Buddy had a rough night.

Buddy, a 14 month old lab owned jointly by BH and me, had a rough night. BH takes an herbal supplement called melatonin to help him sleep. BH placed a single melatonin tablet on the coffee table as he went to the kitchen to get some water to take the pill with. Before he could return, Buddy managed to swallow the pill in one gulp. I panicked, thinking he would surely go to sleep and not wake up. After BH reasoned with me and convinced me that we hadn't just killed our dog, we took the dogs along for a ride to McDonald's to get an ice cream cone.

After we purchased our late night snack and in route to BH's house, we were rear-ended by a car at a red light. Buddy, bless his heart, bounced off the back of my seat and landed in a crumpled mess in the back seat, only to hop back up and stick his head out the window to check out the cause of the commotion. I asked BH to role up the windows to prevent the dogs from escaping. In this process, we managed to role poor Buddy's head up in the window. After much thrashing around and flailing, we managed to free him from the window and secure him safely in the back seat while BH dealt with the aforementioned rear-ender.

After taking a melatonin, surviving a car accident, and then having his head rolled up in a window, he slept rather soundly last night. Bless his little heart. If he made it through yesterday, he might be with us for the long haul.

Twice! Yes, two times!

Twice in the last two days (yes, two times) I have tripped on myself and fallen in the office. TWICE!

Yesterday my heel of my shoe got caught in the cuff of my pants and when I tried to march ahead, I found myself with my face in the fake ficus and the rest of my sprawled out across the carpet.

Today I got my shoe caught in my un-cuffed pants somehow and actually tripped and slid across the carpet in the hall. A nice carpet burn on my palm and shattered pride resulting.

Just evidence that I am so clumsy it physically hurts.

Previously mentioned nuptuals

It was such an honor to stand with my beautiful friend at her wedding! How incredible does she look?!

We had so much fun at the wedding, Brit.

Weddings, Fall TV, and What-Not

I have failed entirely to blog regularly, as I had promised. I blame it on the fact that my home computer is broken. My laptop has some sort of lose something-or-other inside that won't allow it to get a charge or charge the battery. In other words, I have the world's most expensive paperweight on my desk.

One of my dearest friends was married last month. It was a tremendous wedding and an even better reception. Kudos to Britta for a great, great time.

Another one of my best friends has managed to break the binds of the all-too-powerful billable hour and has decided to use her law degree to protect the public by prosecuting dirty-rotten scoundrels. I'm so proud of her!

My dear sister is still working away in North Carolina. Busy as a (little)bee, but keeping her head above water. Hopefully I'll make my way to her new digs over Thanksgiving.

As Fall television has started, it has been even more difficult to keep up with the blogging duties. I've been thinking about Lost for about 4 days now and still don't think I know what in the heck is going on. And what the heck is up with the guy locked in the basement on Desparate Housewives? I remember evening TV used to consist of Moonlighting and Facts of Life. Maybe a little Dukes of Hazard. With the exception of Twighlight Zone, everything was relatively, well, recognizable. When did our world get so weird that the public reflection of its self through art turned into a plane crash on an island with a quarantined capsule, a group of fishing pirates, and dead people who show up at the weirdest times? Maybe tv has turned from art and a reflection of society to nothing more than a diversion. Art for art's sake. There ain't nothing wrong with that if the result is Jack jumping down a capsule hatch to find Kate. Oh yeah, there ain't nothing wrong with that.

Laboring

I returned last night from a Labor Day trip to Austin. Boyfriend and I went to visit a friend of his from school and friends of mine from law school (hello Meredith!). It was a delightful trip and such a nice little 36 hour excursion. Part of our trip saw us eating at the Oasis perched above beautiful Lake Travis, which started me thinking... Labor Day has turned into a day for all to enjoy the last moments of summer with friends and family, usually on a lake. I see absolutely no harm in it, but I just don't see how it honors the "laborers" all that much. In fact, while watching the ski boats pass below, it occurred to me that I don't even know why we celebrate Labor Day or what the day is supposed to memorialize. So, being the curious gal that I am, I looked it up.

The reason I didn't know why we celebrate Labor Day is because there really isn't a reason we celebrate the day. Interesting... According to the Department of Labor:

"Labor Day differs in every essential way from the other holidays of the year in any country," said Samuel Gompers, founder and longtime president of the American Federation of Labor. "All other holidays are in a more or less degree connected with conflicts and battles of man's prowess over man, of strife and discord for greed and power, of glories achieved by one nation over another. Labor Day...is devoted to no man, living or dead, to no sect, race, or nation." Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.

So, for all of us who enjoy the day on the lake (or watching those on the lake), good for us! We are laborers and have earned one day to celebrate our contributions to the country! I hope this public service announcement has been as interesting for you as it has been for me.

Vacation... how could I have forgotten?!

I forgot to mention that the last 90 days also saw my sister and I in glorious blessed Mexico for a few days. (Pictoral proof included... Amy kicking water while reading. What a tough life we have.) Before she started her new life chapter in North Carolina, we decided to take a sibling vacation and just enjoy one another. It was a fabulous time.

Remember me?!

Long time, no blog. I suspect I have lost the tons (er, three) people that actually read this thing, but I am going to attempt to restart my occasional accounts of the clumsy life of me.

I'll give a short run down of the last three months:

Job - good. Better than old job. More interesting and bringing excitement and moments of joy.

Boyfriend - very good. Loving and wonderful. Couldn't be luckier.

Weight - suck-o. Couldn't be heavier or more disappointed in weight loss efforts. Surely will be subject of future entries.

Music - awesome. Since last entry had the honor of seeing Green Day live. Holy snot. It was freakin' awesome. The energy was fantastic and the music was exceptional.

Residence - changed to Fort Worth. Great new apartment that I am still trying to unpack. Enjoy being closer to job and boyfriend.

And that is the basic factoids of the past 90ish days. I'll try to be more vigilant in entertaining all of you with my stories of weight loss, clumsiness, music adventures, and the like. In the mean time, send some cash to the Red Cross to help out our cajun neighbors.

Mojito

Today was my last day at the Dallas law firm I have called work-home for the last two and a half years. I am going to miss the daily contact with some of the friends I have there, but I have no doubt that it was time to change.

In honor of my departure, a few of my work friends and I went to Cuba Libre and drank mojitos for a couple of hours. The mojito... quite possibly the best concoction created since chocolate chip cookies. A magical combination of rum and soda, sugar and mint, and that hint of lime that adds just the right contrast to the sweetness. Good gracious, it is a wonderful, wonderful thing. At Cuba, one of my long-time fav Dallas drinking locations, you can order these blessed potions by the pitcher. For a mere $25 you, too, can experience an entire pitcher of this delight.

I start my new job in Fort Worth on Monday... my search for Fort Worth's perfect drink will start shortly thereafter. Check back for reports on the quest.

Cow Town

Go west, young woman! On May 23, 2005, I will join the working masses in Fort Worth, Texas. I have decided to hang up my Big D hat, travel along I-30, and become a school law attorney in Cow Town. Yee-ha!

To be honest, leaving my first "real" job is not easy. I have made many friends, and I will miss the daily contact with all of them. My boss, for example, has been a tremendous mentor to me. He has taught me so much about the practice of law generally, and representing municipalities specifically. I feel so fortunate to have started my law school career under his guidance.

But onward and upward! I have decided to take an opportunity in Fort Worth that will allow me to fully focus my career on the representation of Texas public schools. Fortunate and blessed, indeed.

Long Time Comin'

If music is the fluid that moves a spirit, Bruce Springsteen is the flood that my soul needed.

Since my last post, I have aimed to submerge myself in music--all kinds of music--in an attempt to lift my spirits. I am listening to classic music at work. I have stopped listening to talk radio on my way home from work and have opted for CDs. And on Friday night, BH and I went to my very first (and BH's zillionth) Bruce Springsteen concert.

In all honesty, I never really "got" Springsteen. His CD's are ok, but nothing I was just bonkers over. I always enjoyed the poetic-ness of his songs, but never enough to really call myself a fan. And then, oh my goodness then, I saw him live. Springsteen is much like hockey in this one regard... it's a whole new monster in person.

Springsteen's passion is unparalleled. He feels his music so deeply that you cannot help but let yourself absorb into the moment. He played with a spontaneity I have never encountered. There was no set play list; he simply let the mood move him. The concert, Devils and Dust, features Springsteen, a harmonica, a piano, and a series of impressive guitars. The concert is truly just a man and his music. The talent that it takes to transfix 6,000 people for 3 hours with nothing but the air in your lungs and the strumming of a guitar is almost unfathomable.

Springsteen's most amazing gift, though, is his storytelling. He tells stories between songs and in his music. Very few of the songs have choruses; they are songs that force you to sit back, listen, think, and feel. This storytelling talent allows you to escape in his poetry and relate to him on what feels like an almost intrusively personal level. At the end of the concert, I felt like I knew him. I felt like I had been given the privilege of peering into his heart. He told me a story, and I listened. We all listened. And I am better for having heard what he had to say.

Green Day mood

I have been in a kind of funk lately. I think this less-than-good-mood was brought on by a number of factors, including job boredom, frustration with weight loss, desire for financial stability, etc. I have analyzed this mood and the possible reasons for it for the past month or so. Last night I realized that I had overlooked one very important possible component.

I was driving to BH's house with my moon-roof open and the newest Green Day album (American Idiot--awesome, by the way) blaring when I realized that I don't really listen to music anymore. I listen to a talk-radio station (or NPR) in the morning on my way to work; I listen to another talk-radio program on my home from work, and I listen to the television when I get home. Somehow, I have managed to obliterate music from all parts of my life. My closest encounter with a melody comes when I'm on hold and subjected to elevator tunes. Maybe this musical oversight has something to do with my lack of peppiness. Science has established that a lack of sunshine can cause depression... maybe a lack of music can do the same.

Some of my happiest teenage moments, the moments I felt most free, were driving aimlessly in deep-unpopulated-west Texas with (forgive me for this) Ace of Base or Concrete Blondes or Green Day's Kerplunk booming through my cheap 1992 Cavalier speakers. Something about the pounding of the chorus and the acceleration of the car came together to make all my worries slip away along with my hearing. How could I have forgotten that long-ago feeling of freedom? How could I have forgotten that I can get lost in guitar riffs and feel my pulse race when a drum solo shakes the car? For a moment last night, while listening to a Green Day album that brought me back to my years of high school, I remembered. And for that moment, I was happy. Truly, freely, teenage-kind of happy.

I'm going to strive to re-introduce music into my daily life. I have a feeling that I need it as much as I need the sunshine. And if by some miracle of the blogging world Green Day ever sees this... thanks.

What can Brown do for you?

I will begin this blog entry by admitting the fact that I did not witness the events that I am about to recount, but have heard about them through my boyfriend (whom I will refer to as BH to protect his identity ), a key player in this story.

UPS tried to deliver a package to BH just the other day. BH was not at home at the delivery time, so he decided to go to the UPS building to pick up his package. BH decided to take the kids with him. BH and I are the proud parents of a 3 year old German shepard (Tanner) and a 7 month old lab (Buddy). For more on Buddy, see entry "My Dog Has Good Taste."

When BH returned to the car after retrieving his package, he found Buddy in the front seat. BH opened the front door and told Buddy to get in the back seat, a command Tanner obeys without hesitation. True to form, Buddy did not get in the back seat, but instead jumped out of the car and raced around in circles, forcing BH to chase him.

After a brief race, BH captured the hellion and opened the back door to put Buddy in the car. Tanner, either trying to help or bending to Buddy's bad influence, jumped out of the car. Just about this time, Buddy managed to slip from his collar and began the race around the car again. Tanner, on the other hand, ran for building.

UPS has weight sensitive automatic sliding doors. Tanner weighs almost 100 pounds. Despite BH's intense prayers, the doors slid open and Tanner ran inside. BH had visions of Tanner being trapped inside, panicking, and scaring the holy crap out of the poor men in brown shorts. Thankfully, Tanner had the good fortune to run outside before the doors slid closed again.

About this time, BH caught Buddy, the initiator of the Malay, and got Tanner back in the car. All were safe and sound. If children are half as rambunctious a labs, I suspect we might want to re-think having a family... or at least taking the family to UPS.

Noble public servants

My boyfriend is considering going into law enforcement. Many people, upon learning of this plan, have asked me if I have a problem with my boyfriend exploring such a dangerous career. My response is always that I could not be more proud of a man who is willing to put himself into danger's way in order to protect the public. There is no more noble endeavor.

Just a couple of weeks ago, in Tyler, Texas, a man shot and killed law enforcement officers, his ex-wife, and an innocent by-stander on the front steps of the courthouse... a courthouse that I have entered a number of times in my short career as an attorney. It is so very strange to think that on any given day, I could have been on those steps.

And then, just yesterday, a man shot and killed a law enforcement officer, a judge, and a court reporter in a courthouse in Atlanta. Public servants, all three, lost their lives simply because of their career choice. They were murdered while going about their daily business.

My heart is filled with sadness every time someone loses their life, but the injustice of a public servant being slain is almost unbearable. I have unmeasurable respect for anyone who is willing to take a job in the public sector. A police officer's sole responsibility is to protect and serve the community. A judge's calling is to dispense justice and help find resolutions to conflicts in a peaceful manner. While most people go to work to earn a living, these public servants go to work to make the lives of those in the community better and safer.

My heart goes out to the family and friends of those public servants who have lost their lives while going about their noble business. And to my dear boyfriend, I will honestly say that I could not be more proud of your choice to serve the public.

Rooting for the bad guy

A few days ago my sister asked me why I don't often write about serious topics. I tend to tell a funny story and make me people laugh or at least smile. I find that "serious" topics are much more difficult to pull off well. With that being said, something has been chewing on my mind lately...

I have recently become concerned with the entertainment world's tendency to force society to root for the bad guy. Examples of this trend are found everywhere you turn. In Ocean's Eleven, you find yourself hoping that Clooney and his gang successfully steal millions of dollars from a casino. Within the first five minutes of The Italian Job you are cheering for the thieves to get away with bricks of gold.

And it isn't just the thieves we root for... one of today's most successful television shows is The Sopranos, where you pray Tony doesn't get nabbed by the feds. And we have The Shield, where bad-guy policemen serve as your hero.

The music-world is even worse because we're told to support real-life bad guys. A rapper has no "street-cred" until he's been shot a few times, e.g. my personal fav, 50 cent. The "bad guy"
is the guy we root for, the guy whose records we buy... we're forced into the bad guy's corner.

When we are manipulated into cheering for the criminals, the violence, and the cheaters, are we not being fooled into bending our ethics? We willingly fall into the trap of wanting the bad guy to get away, but are we also letting our sense of right and wrong get away with that bad guy? Are we teaching our children that sometimes the bad guy deserves to get away without punishment, or, worse yet, there is fame and fortune and fans when you are the bad guy. Surely we are not knowingly instilling this morality, or actually lack there of, in the next generation.

We complain about today's adolescents not respecting authority and losing past generations' ideas about ethics and what it means to be a good citizen, but can we blame them? We've placed the next generation in front of the television and, even if unintentionally, induced them to cheer for mob bosses, crooked cops, thieves, and murders.

I am one of the world's biggest First Amendment advocates and believe that the entertainment world has every right to provide us with films, television, and music that presents the "bad guy" as the hero. I am simply hoping that we, as an informed society, will at the very least take the time to realize that we're being duped into cheering for characters that do not share our ethics, our morals, or even our innate sense of justice. Just be conscious of the fact that you are rooting for the bad guy.

Skinny French Women

I'm reading a best seller right now called French Women Don't Get Fat. I picked up the book thinking (1) I want to know how to get un-fat and (2) I want to know how to get un-fat and still eat cream sauces. It really does sound too good to be true... eat like the French and don't turn into a walrus. My boyfriend says they don't get fat because of all the cigarettes. There might be some truth to that, but the author has not yet mentioned that as part of the French philosophy. I'll let you know how it turns out...

Red Platform Sneakers

I have recently decided to start an exercise program. I have a cheap version of an elliptical in my apartment (a Gazelle) that I use frequently. I also like to do Dance Dance Revolution on my Playstation. I have a gym in my apartment complex that is free to use because I am a resident. The problem with this gym is that it is full of skinny people who work out in their makeup and miraculously do not sweat. I, on the other hand, turn various shades of red and purple and spurt salty water like a whale when I exert any sort of energy. No one likes to be the one thing unlike the others, so I had not utilized this gym in the last year and a half.

In the last couple of weeks I have started to wish that I had a real elliptical. Last Friday I decided that it was time to use the elliptical at the gym. What was the worst thing that could happen? The skinny people could laugh and point at the heavy, sweaty, red girl on the elliptical, but I could survive that... So on the way home from work I drove past the gym and saw only one person working out. A perfect time to go and try it out!

I went up to my apartment and put on my workout shorts and a t-shirt. At this point I realized that I had left my tennis shoes at the my boyfriend's house. I scanned my closet for an alternate option. Much to my dismay, I have only one other pair of shoes that even resembles an athletic shoe... a pair of red, platform Tommy Hilfiger sneakers. Well, I was determined at this point, so I swallowed my pride and put on these fire-engine-red shoes and headed to the gym.

By the time I got to the gym, there were at least 6 people there and only one elliptical machine left. And it was next to a guy. An athletic, good-looking guy. Ugh. I got on the elliptical and started my workout. The entire front wall of the gym is mirrored, so every time I lifted one of my legs I saw flashes of red shoes and realized that I was, in fact, the most embarrassing specimen of a gym attendee I had ever seen. Amazingly, not a single person laughed.

After what felt like an eternity but was actually only three (THREE!) minutes, I thought my legs were going to fall off and I was going to hallucinate. Here's the dilemma... I have already looked like a fool coming in the gym in red sneakers (platforms, nonetheless) and have only been on this torture contraption for three minutes... they would surely laugh if I left at this point. So I continued to huff and puff and stayed on the elliptical for 25 (TWENTY-FIVE!) minutes. Whoa. Do you remember the scene in Bridget Jones' Diary when she rides the exercise bike so hard she literally falls off? Well, I didn't fall off, but it was a very close call, as I could no longer feel my legs and my platform sneakers were only a hindrance at this point.

I managed to walk out of the gym in a relatively dignified manner and turn the corner before I bent over at the waste and prayed that I wouldn't vomit. After the struggle back up to my second floor apartment a quarter of a mile away, I sat on my living room floor, drank a liter and a half of water, and wondered what had possessed me that this was a good idea.

I got my regular athletic shoes from my boyfriend the next day and am pleased to announce that I have gone back to the gym three times in dignified clothing. I have not felt like I was going to vomit or hallucinate since that first evening. I don't fear the pretty, skinny people at the gym any more. If the didn't laugh at me in red platform sneakers, they probably never will.

Water, water everywhere

In effort to "live a healthier life" (see blog on resolutions), I have started drinking water--a lot of water. I know that drinking plenty of water will help rid your body of toxins, help you lose weight, make your skin look better, etc. I also know that drinking the 10-12 eight ounce glasses of water a day that I aim for is causing me to make many a trip to the ladies' room. My skin is already looking better and I feel like my system is a bit "cleaner," so maybe it's working. The trips to the ladies' room, though, is hindering my resolution on working smarter. It's always something, isn't it?

My dog has good taste

My boyfriend and I have a four and a half month old Labrador Retriever that is just as black as black can be. His name is Buddy, and he is, indeed, everyone's buddy. I have never encountered an animal with so much energy and such an ability to create chaos. In a matter of moments he can urinate on the floor, bounce over to the coffee table, use one of his gigantic paws to break a glass full of soda, and lick the skin off of the lower half of my face. I'm telling you, this kid is a hand full.

The other night I was sitting on the sofa, playing tug-a-war with dear Buddy. He tired of the game and jumped onto the sofa to give some kisses. Buddy loves the kisses. He made his way to my ear and I suddenly felt a sharp pain. Buddy had managed to bite my earring out of my ear and swallow it before I even knew what had happened. Days later we found the back of the earring in the sofa, but I am fearful the little silver heart the embellished my right ear lobe has vanished forever. That particular set of earrings were a gift I gave myself after graduating from law school... a bright, shiny pair of sterling silver earrings from Tiffany's. My dog has good taste.

Resolutions

My new year’s resolutions (how cliché, I know…)

Listen more. For the entirety of my life I have unapologetically been a talker. I tend to join every conversation, start up chats with strangers, and (sadly) sometimes even fail to hear what someone else is saying because I am merely listening for the opportunity to interject my own comment. I like that I am talker, but I am fearful that I have missed many a wonderful thought because I simply failed to listen. I am resolved to not only hear others, but to listen to what they are saying.

Work smarter. I like to think that I am appearing to work frequently enough, but I often find that I am not working wisely. I do a lot of sitting and mind wandering and day dreaming and internet shopping. I could be much more productive at work if I attempted to actually work. I am resolved to stay on focus more and to work smarter.

Set up housekeeping. I have my own apartment that has its own kind of charm… when it’s clean. I really, really need to put the dishes in the dishwasher as soon as I’m finished using them. I need to pick up all of my miscellaneous belongings before I go to bed each net. I need to hang up my clothes as soon as they are out of the dryer. I am resolved to set up housekeeping… for real.

And the most cliché of all—live a healthier life. I must eat healthier, exercise more, take my vitamins, have quiet time, etc. I mean it this time. Really. Stop smirking.

Blinded by Christmas

Well, Christmas has come and gone and, thankfully, I still have my vision. Well, some vision. My eyesight is absolutely dreadful, but more on that later. I'm always amazed at how busy the holiday season gets... parties and presents and family gatherings and what-not. I always get so excited about the upcoming events and then it all seems to pass in a blur. This year, the blur was both figurative and literal.

My sister, boyfriend and I piled about a zillion packages and all of our luggage into the car and made our way to the grand town of Roswell, NM, where my grandparents' happy home sits amongst other elderly alien-believers. It's not a short drive (6.5 hours or so), nor is it a scenic journey. We passed 256 tubmleweeds, 12 gas stations, one million oil pumps, and an armadillo.

Anyway, my grandparents' home is much like a New Mexican north pole. There is a life size Santa on the front porch, along with an operational train and toy car that would delight any toddler. Inside is crammed full of angels that light up, Santas that sing and dance, and little ice skaters that magically twist and turn on a plastic surface. Since my boyfriend joined us on this journey, he was rewarded with the guest bedroom while my sister and I were banished to inflatable beds in the living room. It's better than the floor... but not much.

It was while sleeping on this inflatable bed in the middle of the Christmas chaos that I awoke to a scorching pain in my right eye and through to the back of my head. I ran to the bathroom to find that my eye was blood-red, my face was starting to swell, and I couldn't see out of that eye. By no means a pleasant turn of events. I took my contacts out (something I should have done before I went to sleep... I know, I know), took a Bendaryl because my sister said that might help, and tried to go back to sleep. After praying that my eye didn't fall out or explode in my head, I managed to slide back into a nap.

The next morning the entire right side of my face was swollen, but the redness and turned to a more mild and less scary pink. My vision was horribly blurred, but the pain wasn't quite as sharp. I called my optometrist and he assured me that my cornea was not going to explode out of my head and set up an appointment for me once I returned to Texas. Within two days my vision was relatively back to normal and I was convinced that I wasn't going to die.

I have since learned that if you wear your contacts for too long, your body will start to think that the contacts are the enemy and will try to fight them off, hence the swelling. Stupid body... those contacts are the only way I can see to make sure the rest of me doesn't get hit by a bus. Anyway, I managed to scratch the lens of my right eye during that battle (hence redness and blurriness).

So let this be a lesson to you all... unless you want your holidays to be a literal blur, take your contacts out before you settle down for a long winter's nap.

I hope all of you out there had a pleasant Christmas, and I wish you a very happy new year.