fact, during the several months that I have now been using, refining and market testing this incredible organizational tool, not a single one of them has had to come to me, head in hands, sheepish look on his or her face, to ask for yet another copy of XYZ document.

So, at long last, drum roll please, I am pleased to present...the Red File Folder System!

Step 1: Find a red file folder. (Or whatever is the brightest color file folder your office provides.) Note: It is critical that you use the same color file folder each and every time, so that, like Pavlov's dogs, your partners will come to instantly associate this color file folder with your genius work product.

Step 2: With contrasting color Sharpie and Post-It Note, provide identifying information on the front of the file folder.

Step 3: Insert genius work product and hand the red file folder to your partner.

Step 4: Marvel at why you didn't think of this sooner.

You can thank me later. :)

Two!

2011-11-12T23:59:00.002-05:00

Today, Never Been Lived Before turned two years old! A big thank you to everyone who has stumbled upon us, hung around and commented. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun without you.

How appropriate then, that I recently again saw Ani Difranco, my all time favorite musician and the namesake of this little blog, perform. Suffice it to say that the show was fantastic, but one of my favorite parts of the evening took place pre-concert, when, as we stood outside the train station getting our directional bearings, I asked GF, "which way to the venue?" She zeroed in on a couple of women and then quipped, "Just follow the lesbians".

Mother Nature

2011-11-10T18:00:00.003-05:00

At nearly every switchback along nearly every road in Vermont, you can see the effects of Irene--stream banks are widened and littered with trees, fresh asphalt now lies where entire lanes were washed away, two foot trenches carved by rushing water still parrallel the roads remaining, covered bridges hang by mere threads. Road crews were ubiquitous, working to cover as much ground as possible before the winter season begins. Also ubiquitous were the handmade signs erected by townspeople grateful for the crews' hard work.

In the beautiful town of Pittsfield, we saw some of the worst damage.

And then, just a few yards away, some of the prettiest scenery imaginable.

Mother Nature, the ultimate extremist.

Thank God I'm a Country Girl?

2011-11-08T18:00:00.011-05:00

I've always been a city girl, having always lived in cities. And for some years before moving here, I craved this one in particular--Pretty Big City. I'd visited as a teenager, but it wasn't until I came again as an adult that I fell in love. Have you ever found yourself someplace totally unfamiliar, but where you instantly feel entirely at home? That was me as I stepped foot in Pretty Big City. I felt completely centered and had this indescribable knowledge that this is where I belong.

But like any crush that develops into a long-term relationship, I've had to come to terms with some inevitable imperfections in my mate. In recent months I've found myself entertaining certain curmudgeonly thoughts about, and confronting new sensitivities to, the trade-offs associated with urban living. (Like sharing walls and floors with other people.) And I've found myself craving the calm, quiet and quaintness of time spent in the countryside.

Since learning last fall that Vermont does calm, quiet and quaint like no other place, when a Groupon offer for a hotel stay this fall landed in my email, we jumped on it.

Weston, Vermont

Somewhere between Cavendish and Woodstock, Vermont

On the way to Sugarbush Farms in Woodstock, Vermont

Queechee, Vermont

We ate wonderful meals made with fresh ingredients, visited one beautiful shop after another, ooohed and ahhhed over amazing vistas, and tasted homemade cheese and maple syrup at a local farm. Now, if only downtown Woodstock was on the subway line, I'd have found my new home.

Punk Rock Girl

2011-11-06T15:26:00.000-05:00

Do you have an inner punk rock girl, long stifled but desparate to break free and cause a little anarchy? Well, there is hope for you yet.

The mohawk hat! Let loose your punk rock girl.

One Saturday I took a walk to Zipperhead

I met a girl there

And she almost knocked me dead

Punk rock girl please look at me

Punk rock girl what do you see?

Let's travel round the world

Just you and me punk rock girl

I tapped her on the shoulder

And said do you have a beau?

She looked at me and smiled

And said she did not know

Punk rock girl give me a chance

Punk rock girl let's go slamdance

We'll dress like Minnie Pearl

Just you and me punk rock girl

--Punk Rock Girl, Dead Milkmen

Horror-zontal

2011-10-31T00:09:00.000-04:00

Notwithstanding certain famous shopping districts where one can spend their annual salary in a single afternoon with hardly any effort at all, Pretty Big City is a casual dresser. Here, you can wear your designer jeans to even the fanciest of restaurants and not feel at all out of place.

As evidenced by Iris Apfel's recent criticism of New York City's own style devolution, the trend toward dressing down seems to be ubiquitous. Nevertheless, Pretty Big City's ego took a pretty big hit when not long ago it made a national list of worst dressed cities. Apparently, Pretty Big City is not merely a casual dresser, it is a slob.

I will admit, I first felt a little defensive when faced with this criticism of my adopted home. But then I started taking stock. And as much as it pains me to say it, I have come to see the criticism as warranted.

Yes, it is Halloween. No, this is not a costume. Visible here are two dozen reasons to say no to horizontal stripes. Always.

Pretty Big City, you better hope that Ms. Apfel has grown too old to leave New York.

Happy [belated] birthday to me!

2011-10-29T00:52:00.000-04:00

Dear blog,

You are like the good friend that I fell out of touch with when life became too busy, and now I have so much to tell you that it can longer longer fit into a quick phone call. And so even though I miss you and think of you often, because I just don't have time for a long phone call, I don't call at all. And we fall further and further out of touch.

---

The last several weeks have been jam packed. Jam. Packed. I've been working long, long hours, including weekends. And if I hadn't already committed far in advance to certain travel and activities, this autumn would have passed by without any of them. For example, although I usually prefer a quiet birthday (take-out, DVD, and cake is ideal), this year I managed to score entry to an invitation-only performance of The Joy Formidable in a small club. Taking place on my birthday night.

It was a fantastic show. The best I'd seen since Arcade Fire more than a year earlier. There was even a guy who succeeded in prolonged crowd surfing.

And that's when I realized that quiet birthdays..., they're overrated.

The Best Real Estate

2011-10-09T20:00:00.000-04:00

A day after returning home from Island #2, the rain finally stopped and the sun decided to return to work. Feeling like we were owed a good bike ride, GF and I drove to nearby state and ticked another 30 mile rail trail off of our to-do list.

The railroads really did have the very best real estate.

Big Law: GILF

2011-10-07T22:11:00.000-04:00

A pro bono matter that I have been working on for more than two years is finally wrapping up. It involved representation of a minor and she has recently reached majority age. During this process, I've seen this girl through a lot of ups and downs, including teenage pregnancy, and gotten to know certain members of her family pretty well. In a recent conversation with her mother, the mother asked me if I'd seen the most recent photos of the baby. I told her that I hadn't.

Mother: She's so beautiful, and such a good baby. I know when this pregnancy happened that I thought that this baby was the biggest mistake ever, but I just love her so much now.

Me: I remember how upset you were. I am happy to know that she has brought you so much joy.

Mother: She really has. Pause. Juliet?

Me: Yes?

Mother: Do you know what a MILF is?

Me: Uhm, yes. Yes, I do.

Mother: I am a GILF

Summer of Isles - Best Laid Plans

2011-10-02T23:40:00.003-04:00

Irene caused us to postpone our trip to Island #2, but a week later we made it to Island #3 as planned. Our first day there was beautiful, and we managed to bike about twenty-five miles while sightseeing.

But Mother Nature was less cooperative on days two and three, delivering a constant drizzle broken up by sudden, torrential downpours. We'd left the car on the mainland, but fortunately, the island has a decent bus system, so not all was lost. We spent the rainy days tooling around some of the island towns, each of which has its own distinct look and feel. Here are two.

By the end of our visit, growing weary of the rain and untempted by a wet, five mile bike ride back to the ferry terminal, we planned our afternoon around catching a particular bus at a particular time, so as to catch a particular ferry. Or so we thought. Best laid plans and all.

Novices to the island as we were, we didn't know that in rough weather the ferry stops running from our chosen side of the island. Moreover, because we didn't learn this until after exiting the bus and walking to said abandoned ferry terminal, we had to mount our bikes and ride the several miles to the next town. We finally arrived, rain soaked, bikes caked in sand and dirt, mud lines up our backs, but relieved to see that boarding was just about to begin. Or so we thought.

Again, novices as we were, we didn't know when you walk on with a bike at this particular ferry terminal, you are not allowed to board with the rest of the non-vehicle passengers. Nor are you allowed to board with the vehicles. Instead, you are forced to wait, outside, in the rain, until every single other person and every single vehicle is loaded onto the ferry. This, we learned, takes approximately an hour. And only when every single other person and every single vehicle is loaded, are you and the two others with bicycles allowed to step onto the boat and out of the rain. Awesome.

And even more awesome was when the "unusual" guy, who, I realized after a few minutes, had at least tourettes syndrome, seated himself directly behind us on the ferry. At first, he seemed harmless, despite his ticks and quirks. But he grew increasingly agitated over the hour-long trip, jumping out of his seat and running halfway up the aisle, only to stop abruptly and run back. And then he would do it again. And again. I was beginning to find him distracting, but not unduly troubling. That is until, once again seated, he began to chant, "destroy, destroy, destroy, destroy, destroy, destroy,..." for some minutes.

When he stopped chanting to make a phone call and special order some Stevie Wonder CDs, I decided once again that he was harmless. But then the running resumed. And then the running stopped. But this time it stopped at the end of our aisle. That's when he stood next to our seats, facing us, and began to chant, "stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab..."

Yeah. We finally moved.

As soon as we disembarked from the ferry, the skies opened up again, with a rain so fierce that if we'd been in the car we would have had to pull off the road. But we weren't in the car. We were back on our bikes, with a mile and a half to go before reaching our car. After finally loading up the bikes, we stripped naked behind the car door, pulling on dry clothes and hoping that no one would drive by.

Two hours later, we were settling into our pjs and Chinese take out, exhausted and feeling like we'd just accomplished international travel, rather than a mere return trip from a nearby island.

Big Law: Lose Yourself

2011-09-26T23:20:00.001-04:00

Witty Partner has a genius mind and a droll sense of humor, wrapped up in an unassuming and socially awkward exterior. As a result, he is the person most often at the center of my favorite office moments.

Witty Partner: My youngest son has taken to loading my MP3 player with music, some of which he thinks I will like, and some of which he just thinks I should know.

Me: What types of music do you like?

Witty Partner: I quite like country. And folk.

Me: I really like folk also.

Witty Partner: And Eminem.

Me: Really, Eminem? You are full of surprises.

Witty Partner: Yes, I quite like the "one shot" song.

Me: I think I know the one you mean...from 8 Mile...the one about being nervous about performing and throwing up spaghetti on his sweater, right?

Witty Partner: Yes, yes, that's the one!

Witty Partner then closes his eyes and after a moment begins to recite, verbatim:

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out...

Stiletto Soup

2011-09-24T00:42:00.002-04:00

Its late on a weeknight and I'm finally heading home. I'm tired, and very much in my own head. After some time, my eyes shift into focus and I take notice of the bold checked flannel shirt sitting near me, and then, the items its wearer has placed on the seat between us.

A pair of bright red patent leather pumps.

And a large plastic soup ladle.

Describe this guy's night in 100 words or less. One, two, three, GO.

We Wear Short Shorts

2011-09-10T23:26:00.000-04:00

No matter how cute your tush, if I can see your pocket lining, your shorts need a tad more length.

ROYGBIV

2011-09-08T21:38:00.000-04:00

August 2011.

Big Law: Why I Don't Believe in Casual Fridays

2011-09-06T18:00:00.002-04:00

I don't believe in casual Fridays. I'm not a conservative individual, personally or politically, but if one is working in a professional environment, he or she should look the part. Every day. Fridays included.

Casual Fridays made sense when people were required to wear suits to the office everyday. On the occasional casual Friday, one could dress down to business casual. A button up shirt with no tie. But even the largest and most stodgy of law firms now apply business casual as a rule. So what does casual Friday look like when dressing down from there?

It looks like this.

You'd never know it from this photo, but this is a very successful and senior Big Law attorney on a casual Friday. I've long admired this attorney. Sadly, I now admire her a little bit less.

Nuns Wear Tevas

2011-09-04T22:56:00.002-04:00

...with socks no less!

Pity Party

2011-08-27T18:39:00.000-04:00

I was supposed to board a ferry this morning, with my bicycle, my backpack and GF. We are supposed to be riding around and exploring Island #2 right now. We are supposed to be taking photos of beautiful views, sticking our feet in sand, and trying out new restaurants.

But Hurricane Irene has thwarted our plans. So, instead, I'm throwing myself a pity party. There will be lots of Doritos involved.

Summer of Isles - Ridiculous

2011-08-24T23:23:00.000-04:00

My favorite part of our visit to Big Island #1 was our hike on the morning of our last day. Every few steps, GF and I turned to each other, able to say only, "Ridiculous".

The only thing that could have made it better was if we'd been able to eat our weight in wild berries. Oh wait, we did that too.

Summer of Isles - Cheery

2011-08-19T22:59:00.000-04:00

Our second day on Big Island #1 was clear and sunny. At the end of our first day I would have told you that the island could not look more beautiful than it had under overcast skies. But I would have been wrong.

Morning beach-goers.

Is it just me, or does something about this photo remind you of a postcard circa 1985?

Steps up and down the bluffs.

Ponds.

Favorite sign.

Sunset.

Summer of Isles - Moody

2011-08-16T21:42:00.000-04:00

Our first day on Big Island #1 was overcast, which made the island moody and incredibly beautiful.

Big Island #1 isn't really all that big. Its only 7 miles long and 3 miles wide. You can bring your car, or, you can do like us, leave the car on the mainland, and embark the ferry with just bikes and backpacks. Once we checked into our hotel, we hopped onto said bikes and headed to the south end of the island, visiting the first of two lighthouses, and a smidge of the 17 miles of beach.

Lone boat.

Distant lighthouse.

Summer of Isles - Low Tide, High Tide

2011-08-13T01:45:00.000-04:00

The day before we headed off to our first multi-day visit of the summer to a "big" island, we checked the tidal schedule and headed an hour north to visit a modest 5 acre island. During low tide, you can walk to it. During high tide, you need a boat.

Low tide

Back on the mainland, a short distance away is a beautiful old cemetery perched atop a hill.

A bit further is a Revolutionary War fort and this view.

And finally, one of the prettiest old towns I've ever visited. And believe me, this part of the world has no shortage of pretty old towns. If I lived here, I would like this house. Look at those windows!

Hit the Deck

2011-07-29T08:00:00.001-04:00

We love summer on the deck.

ISO Friends with Summer Houses

2011-07-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

As much as GF and I dislike our current neighbors, we loved our former neighbor and wish that she could have moved right along with us.

We get together from time and time, and a couple of weeks ago she invited us for a weekend in her hometown in a nearby state. She was at the tail end of a week's vacation at her family's boat house on one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever had the pleasure to splash around in. It has been renovated into a summer apartment, and comes complete with paddle boat, row boat, and motor boat. But because it was built as an honest to goodness boat house, its entire length sits directly over the water. I can still hear the soft lapping of the current against the dock as I fell asleep.

Work felt a million miles away that weekend.

Turn 360 degrees while standing on the dock, and this is what you see.

And hopefully it will feel a million miles away for the next few days also. As you are reading this, GF and I will be in the middle of one of our summer island getaways. Am I ever looking forward to it!

Big Law: My New Normal

2011-07-24T01:18:00.000-04:00

Things have not slowed down at work even one iota. I have yet to add up my hours, but this past week may have been my busiest ever. I billed 19 hours on Thursday. Yes, that is correct, 19 hours in one day. I began work before 9 am and called it quits at 4:28 am. I fell asleep around 5am, and at 6 the alarm began its belligerent beeping. I must admit that I hit snooze a few times.

I was back in the office before 8:30am on Friday morning, and worked until quarter to ten that night. The amazing thing was that although I felt tired for the first couple of hours, after that I felt completely fine. It must have been pure adrenalin because there is no other explanation for it.

My practice area did not experience the slowdown that so many others did during the past two years, but I used to make it home by 8pm on more nights than not. I think that I have been home by 8pm once in the last three months. Now, most nights I stagger in closer to 10pm. Ten has become my new normal.

My practice group does not hire new attorneys each year like the larger groups do. We hire a newbie into our group every three years or so. Shortly after the summer associates began this June, we began testing out the class to see if there was anyone who we might want to invite into the close knit fold of our group. I don't know that we fell in love with anyone enough to ask them to marry us. This is very, very sad, because making an offer now means that the newbie would begin 14 months from now. Not having fallen in love means that a newbie is even further off.

With so many talented job seekers out there, you'd think that this would not be so difficult. But law firms are wed to their habits, and generally hire associates in only two ways--from the summer program, or as a lateral from another firm. So, unless we get creative during this next year, we won't have another chance at finding a newbie until next summer, and that newbie won't begin until 26 months from now.

I do not like this new normal enough to want it to last for 26 months. Do. Not. Like.

Industrialism by Bike

2011-07-12T23:17:00.001-04:00

So enamored was I with my recent bike ride through Hometown, that over Fourth of July weekend we took off to a nearby state for a day of riding through a series of old mill towns.

Industrialism probably wasn't so pretty back in its heyday, but it sure is beautiful now.

Dams created for the hundreds of mills that once lined this river.

River.

Mill.

In the center of downtown in one of the towns we rode through.

The very first cotton mill in the country still stands.

Big Law: Sua Wife is Mia Wife

2011-07-07T23:00:00.001-04:00

Senior Associate's wife gave up her career to stay home with their young children. She's one of those super moms. For example, she packs the kids' lunches everyday in cute tin cannisters labeled with each child's name.

She often packs Senior Associate's lunch too, also in cute tin cannisters labled with his name. Without fail, whenever I poke my head into his office I find him munching on some sort of healthy homemade snack. He then tells me how incredibly delicious it is, and I tell him that if he doesn't bring enough to share, he shouldn't bring any at all.

Score! Senior Associate's wife has started packing me snacks too! In my own cute cannister with my own name on it. In the last week I've received homemade zucchini bread and muffins, homemade granola bars, and homemade blueberry pie. And Senior Associate is no liar, it is all incredibly delicious.

I love my new wife.

Go Flo!

2011-07-06T23:00:00.002-04:00

Florence & the Machine, June 2011.

Way better than being at work until 10pm on a weeknight.

Summer of Isles

2011-07-05T22:56:00.000-04:00

Pretty Big City is surrounded by islands; from little islands that can be explored during an afternoon hike to big islands that some spend a lifetime becoming acquainted with. Some are a short drive or boat ride away. Others require some hours of travel by ground and water. GF and I have christened this season the Summer of Isles, and we plan to visit as many as we can.

Our first island of the season is small and nearby with beautiful natural landscaping and a 3 1/2 mile walking/cycling trail around its perimeter. It was once home to sequestered prisoners and sick immigrants. Now it is home to tall grasses and lovely views of downtown.

Yellow Stained Beauty

2011-06-27T20:00:00.003-04:00

This spring I bought myself a new bicycle. It had been on my wish list for two years, ever since the day I rode 50 miles on my hand-me-down mountain bike. Anxious to break it in, I carted it the 400 road miles to Hometown over Memorial Day weekend. In the years since I've moved away, Hometown had built a 20-mile bike trail that I had yet to ride. I told my brother to break out his cycling legs, which hadn't pedaled more than two miles at a time in the 2 decades since he'd gotten a drivers license.

We were treated with an entirely new view into Hometown's yellow stained industrial beauty.

Cute Girl Comb Over

2011-06-25T22:14:00.001-04:00

Illegimate child of Donald Trump?

City Life

2011-06-17T22:32:00.001-04:00

My morning began with interruping a hoodlum thief who was skulking around my neighbors' backyards. He took off running and was long gone by the time the police arrived. He'll undoubtedly be back--he had his heart set on something--but hopefully the notes that I left with all of my neighbors tonight will encourage everyone to keep an eye out.

Immediately after that, I headed to a convent in an adjacent neighborhood for a two hour meeting with eight cloistered nuns. I am in pretty good with God right now.

While leaving said notes for my neighbors tonight, I met one of them for the first time. He told me that there is a homeless guy who roams the street and has taken it upon himself to store a large number of gargage bags full of who knows what underneath the outdoor decks of the lower condo units. He's accumulated a total of 18 bags so far. They feel a little bad about it, but next trash day they're going to start hauling them to the curb.

Big Law: Neglectful Blogger

2011-06-14T22:38:00.000-04:00

I have been a bad blogger these last several weeks.

Not out of choice, but out of necessity. Work is super busy. I can't remember the last time I arrived home before 9pm; its been close to 2 months I think. Many nights, I'm not home until 10pm. And when I do finally make it in the door, I wash up, change into my pjs, warm up the dinner that GF made hours earlier, eat, give my neglected cat some sweet talk and pets, and finally, stare glassy eyed at whatever happens to be the most banal program then on TV. I don't have the energy to turn on my computer, much less string written words together.

Because nearly every waking hour of my weekdays are consumed by work, my weeks are consumed with trying to stay on top of my personal to-do list. And catching up with GF. Among the blog, the cat, and GF, GF is bearing the brunt of my neglect.

Busy is not all bad. I am being well-utilized. I am learning. I have a lot of responsibility. I am juggling dozens of clients and matters. And a couple of weeks ago, I invited my assigned mentor and my assigned work allocator out to lunch to discuss my professional development and a strategic plan of action for the next year. This means that even more is coming down the pike. This is good.

But I am tired. I hope you will all bear with me.

Pink

2011-06-08T23:41:00.000-04:00

I love Asian women. And for at least 3 reasons:

(1) Asian women are, in my humble opinion, the most beautiful.
(2) All of my favorite law school friends are Asian women.
(3) And last but not least, the wonderfully crazy things that Asian women can wear.

With the shedding of winter coats, I am once again treated to a plethora of memorable fashion statements (and sometimes faux pas) here in Pretty Big City. From time to time though, there is a true standout, like this woman, who we'll call "Pink".

Unfortunately, my photo does not tell the whole story, so I'll try to fill in the missing pieces and you'll have to try to use your imagination.

It's 9am on a weekday in a downtown subway station. I estimate Pink to be approximately 55 years of age. She is immaculately groomed and in phenomenal shape with a rocking little bod. And I know this because I could see almost all of it. On the bottom, Pink wears fully translucent silver mesh pants over hot pink tights with large punk rock holes all the way up and down the back of her legs. The holes are so large that Pink also sports hot pink hot pants to (almost) cover up her most private bits. On the top, Pink wears an iridescent hot pink metallic sleeveless V neck over fully transparent black sleeves with sparkly silver detailing.

And the best part? Her large purple backpack.

Where she was heading and how she was planning to spend her day is a mystery that I'll be contemplating for some time. But I thank her for bringing a little hot pink joy to my morning commute.

Twisted Sister

2011-06-03T00:00:00.000-04:00

Note: Full length mirrors are our friend.

Walk in the Park

2011-06-01T23:45:00.000-04:00

A few weeks back, when we ran into Fonzie and the rogue knitters, we were on our way downtown to visit here. There is no prettier park come spring.

Yellow is underrated.

Pond.

One man band.

If...

2011-05-31T22:42:00.000-04:00

If I were a flower, I would be a red tulip.

Scratch 'n Sniff

2011-05-24T22:06:00.000-04:00

The very, very best part of spring.

Big Law: Just One Reason Why My I Love My Assistant (and GF Too)

2011-05-15T17:59:00.001-04:00

This week, the below arrived in my mail at the office.

I laughed so hard I nearly cracked a rib. Of course, my assistant sent it to me. She is awesome.

***

Now for something completely different....

I have never understood the phrase "jump the shark". Until this weekend when GF used it. I rolled my eyes and asked her what the heck jumping a shark has to do with anything, and she actually knew. And the best part? It is born of Happy Days. There is a particular episode where the Cunninghams and their posse go on vacation, and on that vacation, Fonzie jumps a shark. (Wearing, by the way, the smallest swim trunks I've ever seen on US soil, and his leather jacket.) And this is the episode that is widely recognized as being the beginning of the end of Happy Days. Hence, the moment a show jumps the shark, the downward spiral has begun.

Triptych

2011-05-13T22:43:00.000-04:00

Three views. Same corner.

Aaaaaaaaye!

2011-05-09T22:26:00.000-04:00

Pretty Big City has a group of rogue knitters. Their wonderful "yarn bombing" shows up in the most unexpected of places. On a recent weekend, GF and I were thrilled when riding a bike trail through the city we stumbled upon these pieces.

And we were doubly thrilled when at the very moment that we spotted these, Henry Winkler walked directly in front of us. Yes, Fonzie. Aaaaaaaye!

Settling in: Bathroom Edition

2011-05-05T23:15:00.000-04:00

Room #3: The Bathroom

For a good many years, I have pined away for a bathroom with white wainscotting and a clawfoot tub. You can imagine my thrill when we found this room last spring while apartment hunting.

That's not to say that it didn't need some sprucing up.

BEFORE: When the last tenants lived here, our bathroom was (surprise, surprise) cream.

AFTER: We opted for a grey with a hint of lavendar.

South Florida - Ft. Lauderdale Finale

2011-04-30T23:16:00.000-04:00

The last half of our last day in South Florida was spend in Ft. Lauderdale. I'd always associated this city with spring break mahem, and it wasn't until we began planning this vacation that we learned it is actually a beautiful city full of canals, earning itself the nickname the Venice of America.

Reflections along the Riverwalk.

Yummy in my tummy.

Condo building along the Riverwalk.

All week I was hoping to see something to suggest that the yellow filter used on CSI Miami was based in fact. The sunset over downtown Fort Lauderdale was proof positive.

So long South Florida! You were exactly what we needed at the end of a long, cold, snowy winter.

South Florida - Key Biscayne

2011-04-26T21:24:00.000-04:00

On our last day in South Florida, we headed up to Fort Lauderdale. But we couldn't resist first stopping off at Bill Baggs State Park in Key Biscayne.

Heading to the beach.

Lighthouse.

View from the lighthouse window.

View from the lighthouse catwalk.

Descending.

Window.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T19:24:00.000-04:00

The Easter Bunny brought me the best bounty ever this year. Five pounds (!) of the elusive and delicious Brach's Peacock Egg jelly beans.

You might think that this many jelly beans would last me until next Easter. But you would be wrong.

Happy Easter everyone!

Big Law: Best Laid Plans

2011-04-21T23:05:00.000-04:00

I purposefully scheduled myself to return home from the South Florida vacation on a Saturday so that I would have Sunday to catch up on all of the real life things that one needs to catch up on post-vacation -- mail, laundry, cleaning. So when Sunday morning rolled around and I received an email from Assigning Partner saying that the matter from hell had just exploded, and begging for help, it took me a moment to decide what to do. On the one hand, no one at the office knew that I was back. I could ignore the email and send an apology later saying, "Sorry, I was on a plane!"

On the other hand, in all the time I'd been at the firm, I'd never been called into work on an evening or a weekend or been asked to work on a vacation. Yes, we all work very hard, but we put in our hours willingly and in exchange we respect one another's personal lives. There's no face time or having to constantly check the Blackberry during off hours.

I called Assigning Partner, told her I'd be in, and worked a full day that Sunday. The mail, laundry and cleaning went undone until the next weekend.

---

Finally, many days later, the matter from hell wrapped up. Within minutes of the closing, Assigning Partner sent an email to the entire practice group:

"I want to thank everyone for their amazing assistance in the ABC matter. The team effort from everyone was so helpful. I especially want to thank Juliet for responding to my plea a few weeks ago to drop everything on a beautiful Sunday to come to work and help me, as well as the many nights over the last months that she has stayed with me."

---

I made the right decision that Sunday.

South Florida - Parasail Adventure

2011-04-20T22:35:00.000-04:00

During our first morning in Miami, I was laying on South Beach, transfixed on the boats pulling people along the horizon, gliding in midair beneath a parachute.

"I want to do that," I told GF.

"Have fun," she responded.

Our time in South Beach went by so quickly that I never had time to investigate. I suffered a silent disappointment. Until I got to Key West and discovered the countless parasailing choices there.

"I am not leaving Key West without doing that," I told GF.

"Have fun," she responded.

I DID!

South Florida - Sunset Over Key West

2011-04-19T22:28:00.000-04:00

From Fort Zachary State Park and beach.

South Florida - Key West, Hemingway Adventure

2011-04-17T23:58:00.001-04:00

Key West's most famous inhabitant was Ernest Hemingway. The next most famous are the six-toed cats of Ernest Hemingway.

Hemingway's house and gardens are now a museum, and also home to fifty-three cats, every one of them a descendant of Hemingway's first six-toed cat.

Hemingway's house.

View of the lighthouse from the balcony of Hemingway's house. The then-owner of Sloppy Joe's bar often joked that it was only by way of this light that Hemingway found his way home each night.

Gardens.

Six-toed cat sleeping in the garden.

Another.

Paw prints in the patio concrete.

Party animals.

South Florida - Eco Kayaking Adventure

2011-04-16T00:28:00.000-04:00

During the first five minutes that we were in Key West, we ran across information about a kayak eco tour. We booked a reservation for the very next morning.

We spent three and a half hours paddling around with our guide, a Key West native and marine scientist who had a true genius for finding underwater creatures. We saw (and touched!) all sorts of salt water life.

Like these copulating slugs. (Okay, I didn't actually touch these. Besides, they were copulating.) Our guide told us that because they have male and female "parts", they are often found in long daisy chains (of ten slugs or more). Yes, a slug orgy.

And live conch.

And sea urchin.

And star fish.

We spent a lot of time among the red mangrove trees, which grow right out of the salt water,...

...and have lots of low hanging branches.

And we saw beautiful scenery all around.

It was a most excellent adventure.

South Florida - Intro to Key West

2011-04-15T00:28:00.001-04:00

After 2 1/2 days of a South Beach home base, it was time to head to laid back Key West.

The drive from Miami to Key West is 160-miles on a single lane highway. But you don't mind, because almost all of it looks like this.

We spent our first day in Key West getting our bearings. That meant exploring the entire length of Duvall Street....

...including stopping to admire St. Paul's Episcopal Church,...

...and this right-hand drive beauty,...

...and becoming acquainted with some of the local color. And there is a LOT of local color. This guy for example, rides all evening up and down Duvall street on his lighted bicycle, complete with elaborate Michael Jackson shrine and soundtrack.

And of course, the most famous of all of the local color, the wonderful Cat Man and his wonderful Sunset Celebration show,...

...which you can enjoy while watching this sunset over the aptly named Sunset Island.

South Florida - Venetian Pool

2011-04-13T21:00:00.001-04:00

On our way out of Miami and en route to Key West, we stopped by Coral Gables to see the famous Venetian Pool.

In the 1920s it was a coral rock quarry. The stone was used to build houses in the area. Coral Gables' planner, George Merrick, turned it into a pool/community center/casino. The casino is now gone, but the public pool and community center functions remain.

I don't know about you, but my local community pool looked nothing like this.

South Florida - Vizcaya & Coconut Grove

2011-04-12T22:33:00.000-04:00

After our adventure through the Everglades, we stopped off for a tour of the Vizcaya Museum and Gardens. Because it is in 1000 Things to See Before You Die, and we've still got a few left.

Vizcaya

Bookstore in nearby Coconut Grove

Big Law: Drug Test

2011-04-11T20:00:00.020-04:00

Assigning Partner is difficult to distill into words. She is politically liberal but very conservative in her other choices. Think Talbots suits, fruit cups, field greens and tuna salad for lunch, and a make-up free face. She's calm amid a storm. She's a kick-ass attorney, a wife and a mother. She's at first stand-offish and difficult to get to know, but as she gradually unfurls herself, she becomes the person you least want to disappoint.

So I can only imagine the panic that struck her son last week when, first, he received an email from his internship employer telling him when and where to report for a surprise drug test, and second, he realized that he would have to call his mother to tell her that he was going to fail. I know a little piece of him just died inside when he had to do that.

* * *

(Don't lose too much sleep, he's a straight A ivy league student. Even if he does fail, I'm sure he'll recover and find another great internship.

And to Assigning Attorney's credit, once the shock and awe wore off, she took the whole thing in stride. Calm amid a storm, I tell you.)

South Florida - Adventuring Thru the Everglades

2011-04-10T18:23:00.001-04:00

Just north of Miami is the Everglades. (In fact, Miami sits on what used to be even more Everglades, until that section was filled in for development, but I digress.) A 40 minute drive brings you to Shark Valley National Park. There, you can rent bikes and ride a 15 mile loop alongside alligators, turtles and birds. GF and I could not pass this up.

The day started out bright and sunny, but the further north we drove, the greyer and cloudier it became. As we pulled into the park, wind was whipping up and I was feeling grateful that I'd brought a windbreaker with me, just in case. Until, that is, the bike rental guy informed us that a severe storm warning was in effect, complete with 70 mph gusts and tornado warnings. "You go out at your own risk."

GF and I looked at eachother. We looked at the darkening storm clouds directly overhead. Then we looked at the bikes available to rent. There were only 4 left. We didn't particularly want to get blown by a tornado into an alligator pit and be eaten alive, but we also didn't want to turn back. "Let's just do it," she said.

When we hit the trail just a few minutes, our shadows suddenly appeared under blue skies that extended as far as we could see.

Someone else definitely wanted us to adventure through the Everglades that day. And a most excellent adventure it was.

See that water? That is how close you are to the gators. Assuming that they aren't sunning themselves in the middle of the bike trail, which they sometimes are.

It's hard to get a sense of scale, but the gators were HUGE. They grow to 14 1/2 feet long.

The water is to the right of this photo. This is the dry season, so the area to the left was solid. We still kept a safe distance from it though. Who knows what's in there!

Mr. Turtle.

The Everglades are full of amazing birds.

I would not like to be on the wrong side of this guy.

Or this one.

Baby gators. They were really tiny--absent the tail, maybe a foot long.

No, those are not tadpoles. Those are full grown gators. At the trail's half-way point is an overlook tower. And this is what you overlook--a gator pit. There were hundreds of them here alone.

The scenery is stunning.

South Florida - Photosynthesis

2011-04-08T22:24:00.000-04:00

South Florida - South Beach, Deco in Daylight

2011-04-07T22:19:00.001-04:00

South Florida - South Beach, Deco in Night Light

2011-04-06T21:50:00.001-04:00

The first thing that South Beach is known for is, of course, silicone and small bikinis. The second is the gay (male) nightclub scene. The third, and most important, is that it is home to the very best collection of art deco buildings in the world.

South Florida - South Beach, The Beach

2011-04-05T22:42:00.000-04:00

We arrived in Miami just in time for a heat wave. 91 degrees makes for a perfect day to lie on South Beach.

Us.

Late afternoon sun.

Looking north.

Beach grasses.

Miami girls discuss plastic surgery, Forever 21 and become Facebook friends with the two cute gay boys who drove down all the way from Denver.

South Beach is the only place in the world where a person can appear to be wildy over-dressed in shorts and a tank top. All you need in South Beach is a very small bikini. Add sandals and it transforms into strolling and shopping attire. Add heels and it becomes dinner attire. And not strolling, shopping and dinner on the beach. This works equally well for strolling, shopping and dinner several blocks away from the beach. For real. Bikini. That's all you need.

GF and I were wildly over-dressed.

South Florida! (Hot, or Not?)

2011-04-04T23:52:00.000-04:00

I'm baaack.

Pretty Big City has never looked so brown or felt so cold. Returning from a week in lush and sunny South Florida will do that to a place.

The difficulties of re-entry aside, the trip was great. We adventured and ate our way through Miami, Key West and Ft. Lauderdale, and returned home the wonderful kind of exhausted. Snippets will follow. In the meantime, two images that you'd never see in my part of the world book-ended our trip and served as an apt greeting to and farewell from the illusory world that can be South Florida.

The first we saw as soon as we entered Miami's city limits. Is it possible that the boob job is so plebian in South Florida that grimey city buses are appropriate venues for plastic surgeons to target market to the masses? Yes, yes it is. The oversized spheres desperately clinging to tiny frames in even tinier bikinis on South Beach was all the evidence needed to reach this conclusion.

The second we saw on our last day, as we again re-entered Miami's city limits. Use of cab placards to advertise South Beach's World Erotic Art Museum to tourists makes sense, but the choice of this particular woman as the museum's visual? Hysterical.

Bon Voyage to Me!

2011-03-28T23:59:00.001-04:00

I am heading off to the land of palm trees, sunshine, and 80 degree temperatures. See you in a week!

Big Law: Don't Talk With Your Mouth Full

2011-03-26T00:20:00.000-04:00

Senior Partner is a messy eater. Everyone knows this, and so there is a lot of strategizing and secret jockeying around the conference table whenever we are scheduled for a lunchtime meeting. There is also a lot of strategizing and jockeying to avoid lunchtime meetings.

Earlier this week I had to schedule a short meeting with Senior Partner to discuss a matter we are working on. "I am available beginning at 11:45," he told me.

I immediately began calculating. Our cafeteria opens at noon, so anytime between then and 1pm means I may catch him mid-lunch. No thank you. But if I choose a time too late in the day, he might think that I am not prioritizing his matter. "How about 1:15?" I suggest, feeling confident that I have successfully straddled the line I'm trying to straddle.

You can imagine my horror when at the scheduled time I arrive at Senior Partner's office and am confronted with a full plate of food in the middle of his desk blotter. "I hope you don't mind if I eat while we talk. I'm getting a late start."

For the next 15 minutes I had to force myself to maintain eye contact, and a poker face, while mayonnaise sat on his chin and half-chewed food fell from his mouth onto his desk. The best moments were when he picked up the half-chewed food with his fingers and sucked it off.

After the meeting I stopped to commiserate with Mid Level Associate and share what I had just endured. We both gagged, and then nursed a hard candy to settle our stomachs.

Settling In (Dining Room Edition)

2011-03-22T20:00:00.005-04:00

Room #2: The Dining Room

The dining room is one of only two rooms that we don't plan to repaint. It flaunts a khaki-tan color (less gold than it looks in these photos), and we don't mind it.

Although I'm not enamored with sewing, a good friend of mine is (you'll see some quilts from her in a later posting). She made these chair covers for me several years back. Atop the cabinet in the far corner is a dragon planter that I found at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens a decade ago. I still adore it. And hanging above the old turned wood chair is a 1967 charcoal drawing of a repeated figure in a chair titled "Newspaper Sequence".

GF's bookcase ended up serving as a nice counterpoint to the built-in that is diagonal from this corner.

On top of the bookcase are a couple Asian raku pieces.

This old victrola cabinet used to belong to GF's grandmother. The victrola is gone, but it serves as a great sideboard.

Old houses may have lousy insulation, but a built-in with leaded glass makes it all worthwhile.
(We will be painting the mint green wall behind the built-in. I like the idea of a contrasting color. But definitely not mint green.)

Dear plants, Thank you.

2011-03-20T19:36:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I saw the first spring sprouts piercing the ground.

This week I saw flowers. Actual flowers! I was so happy I had to stop and take a photo, even though I was already running late for work. I don't know what this shrub is, but I gave it a big thank you for being an early bloomer. Earlier even than crocuses and daffodils. Thank you shrub!

And let's not forget the forsythia. Thank you forsythia!

Big Law: Oy Vey

2011-03-18T22:48:00.000-04:00

A certain company has been courting my law firm. Recently, this company organized a dinner and invited a number of the firm's partners to attend.

Pretty Big City has a substantial Jewish population. So does my law firm. The menu for this dinner?

First course: A soup with ham.
Second course: Seared scallops.
Main course: Roasted pork loin.

At least dessert was cupcakes. Said Assigning Partner, "Aren't they going to sprinkle them with bacon bits?"

Settling In (Living Room Edition)

2011-03-15T20:00:00.053-04:00

It [fortunately] has been quiet on the homefront the past week. This is a relief because GF and I have pretty much decided that we really don't want the upheaval of another move. We only moved into this place in July and we're still settling in.

And speaking of which, we have only one more room to repaint and we're committed to doing that before the warmer weather is upon us. Who wants to be inside painting on a beautiful spring weekend? Not I.

In the meantime, here's a first peek into what we've done so far.

Room #1: The Living Room

BEFORE: Before we moved in, the living room was cream and, of course, housed the prior tenants' stuff.

AFTER: I have a general aversion to cream (and white) walls. Why use cream or white when plenty of other colors serve as wonderful neutrals? I personally lean toward colors with a grey base for this purpose. For example, for the living room, we opted for a green-grey. We like its coolness as backdrop for otherwise warm furnishings. Other than paint, we have purchased nothing new. Its all about making do with what we have.

Our couch is actually a sleigh day bed. It takes a twin size mattress so is great for overflow guests.

One of my favorite pieces of art is this batick from India of a crouched woman looking into a hand mirror.

We think that the star lamp adds a touch of fun.

A Mexican mirror fills the void where a working fireplace once was.

The pocket doors open up to the dining room.

This love seat was a filthy, old cast-off that I found on the side of the road several years ago. But I liked its shape and the wooden arms and trim, so I loaded it up, took it home, gutted it down to the frame, and refinished and reupholstered it. To the left are a couple of small pieces of African art. The piece to the far left is a marriage comb, and the piece to the right is a bronze casting of a figure riding a lizard.

It is surprisingly heavy, but if I were Iris Apfel, I would wear it as a pendant anyway.

Springing Ahead = Spring is Ahead

2011-03-13T17:54:00.000-04:00

I've never been able to fully appreciate poetry in its written form. I don't know why. Some of the best performances I've seen are spoken word performances (see e.g., Stacey Ann Chin), which seems to suggest that I need an energetic and charismatic medium to bring the words to life. But this weekend, when I walked outside and saw this, it made me think of the one poem I've ever managed to memorize.

"It is so pleasing,

not to be freezing."

--Spring, author unknown

Big Law: Small Successes

2011-03-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

I was sick as a dog last week and the week before. Not with the flu (thank you flu shot), but with a nasty cold that just would not give up. After a week, my colleagues in neighboring offices were begging me to stop coming in. I did work from home one day, but had too much on my plate otherwise.

On a day when I was feeling particularly lousy but was at work regardless, I received a surprise email. An attorney in a far away state had come across an article that I recently had published in a publication geared toward attorneys in this region and in my practice area. He was requesting permission to use it in a CLE.

I felt really honored; I've only been practicing for a couple of years so these types of things are still meaningful. Later that day I mentioned this little turn of events to Assigning Partner. The next thing I knew she'd sent an email to every partner in my practice area. The email must have also made it to the firm's managing partners because the following morning one of them stopped by my office to offer congratulations.

This is why I am fortunate to work where I do. Yes, there are those days where I want to smack someone upside the head with a redweld. But in the end, I work with really good people. People who celebrate my successes, no matter how small.

Bat Sh*t Crazy III

2011-03-07T22:38:00.000-05:00

This weekend I visited the back yard to check on my moped. It is wintering there, tucked beneath the lower back deck to protect it from the elements.

The first thing I noticed was that its cover had blown off, which surprised me because that had never happened before. But then I realized that if the cover had actually blown off, it would be across the yard bunched up against the fence. Instead, it was lying next to the moped.

The second thing I noticed was that its seat was covered in what looked like wet barley.

What the heck??!!

Bat Sh*t Crazy II

2011-03-03T08:00:00.013-05:00

Things are getting curious-er and curious-er around here. You may remember that one of our two sets of neighbors went bat sh*t crazy a few weeks ago. Well, we haven't heard anything from them since then. (We're still waiting for that apology). But there have been some mysterious, unsigned notes around the common areas of the house as of late.

GF saw the first one. It read something like, "The chairs on our deck are moving around. This is a self-help note. The next time the chairs move, this note will come down."

What in the world does that mean?

We couldn't make sense of it. Moreover, by the time I left for work, a couple of hours after GF saw the note, it was already gone. Does that mean that the mystery chairs in question had in fact moved?

GF and I were willing to wager that the crazy neighbors wrote it, seeing as it is a crazy and non-sensical note. But then today GF spotted a piece of paper that had been blown underneath a chair that sits on the front porch of our house. This porch belongs to our [we thought] sane neighbors. Presumably it was previously taped to one of the chairs. As far as we can tell, these chairs have never moved anywhere. Regardless, the note was written in large print and colored marker and read something like, "Smile. You are being taped." Then, in small print and in pen, "For the second time."

What in the world does THAT mean?

Making Do

2011-03-01T20:59:00.000-05:00

In a few short weeks, I'll be wearing shorts and sandals and sunscreen. In the meantime, I'm making do with what we've got here.

The 9 Minute Mile

2011-02-21T16:25:00.001-05:00

I almost never watch awards shows. I say "almost" because last weekend's Grammy performances by Mumford & Sons and Arcade Fire made me tune in. In fact, I was so excited by Arcade Fire's "Best Album" win that I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. Instead, I wanted to transport back to the beautiful July night when I saw them in concert, which was, by the way, the best live show I've even attended.

But since I've yet to learn to travel back in time, I have to make do with dancing around my apartment. And running on the treadmill. Thanks to Arcade Fire, I'm running a 5k in less than 30 minutes. The magic 9-minute mile playlist?

The Suburbs (the 4 minute warm-up)
Ready to Start (jump up to speed 7 and stay there)
Empty Room
Keep the Car Running
Antichrist Television Blues
The Well and the Lighthouse

Oh, and guess who just scored tickets for Florence & the Machine this summer? Oh yeah.... :)

Big Law: Please, Waste My Time

2011-02-16T22:53:00.001-05:00

Yesterday late afternoon Snarky Partner told me that he'd be making a presentation at a business development event tonight. He asked me if I would present a certain portion. I've published two articles in the last four weeks, so I really, really didn't need any more non-billable time. But I appreciated that he was offering me an opportunity and of course I agreed.

This was not an insignificant event. Every member of my practice area was to be there. Plus some of the most senior members of the firm. Plus a dozen people from the company that invited us. I wanted it to go well. I spent 3 1/2 hours today preparing less than 10 minutes of remarks.

Snarky's presentation was great. He was charismatic and funny. And as he was wrapping up I anticipated his introduction of me for the last piece.

Instead, he concluded and turned the program over to our hosts.

3 1/2 hours of non-billable time.

Bat Sh*t Crazy

2011-02-10T08:00:00.004-05:00

When GF and I moved into our new apartment 6 months ago we were excited about the Neighbors. We'd briefly met them--one of the two other couples in the house--when we were looking at the place and we really liked them. On our first night here they baked us muffins. We had a lot in common--lesbian, attorney, love NPR, loathe the local cable company.... It was a match made in heaven.

On paper.

Soon we started to get a strange vibe from them. We couldn't really put a finger on it but it began with what seemed to be a deliberate shunning. Case in point, GF and I spent a large part of each weekend this summer and fall working in the yard surrounding our house, which was overgrown and unkempt when we moved in. We pulled a jungle of weeds, cleaned out underbrush, pruned trees, trimmed bushes, moved plants around, leveled ground, created garden beds, and readied the place for next spring's plantings. While we were outside working, neighbors from surrounding houses would comment on how nice things were looking. But Neighbors would walk by without even acknowledging our work, much less saying thank you. GF and I thought we were being overly sensitive.

On other occasions when we would run into them they were dismissive in a way that was borderline rude. GF and I told ourselves that they must be in a hurry.

And eventually they graduated to making little snide or contradictory comments. GF and I told ourselves that they must have competitive streaks.

But this past Sunday morning GF and I learned that they are actually bat sh*t crazy.

It all came to light when, drying myself off in the shower, I heard harsh voices coming from the house's common stairway. I dressed to discover GF standing in our open doorway in a stunned silence as Neighbors angrily berated her for egging their car.

Yes, that is correct. Egging their car.

Apparently, that morning or the night prior someone egged their car. They decided that it only could have been us because they'd parked in the spot that we'd recently been using. A retaliation egging. (We have street parking, and with all of the snow that Pretty Big City has seen this winter, people can get very protective of the parking spots that they've spent hours shoveling.)

We explained that we'd found a spot up the street upon arriving home on the night in question, but there was no reasoning with them. As they continued ranting, GF and I found it increasingly difficult to be sympathetic. It took all of our self control to hide our own growing anger.

Now, four days later, we remain bewildered. And mad. We've tried to be pleasant and helpful at every turn. We've let all of the little things go. We never complain when their dog barks. We've not only given up innumerable hours to the yard, but we've also taken to cleaning the common areas and making basic repairs. We often haul everyone's trash to and from the curb. Just a few weeks prior we pet sat for them with only a few hours notice when they were in a bind. Oh, and did I mention that we are the only people here without a vested interest? Yeah, we rent. But this house is condo-ized and the others own.

On Sunday night, after sufficient hours had passed that we trusted ourselves not to say anything we might later regret, we sent Neighbors a conciliatory email in which we said that we were taken aback by our interaction with them because we feel like we've been really good neighbors to them, but that we understand that they were upset about their car and we are prepared to write the whole thing off as a difficult day. We closed by saying that we hope for a good relationship going forward.

Their response? None.

So here we are, sharing drywall with two people who have wrongly accused and apparently decided to hate us. Already we are wondering if this is going to drive us to move.

Bat sh*t crazy. It pretty much sucks.

CONGRATULATIONS!

2011-02-09T09:40:00.002-05:00

A big, BIG congratulations to AG on her new job!

If you follow AG's blog (and you should), you know that she fell victim to a crappy economy and has spent the past year+ toiling away for an insane supervisor and catty co-workers in Cube World.

AG, I didn't know that I could be so thrilled for someone that I don't even know in person, but I am doing a happy dance over here for you. I am practically teary. And I can't wait to hear about the moment you give notice.

Big Law: Shopping Interruptus

2011-02-04T00:01:00.004-05:00

I'm not a big internet shopper. I like to see, touch, try on. I dislike paying for shipping or returns. But everyday at 11am I receive an email from Rue La La introducing me to all of the things that I should want to buy that day. If you know Rue La La, you know that you have an average of 3 seconds post-email to peruse the boutiques and make a purchase before everything sells out.

On most days I delete the email without even clicking through. But today there was an Elie Tahari boutique. It was mostly uninspired, but there was one very cute blouse.

See? I could dress it up, I could dress it down, the pattern would look great under a suit jacket, and the price was right.... I pick my size, throw it into my cart, and, just as my cursor is hovering over the "checkout" button, Senior Partner appears in my doorway.

Oh no.

He's smiley and sing-songy, which means that he's feeling chatty. I do my best to look very, very distracted, hoping that he'll take a hint. But sublety is lost on Senior Partner. He invites himself in. I shuffle through the mountain of papers on my desk. He responds by sinking deeply into a chair. He's talking. And talking. And TALKING. And with each word, precious moments are ticking away. Finally, after several minutes of non-substantive minutae, including a detailed description of where he parked his car the night before, he rises and goes on his merry way.

We all know how this ends. Senior Partner cost me a very cute blouse today. In do so, he also saved me $115. I guess I'll call it even.

Narcolepsy

2011-02-03T08:00:00.002-05:00

No caption necessary.

Big Law: You Know it When....

2011-02-01T22:44:00.000-05:00

You know you're over-worked and over-tired when people stop by your office to politely tell you that you look like sh*t.

Imagined Conversation

2011-01-30T18:40:00.001-05:00

Girl on Right: Wait, you're wearing all of your hats at once?

Girl on Left: Yeah, yeah I am. All of my coats too.

Girl on Right: I think I love you. These are all of my bags.

Sharpie Fashion

2011-01-23T09:00:00.000-05:00

Many of us have resigned ourselves to shelling out beaucoup bucks when, after what is often weeks or even months of searching, we finally, finally find the perfect pair of jeans. The perfect jeans encompass many things. The perfect cut, the perfect amount of stretch, the perfect softness, the perfect length, the perfect color, saturation and fade, and of course, the perfect whiskering.

Personally, I am partial to Citizens for Humanity's Ingrid. The classic boot cut, the dark wash, the faded seam that acts to elongate the line of the leg, the whiskering that runs down the inside of the thigh.... I've had my pair for seven years and I still feel fantastic every time I wear them.

By way of internet search I ran across this pair of Seven for All Mankind. Although not nearly as well designed as the Citizens, in my humble opinion, they aren't all bad. See how they've actually brought the whiskering down to the knee here? That's not without its charm.

But, what is a girl to do if she wants a little knee whiskering without the price tag that usually accompanies it?

Well, if you look really closely, you'll see that you can actually get your knees purring for the mere price of a Sharpie.

You are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine...

2011-01-21T09:00:00.003-05:00

Last winter was great; Pretty Big City got almost no snow. So little, in fact, that I only had to pull out the shovel once in four months.

This year we are making up for it in spades. We've already had two blizzards and the police are again out with the bullhorns tellling everyone to clear the snow emergency streets in preparation for more inches tonight and tomorrow. For this reason, GF and I decided that we needed to get a jump start on planning our annual March vacation.

March is the worst of all of the winter months here. You're convinced that any day you'll wake up to sprouting tree buds and crocuses and all other things spring, but instead every day is cold, damp, and sludgy. And while Pretty Big City has bright blue skies through much of winter, not so in March. March is grey.

March is time to get the hell out of Dodge.

Last year, GF and I traveled to Utah and Colorado for a week in March and spent everyday hiking and taking in surreal sites. It was my favorite vacation ever. Red rock country is definitely calling us back, but this year we opted for something completely different. This year's trip?

MIAMI! ... and...

KEY WEST!

If anyone has must-do, must-see recommendations, please share!