Oh, the places you'll go

When Scott received his first paycheck from his new job, the first thing I did was calculate how long it would take us to pay off our student loans, now that we were working with two incomes again.  I know.  Super lame.  Fortunately for me, I married a man who hates debt as much as I do, so he didn't serve me with divorce papers when I asked told him I was going to start throwing his entire income (along with a large portion of mine) to our loans.  Although our student debt is staggering (an MBA and a JD don't come cheap), by my calculations, I concluded we would be able to move from red to black within two years, barring any additional "unforeseen disruptions" in our cash flow.  Considering the fact that we've seen a sizable amount of our income shunted off into the black hole of loan repayment for pretty much the entire six years we've been married ($56,088.33 and counting), the prospect of being completely debt-free in two years is pretty tantalizing.  This got me thinking of what we would do with the extra $2,507 per month that will suddenly be classified as "disposable income" once we've paid in full the loans that financed the extra letters at the end of our names.  Just one year of saving the money previously earmarked for loans would exceed $30,000.  Not too shabby.  At first I thought, "We'd finally be able to afford to buy a decent house, cable television and a new car!"  That would definitely be a very grown up thing to do, right?  Buy a nice house in a good neighborhood, get the little luxuries we currently forego, put down roots, and continue to work our way up the career ladder in our respective fields.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I don't want that.  In fact, I want the exact opposite of that.  I want to pare down my possessions to the bare essentials, toss it all in a storage locker, and go be homeless for as long as my savings will sustain me.  Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the workday is staring at the travel photos on my wall and reminding myself that there is an amazing world outside the confines of my office, and at one point in time, I was actually there.  The more time that passes, the more I realize that I don't want to be that person who spent her entire life being an extremely adept attorney, but was too practical and too "mature" to take big risks and do all the things she really wanted to do in life.  I want to see new places, experience different cultures, eat weird food and meet new people.  I want to scuba dive The Great Barrier Reef and walk the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.  I want to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa during the day time and eat really good sushi in Japan.  This has been a persistently nagging desire of mine for quite some time.    The first time I pitched it to Scott, his response was  not quite as enthusiastic as I had hoped.  This, of course, was almost two years ago, when our life circumstances were quite different.  When I put the idea out there again two weeks ago, his response could not have been more perfect: He brought home a huge, laminated map of the world, which he promptly hung in our bedroom.  He presented me with a dry erase marker, and told me to start circling the places I want to go.  The answer is everywhere.  With my favorite travel companion on board, I am determined to make this happen.          

Shoulda put a ring on it.

I love being married, but apparently I'm the worst ever when it comes to remembering to wear the physical evidence of my matrimonial union.  Scott never misses an opportunity to comment on my inherent ability to dash out the door, sans wedding ring.  I always assure him that we're still married, even if I don't sport my bling.  It's not that I dislike my ring; I picked it out and it is a decidedly fabulous piece, but when I'm heading out to face the day, I'm usually focused on how late I'm running, rather than how complete my ensemble is.  Yesterday, I was out taking a walk during my lunch break and listening to an audiobook on my ipod, which is how I motivate myself to tolerate the rest of the workday.  As I was walking, I crossed the road at one point, to take advantage of the sunnier side of the street.  There was a random guy walking several yards ahead of me on the side of the street from which I had just crossed, and he also decided to cross the street shortly after I did, ending up again, several yards ahead of me.  Because I tend to walk pretty fast, I came up behind him, and moved over to the side of the sidewalk, preparing to pass and continue on my way.  I hate sharing the road/sidewalk/world with slow moving people.  But that is another story entirely.  As I passed Slow-moving-random-guy, he decided that would be a good time to strike up a conversation.  I missed the first part of what he said (because I had in earphones), but generally the polite thing to do when someone talks to you is not to ignore them entirely.  So I slightly slowed my pace and popped one earphone out.  The exchange went something like this...

Slow-moving-random-guy: "Out exercising in this 70 degree weather, huh?"

Me: "Oh yes,  I have to take advantage of the sunshine before it starts raining and doesn't stop until next June."

Slow-mowing-random-guy:  "So, I notice that you're quite attractive, and I was wondering if you'd like to go out for coffee sometime?"

Me: (Looks down at left hand, preparing to point to the ring finger that contains the physical evidence of the truth I am about to impart.  Cartoonish pause as I realize my ring is probably sitting on my nightstand, rather than gracing my finger.  Mentally thinking, Oh come on!  Really?) "Um, I'm married...(waves left hand that doesn't have a ring on it)  But thanks though."

At that point, I popped my earphones back in and nonchalantly started run/walking myself out of there.  First of all, what the what????  Second of all, who does that?  I'm fairly certain I was sending all the proper "do not disturb" signals.  Earphones, check.  Dark sunglasses to avoid direct eye contact, check.  Walking pace that no one can keep up with, check.  But apparently when it comes to avoiding awkwardly unexpected encounters that are best left to a club or online dating website, diamonds are a girl's best friend.            

Back on the proverbial track

Am I the worst blogger in the world, or what?  When I was in school, it seemed like there was always some sort of ridiculousness upon which to comment; some humorous anecdote to send out into the cyberspace void.  And then I graduated, got a big girl job (that I can't always blog about, even when blogworthy stuff happens), and suddenly my life devolved into the very predictable routine in which I currently find myself.  Does awesome stuff no longer happen when you officially make that transition into adulthoodland?  I have to believe that is not true.  In fact, a lot of awesome stuff has happened as of late.  It just seems I'm too lazy to bother committing it to print with any sort of regularity.  So here's a photographic rundown of life lately...

  

And of course the best news of all: Scott got a new job! It has been a long and trying year and a half, but of course things worked out just the way they were supposed to.  He'll be wrapping up his MBA in December, and we'll finally be done with school forever and ever amen. I finally feel like things are getting back on track for us, (after what seemed like a very long detour) and I couldn't be happier about that.  So here's to life, which just keeps getting better and better...even if I don't always find the time to blog about it!!

Don't forget the lyrics

At our house, a favorite pastime is singing loud and proud together to random songs at pretty much every opportune moment and some not so opportune moments.  Between the two of us, we add up to one awesome singer: I know the lyrics to just about every song, and Scott has a great singing voice.  Of course, the obvious flip side of that arrangement is the fact that I have a most unpleasant singing voice, and Scott knows the lyrics to a select handful of Linkin Park songs, and that's about it.  This morning while listening to some classic Oasis, Scott started to belt to "Wonderwall."  Such a great song.  But as the song continued, I noticed that Scott was keeping pace with every word.  Most uncharacteristic.  I was actually starting to be impressed...until...

Me: "Hey, you're reading the lyrics!  Cheater!"

Scott: "What?  As long as I serenade you, does it really matter how I do it?"

Hmmm.  I didn't have a good response for that.  I can't argue with a good serenading.  But if Pandora makes it possible for Scott to be the better singer AND know the words, what's a mediocre singer like me supposed to do with that???         

You've got mail

I don't usually write mushy love posts about how amazing my husband is, because that's not my style and I tend to roll my eyes when I see other people spout such drivel in their social media communications. It seems like a given that you love your spouse, and if you're always shouting it from the digital rooftops, it makes me think that perhaps you "protesteth too much," to borrow from my good friend Will Shakespeare. Anyway, I'm making an exception to my rule to share this little nugget of awesomeness that transpired at our house last week. I am seriously married to the most amazing man ever. Scott received a piece of mail from the Republican National Committee last week. That's right, a form letter from the desk of Reince Priebus himself. My darling spouse happens to be a registered Republican, while I myself happen to be aligned with the Dems. Not to worry, politics are not a sore spot in our relationship. Anyway, as we were standing in the kitchen sifting through the mail, Scott pulled out this letter from the RNC and proceeded to read it aloud. No small feat, since the letter was several pages long. As he read phrases like "nation in peril, "socialized medicine," and my personal favorite, "rescue our future from the Liberals," I felt my annoyance level tick upward. I could only shake my head at the proud reference to the 2010 midterm election that swept many new Republicans into office, but the convenient omission of the fact that Congress's current approval ratings are at an all time low. I was not surprised to see the RNC trolling for donations, but it slightly infuriated me to have that kind of extreme, untempered, fear-mongering right wing propaganda make its way in my home. As Scott neared the end of the lengthy diatribe about how our nation is going to hell in a handbasket because the liberals are ruining absolutely everything, I wondered what Scott's reaction would be. Though we find ourselves in differing political camps, we're both moderate enough that our views are pretty much the same on most issues. After finishing the letter, Scott let out a mirthless laugh and proceeded to tear the letter into pieces. I held out the return envelope, (which the RNC had presumptuously included for the collection of donations that would surely come rolling in in response to the inflammatory solicitation) and Scott dropped the shredded remains of the letter into it. I've always known I married an incredible man, but at that moment, it became readily apparent that my selection was pretty much the marital equivalent of winning the Powerball.

Cease and desist (and how to respond when a lawyer starts throwing out redundant statements)

This may be the best response to a legal threat that I've ever read. And I'm jealous that it never occurred to me to close my letters with "Word to yo mamma."

Score one for the good guys

The following account is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent...and for comedic purposes. As you may or may not know, we recently moved out of the apartment we called home for the last two years. The circumstances that precipitated the move involved a shockingly unreasonable rent hike and overall ridiculousness on the part of the apartment complex management. But we made the best of a less than ideal situation and we found a bigger, better place that is more suited to our current needs. More than anything, I was happy to be out of that particular complex, which we shall refer to as "The Worst Apartment Complex Ever." And how does one gain the distinction of being "The Worst Apartment Complex Ever?" By being like this and doing stuff like this:

Final account statement - Revised
Ledger Account at move-out
Portal ACH payment -- (47.00)
Balance at move-out (47.00)
* See the itemized charges for a complete listing of the work.

Deposit Activities
OSP ACH Deposit (350.00)
Total Deposits on hand (350.00)

Additional charges/credits/payments after move-out
Carpet Cleaning 65.00
Charges For Cleaning Needed 135.00
Drip Pan Replacement 16.00
Keys, (apt, mail, gym, pool) 55.00
Touch up paintq 135.00
Total additional charges / credits / payments 406.00

Final Account balance
Balance at move-out (47.00)
Total Deposits (350.00)
Refunded Amount
Total additional charges / credits / payments 406.00
Total account balance due 9.00
* See the itemized charges for a complete listing of the work.

Edited Final Account balance
Balance at move-out
Total Deposits
Original Refunded Amount
Total additional charges / credits / payments

Variance due or to be refunded
Original - balance due 9.00
Edited - balance due

FAS Prepared
Date 12/29/2011
User B., Amber


Lease information - Unit 15298C
Move-in 08/25/2009
Notice given 10/04/2011
Lease expires 11/17/2011
Move-out 11/23/2011
Move-out reason Lifestyle change for another reason
Lease information - Unit 15298C
Floor plan group
Cancel/Deny date
Lease expires 11/17/2011



Please remit payment within fifteen (15) days via worstapartmentcomplexever.com or mail to: Worst Apartment Complex Ever 15282 SW Worst Ever Blvd Beaverton, OR 97007 If the balance is not paid within 15 days your account will be sent to our collection agency, National Credit Systems, and you may contact them at 1-800-367-1050. They will proceed with collection action which may include credit bureau reporting and possible legal action. Interest will accrue on all outstanding balances at the maximum lawful rate.

Manager


To sum up so far: We paid a $350.00 security deposit when we moved in. When we moved out, our online account had $47.00 in rent that we had overpaid by mistake. According to this invoice, the management was not only keeping the rent we had overpaid, as well as our entire deposit, but they were charging us an additional 9 bucks. Now, if they had merely kept a portion of our deposit, I may not have felt the need to go on a rampage, but they didn't do that. Oh no. They kept all our deposit along with money that was not rightfully theirs, and they still wanted more. My sense of indignant outrage was rightfully kindled at this injustice. We tried a diplomatic approach at first, with Scott going in to speak with the property manager and request an explanation for the outlandish charges. When the property manager blew him off, it was time for drastic measures.

Enter: Pissed off former tenant who actually happens to know when a landlord is acting illegally.


Dear Ms. B.,

I am in receipt of the following final account statement from The Worst Apartment Complex Ever, which was sent via email to myself and my husband, SP, on December 29, 2011. The account statement detailed charges that were assessed against the security deposit we paid at the beginning of our residency in unit 15298 C at The Worst Apartment Complex Ever in August 2009. As you will note, our lease term ended on November 17, 2011, which is the date on which we vacated the unit and returned the keys to an The Worst Apartment Complex Ever agent, thus delivering the unit back to the landlord. The account statement erroneously lists our move out date as November 23, 2011. The final account statement was sent to us via email only on December 29, 2011, which is 41 calendar days from the day after we terminated our tenancy and delivered the unit to the landlord. Pursuant to Oregon law, a landlord is statutorily obligated to return a tenant’s security deposit within 31 days after the termination of the tenancy and the delivery of the rental unit to the landlord. ORS 90.300(11).

The Worst Apartment Complex Ever retained the entire balance of our $350.00 security deposit, based on the accounting statement below. Oregon law states that if a landlord retains any portion of a security deposit, he or she is required to notify the tenant in a written accounting, which must be delivered by personal delivery or first class mail to the tenant, within 31 days after the termination of the tenancy. The Worst Apartment Complex Ever was provided with our current mailing address, as indicated in the accounting statement. As noted above, the accounting statement was sent to us via email only, and was not received until 41 days after the termination of our tenancy. The Worst Apartment Complex Ever has violated the relevant statutes by failing to deliver the accounting statement within the requisite time frame and by the statutorily required manner of delivery.

In addition to its failure to comply with relevant landlord/tenant laws regarding notice and delivery of the final accounting statement, The Worst Apartment Complex Ever has unlawfully withheld a portion of our security deposit in violation of ORS 90.300 (5)(B). The statute states that a landlord can withhold a portion of the security deposit to repair damages to the premises caused by the tenant, not including ordinary wear and tear. We resided at The Worst Apartment Complex Ever for 2 years and 3 months. We had no pets in our apartment and no children. We cleaned the apartment thoroughly prior to vacating the premises. The premises was returned to the landlord in the same condition that existed at the time we took possession of the unit, with the exception of ordinary wear and tear. The Worst Apartment Complex Ever deducted $270.00 from our deposit for “touch up painting and cleaning charges.” Those charges were incurred to correct ordinary wear and tear, and were wrongfully withheld. Furthermore, Oregon law only permits costs assessed for repairs to be billed at a “reasonable hourly rate.” The accounting statement we received does not provide adequate detail as to the hourly rate assessed for the cleaning and painting performed. We do not dispute the amount that was withheld for carpet cleaning, a term noted in our original lease contract. Please provide receipts which detail the hourly rate assessed for the painting and cleaning that was performed.

In addition to the amount wrongfully withheld for repair of ordinary wear and tear, The Worst Apartment Complex Ever wrongfully withheld $55.00 from the deposit for “Keys (apartment, mail, gym, pool).” On November 17, 2011 at approximately 8:00 am, S.P. returned all of the aforementioned keys to an agent of The Worst Apartment Complex Ever. The leasing office was not open at the time he returned them, so he delivered possession of the keys to a Worst Apartment Complex Ever maintenance worker, who indicated he would deliver them to the leasing office.

The Worst Apartment Complex Ever has wrongfully withheld $325.00 from the $350.00 security deposit it received, in violation of ORS 90.300. Under the statute, the landlord has one year to settle the matter and repay the balance owed. If proper settlement is not reached, the tenant may file suit for up to twice the amount of money unlawfully retained. See Ellsworth v. Gladden, 36 Or.App.385 (1978) and ORS 90.300(15). Please remit payment immediately in the amount of $325.00 to SP and RWP. If payment is not received, we will file an action in state court to recover damages pursuant to ORS 90.300(15).

Thank you for your attention to this matter. Please contact me if you have any questions.



Whoa. To which The Worst Apartment Complex Ever responded with:

After reviewing your email, your final account statement has been revised. Your full deposit was submitted for payment to our corporate office today, the check will be cut within 2 business days.

Thank you,

Carolyn C.
Property Manager
Worst Apartment Complex Ever


And that is how the good guys win one.

Impulse buy FAIL

You may or may not have noticed that it has been eight months since my last post. My official stance is that nothing interesting has happened in that time frame, but the truth is that I'm just really, really lazy... and really quite busy. If you care, I'm sorry. But today, something blogworthy actually happened and I even had some spare time to sit around and commit it to print. Scott and I have recently been saving our pennies for a more respectable-sized television. After living for two years in an apartment that came with a 45 inch flatscreen, we recently moved and found it a little disappointing to go back to the modest 32 inch television we purchased as newlyweds. Today, in a perfect storm of awesomeness, we had a bit of a windfall at my job and we stumbled across an ad for a 50 inch plasma on sale for pretty much the exact amount of my recently-refunded bar dues for the last year. (Side note: Being a lawyer is crazy expensive) Thinking only of our amazingly good luck, we headed out on a mission: Assume ownership of said 50 inch plasma television. That was the easy part...well, except for the minor detail of our credit card being flagged for fraud because we've been using it to make lots of unusual purchases lately. Um, Christmas shopping anyone? When we finally made it out of the store with our treasure, we discovered that there are a great many things that do not fit in a Honda Civic, among them, a 50 inch plasma television. Despite our best efforts to adjust seat backs, shift around the television and cajole the car into being just a bit more accommodating, we were utterly unable to fit our impulse buy in our car. No fewer than 10 complete strangers commented on our predicament. My personal favorite was the guy who so helpfully chimed in with "That's not going to fit!" Do you think? Luckily, we are perfectly capable of finding humor in our own logistical ineptitude. But honestly, if you can't laugh at that, what can you laugh at? When we came to the realization that the television was not fitting in the car, no way, no how, we reevaluated our options. Fortunately for us, we have some really amazing friends who are exceptionally generous and kind and considerate...and happen to own an SUV. Special shout out to Kyle and especially Autumn for coming to our rescue. When we got home, we realized that our impulse buy would require some serious rearranging of our only recently assembled living room, but now that it's all set up and the big game is blazing in all its action (Seriously Sooners, this is just unacceptable), I think we can officially say that this is an impulse buy WIN!

It still smarts like it was four minutes ago

When I interviewed for my current job, the hiring partner asked me if I would be willing to take the Washington bar exam and emphasized to me that if I got the job, I would need to. This is because the majority of the firm's practice centers around litigation in the state of Washington. I think when we had this conversation six months ago, I must have said something idiotic, like "Sure, I'd love to take another bar exam!" After I got the job, the subject didn't come up again because new associates are generally expected to prove their worth with the firm for at least a year before the partners feel justified in footing the bill for an associate to take the Washington bar exam. For good reason, too. Evidently, with the lost productivity, wages, bar prep and other such fabulousness, the price tag for an associate to get licensed in Washington hovers around $40,000. Or so I was told. Today. When I was informed that a July 2011 bar exam might be in my future. Part of me is thinking it's pretty darn awesome that the partners are even considering having me take the bar at this point. It means they think I'm a decent enough lawyer to actually send out into the world; to handle the real courtroom aspects of litigation, rather than just the paperwork. And then there's the rest of me, the part that actually heard the words "bar exam." I've heard it said that time dulls even the most painful memories, but I found out first hand today that two years is not enough time to blunt the effect of that particular brand of trauma. I'm pretty sure there is not enough time in all of eternity to make me comfortable with the idea of sitting for another bar exam. Studying night and day for another bar exam. Turning into a horror show caricature of myself for another bar exam. As this conversation ensued in my office between me and one of the partners, he took a step back (presumably after seeing the unadulterated look of panic that surely swept over my face) and inadvertently bumped against the framed certificate that proclaims me a member of the Oregon State Bar. It nearly fell off the wall. I'm pretty sure that's a bad omen.

By any other name

I've been getting positive attention at work lately, which means more and more assignments are being deposited at my desk. I cannot lie; I love it. Of particular awesomeness is the fact that I'm getting to do a great deal of legal research and writing. I know, a lawyer, writing legal stuff. Mind blowing. But there is one tiny detail about this arrangement that bothers me. Or more accurately stated, there is one tiny detail about this arrangement that bothers my inner narcissist. I never get to put my name on my work. All the pleadings, advice letters, legislative analyses and case law synopses that come from my desk are signed by a partner. At some level, I suppose this makes sense. Big deal corporate clients really like to see a name they know and trust affixed to the bottom of a letter containing advice on how to manage their legal affairs. Preferably a name that is also on the wall in the lobby of our office, in big shiny letters. As a student, to me the best part about writing something amazing was putting my name on it and declaring to the world that the novel ideas on that paper had their genesis in my brain. But as a second year associate, I guess the ideas spilling from my brain are still considered a work in progress. I do find it exciting that established attorneys who have been successfully practicing law for longer than I have been alive trust me to come up with legal solutions that will ultimately go out to our clients and shape the way they do business. But this is one of those instances in which the practice of law is annoyingly idiosyncratic. I'm pretty sure in any other context, putting your name on something you did not write is more commonly referred to as plagiarism.

Broadcasting idiocy

In the line of duty, it is sometimes incumbent upon me to read letters from opposing counsel in which grandiose posturing is performed and threats are leveled. As a general rule, lawyers are pretty good with words. I can attest to the fact that this lawyer chooses every word with care because I've had it drilled into me that the subtlest of shifts in semantics can completely alter the meaning of what I'm trying to convey. And then there are lawyers like the guy whose words came across my desk recently and gave me the uncontrollable urge to cram a dangling participle down his throat. The letter contained a threat of penalties against my client...I think. The spelling and grammar were so atrocious that I could only guess at what he was trying to say. And when I thought I finally had it figured out, my annoyance was compounded by the fact that I found myself unable to draft a response that was not dripping with sarcasm. I had to assume that since the guy ostensibly made it through law school and passed the bar, he's probably no dummy. However, if you have something to say and you come to the conclusion that it is important enough to commit to writing, don't you think it might be a good idea to dust off those grade school grammar lessons and fire up your spell checker so you can avoid looking like a complete idiot to the person reading your words? And while I'm being a curmudgeon, can we expand that to all forms of written communication, not just legal blustering? Please and thank you.

And for my next trick, I will turn my face red

Today was such a long day at work. I spent the last hour working on a problem related to a third party lien and for the life of me, I could not make my numbers match up with the numbers of the settlement. The partner who had given me the assignment was on the phone, so I had to wait to ask him how he came up with the numbers he had given me. I waited...and waited...and waited. And still, the little red light on my phone indicated he was still chatting it up with some judge or client or other random person of more significance than myself. I finally decided to set aside that particular project for the moment and I started pulling documents from another file. From the corner of my eye, I saw the partner approaching my office. Without bothering to look up, I say in my usual, slightly too loud voice, "Are you finally finally finally off the phone? I've been waiting forever to talk to you about this lien. I can't figure out how you got the numbers you did and I need you to show me how you came up with these figures..." When I finally looked up, I saw that he was clutching the mouthpiece of his telephone headset and motioning for me to be quiet...because he was still very much on the phone. Ooooooh, I'm such a winner! In a move right out of the cheesiest cartoon, I stopped mid-sentence and clapped my hand over my mouth as my eyes popped out of my head like tennis balls. He had come to my office to get a file I was working on, and the person on the other end of the phone had been privy to my awesomeness. And let's face it, I am awesome. The attorney whose office is next door to mine saw the entire scene and was failing miserably at containing his laughter. Luckily, my boss saw the humor in the situation and we all had a good laugh about it after he finally finally finally did get off the phone.

If you have luck, take it, care for it...

Don't worry, this isn't another rant about how indignant I am about the recent disruption to my five year plan. I'm pretty sure I'm over it. Pretty sure. But yeah, with all the other stuff going on, it was most excellent to have the opportunity to spend an entire evening laughing myself silly. Brian Regan. Is there a funnier person on the planet? Probably not. For our fourth anniversary, I got us a pair of tickets to see Brian Regan when his tour came through Portland. And after several months of anticipation, the big show was last night. So worth it. I was first introduced to the comedy stylings of Mr. Regan while I was in college, during what was probably the very last summer of my life that was devoid of adult responsibilities. Good times had by all. Now I'll occasionally drop a "You too!" or "Take luck" in casual conversation to see if I'm speaking with someone who has an acceptable sense of humor. If they know what I'm talking about, a comical exchange will usually follow. If they don't, I just feel sorry for that person. Their life must be so bleak. So last night, we got to hear some of his new material, which was thoroughly entertaining. But I must say, the best was when, during his encore, he launched into the classic "little league" bit, after some not so subtle urging from the crowd. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prLLabn1vPA FREE SNOW CONE!!! Thank you for giving me something to look forward to. Thank you for making me laugh. And thank you for putting things in perspective. Life is pretty darn hilarious, even when things don't go according to plan.

Has to land on somebody

As I sit here pondering the latest turn of events in my life, a line from a movie comes to me. It's somewhat poetic that this dialogue from my favorite movie should come to me at a time like this, and be so utterly appropriate. "Bad luck?" "Yeah. It floats around. Has to land on somebody." What a succinct way of summing things up. It has to land on somebody. In the movie, this exchange occurs between two imprisoned murderers, one of whom was wrongly accused and convicted. The one responds to the other with incredulity that he would describe such a miscarriage of justice as mere "bad luck." My problems will likely never be on par with wrongful imprisonment for double homicide. But I suppose it was rather naive of me to think I would never be the person on whom bad luck happened to land. It's like that. Shapeless. Ephemeral. And utterly indiscriminate. Now that it has descended, I'm at a loss for what to do with it. I would really like to gloss over the first four stages of grief and get right to acceptance, but that is just not happening. When the news first broke, I fully indulged my denial. I used humor to deflect and cold analytical thinking to rationalize and reassure myself. Now I seem to be hung up on anger. Things like this happen to other people. We were doing everything right; how could this happen to us? And how dare you, fate? How dare you screw up my perfectly ordered existence like this? Part of me clings to the belief that things will be okay. Things always work out for the best, don't they? Everything happens for a reason, and all that? I guess we'll find out soon enough.

Moment over

Scott and I were on our way home from church this morning, discussing some weighty matters that are going on in our collective life at the moment. When I posed the rhetorical question, "What do we do?" Scott's response was, "Pray." After a pause, I rejoined with, "Just to make it today." Scott nodded slowly and said, "I was just thinking that, but I didn't say it because I figured it wasn't the right moment." "Oh," I said, "Don't worry, I said it for both of us." Somber moment over. Thank you, Hammer, for providing the soundtrack to today's important discussion.

Thursdays

Scott is back in school after a wonderful three week break in between semesters. It was a much needed reprieve. We put some of our awesome new Christmas gifts to good use (chocolate-filled ebelskivers, anyone?), watched tons of Daria and X-Files, and even assembled the second 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of our marriage. Good times. But now that Scott has evening classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I find that my time is much less...shall we say, structured...on the nights where I have the house to myself. On a normal night, we both get home from work, have an actual sit down dinner together, catch up on the day's political news courtesy of Jon Stewart and then we hit the books (though only one of us gets to read for pleasure). With Scott in class at this very moment, my evening has instead looked something like this: I stayed late at the office because I was working on a massive project that didn't seem to notice or care when 5:00 rolled around. Besides, there was no one home to care what time I walked in the door. When I finally finished what I was working on, I came home,went for a run and played around on the WiiFit (which is my new favorite toy). When I was done winning virtual hula hoop competitions and mastering the Tree pose, I promptly cancelled out any caloric advantage I might have gained, by raiding the huge bowl of assorted Christmas candy that currently graces our dinner table. But as everyone knows chocolate is not a meal unto itself, so I balanced things out by chasing it with Tabasco-topped popcorn while perusing the latest gossip on Facebook. This is all proof positive that I need to come up with more productive ways to spend my unstructured time. Here are some of the ideas I've considered and decided merit further procrastination... um, I mean consideration: Read. Plan a trip. Study the big fat Spanish grammar book that I have sitting in my nightstand. Begin revisiting all the super fun topics that comprise the legal universe in preparation for my as yet unscheduled but not entirely distant date with the Washington bar exam. Additional suggestions are welcome. But at the top of my list right this second is: Eat chocolate. After all, Dove says chocolate loves unconditionally. And if my chocolate wrapper says it, it can't be wrong.

My most recent really big idea

I wish I'd had a camera handy to capture the look on Scott's face when I told him I want to take a sabbatical and spend a year globe-trotting. It was best described as a cross between amusement and complicity. To give a little context to this whole scenario, my idea was not completely out of the blue. I must confess, I just finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love," which is the third book I've read in the last four months that utterly romanticizes the notion of heading off into the unknown for an adventure abroad. I do love a good adventure, and what better place to have such an adventure than abroad? With each new destination I add to my list of places visited, the more compelled I feel to add even more to that list. For Scott and I, traveling has kind of become our thing. We toss all our spare pennies into the vacation fund coffers, and then each year we go out and blow the vacation fund in fine style. I've already mentioned how much I love to plan these vacations, and now that I've got it in my head that I want to spend a year traveling, I find myself wondering at the logistics of such an undertaking. Like how long will it take to save up enough money to ditch our lives for a year? What countries am I dying to visit? What countries would give us the biggest bang for the buck? I already know it won't be Italy, but I'd sure love to go back there anyway. When would we be able to actually pull off an undertaking of this magnitude? Obviously not now, because Scott is still in school. So that means we still have at least two more years to figure out the big stuff. By then, my loans will be paid off (how amazingly awesome is that? Eat it, law school!) and if we maintain the status quo, I could theoretically toss my entire salary into the humongous vacation/adventure fund. This could totally be doable. And taking a year off isn't really all that unreasonable, especially if you refer to it as a "sabbatical." Somehow that makes the whole idea sound just slightly less irresponsible. Maybe I can write a memoir chronicling this really big adventure and it will turn out to be a runaway success story/vehicle for early retirement...oh right, that's been done. But still, I think it would most definitely be a pretty awesome way to spend a year. Especially when the alternative involves being tethered to an office.

FAIL moment of the day

The firm where I work is looking to hire a new legal assistant. Since I am one of the lucky attorneys that will be assigned to work with the new hire, I was asked to participate in the interviews. I must say, it was an interesting experience to be on the other end of the table; asking the ridiculous questions rather than scrambling to answer them without sounding like a total idiot. On the one hand, it was reassuring to know that everyone struggles to sound coherent under that kind of pressure. On the other hand, I got a little tired of hearing how "perfectionism" is such a weakness. Really? Could you be any more cliche? Anyway, after interviewing 5 applicants and tossing out fluster-inducing questions like "What's the worst thing you've ever done in a job that your boss doesn't know about?", we narrowed the field to our top three and the hiring partner called the applicant at the top of the list to offer her the job. Minutes after she accepted, the office bookkeeper casually asked if we had Googled the applicant to whom the job had just been offered. No, but now that you mention it... It turns out our top pick had been arrested and placed on administrative leave from her last job just two weeks ago on charges of official misconduct, theft II, four counts of computer crime and four counts of forgery I. Funny, when I asked why she left her last job, she said she was interested in getting back into the private sector because there were more opportunities there. Yeah, I guess she wasn't lying, but I didn't realize just what opportunities she was referring to. Needless to say, that offer was quickly rescinded, but let that be a lesson to you all. Good idea: applying for a job in a field in which you're well experienced and qualified, and being polished and professional enough in your interview to get a job offer. Bad idea: failing to realize the number one Google hit on your name is a newspaper article advertising the fact that two weeks ago, you were fired from your last job for theft, forgery and official misconduct and you may be facing jail time. I think my favorite part about this story is that she asked to have her start date moved back until next Tuesday as opposed to Monday because she was going to be "traveling with her family" on Monday. Yes, traveling to the courthouse for an initial appearance. Epic FAIL!!!

2010 midterm madness via Facebook status updates.

"[I] sure am glad the the Republicorps took their country back so they can hand it back over to wealthy sons-of-bitches who bought it fair and square." -Jim Ryan

" 'Boehner calls for smaller, less costly government.' Current headline on KSL.com...I feel like Kevin on The Office because I laughed out loud w

hen I read it." -Wade Peterson

"Please do not cry about the cost of incarcerating people in Oregon, or budget woes in general, if you have been voting for the minimum sentencing measures" -Peter Werner

"Election news from the U.S. is making me feel sicker to the stomach than any other ailment I've had in Cambodia in the past four months." -Travis Thompson

"Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard." H. L. Mencken.

"[I] would like everyone to stop using the phrase "we the people" in the context of "us the bastards." "We the people" doesn't mean your group of people should get what they want and everyone else should go screw themselves. We the people refers to everyone, not just the people you like." -Kevin Barrett

"[I] thank God that this election cycle is over." -Adam Hollar

Yes. To all of the above. Can we get on with our lives now?

I have a dream

I love Portland. I pretty much love everything about this tree-hugging hippie nirvana, but at this very moment, I am utterly and irretrievably on the wrong side of the country. Why, you ask? Because in two weeks, this is happening in our nation's glorious capital. When my favorite political satirist, Jon Stewart, issued his clarion call to the so-called busy majority, I instantly thought, "Hey! That's me!!!" I easily fit into that category of people who..."think shouting is annoying, counterproductive, and terrible for your throat; who feel that the loudest voices shouldn’t be the only ones that get heard; and who believe that the only time it’s appropriate to draw a Hitler mustache on someone is when that person is actually Hitler. Or Charlie Chaplin in certain roles." As we sink deeper and deeper into the mire of mid-term elections, I find it ironically fitting that the only person pleading for a return to sanity is a guy who makes a very lucrative living from his spot-on skewering of the idiotic actions and remarks of public figures. Where is the sanity? (And don't bother pointing out to me the inherent contradiction between my asking where the sanity is, and having a blog that boasts a quote about insanity in the header. I'm aware of that fact.) Who thought it would be a good idea to create a dedicated media forum for the crazy people? And why are said crazy people always the ones screaming the loudest? (I'm looking at you Fox News, and all your inane and incendiary talking heads) Oh yeah. It's because the sane people aren't screaming at all. It's not that we don't care. We care deeply. We're just a little too busy doing sane things like, oh, I don't know...working real jobs; the kind that require a degree from an institution a little more legitimate than the Glenn Beck University. It's tough to sneak away to a crazy person rally if you're gainfully employed. And in all honesty, I'm not really the type to want to attend any kind of large scale event where piping hot b.s. is served up for my consumption. But I desperately want to attend Jon Stewart's rally. I don't think it will have the effect of bringing down demagogues of the unfair and imbalanced, a la Tucker Carlson and "Crossfire," though that would be awesome. I'm just glad someone is finally acknowledging the fact that the nation isn't completely comprised of hyper-polarized d-bags and nut jobs, but that there are plenty of us who fall in the netherworld of sanity. Which brings me back to my original dilemma. I live on the wrong side of the country. I can't afford the impromptu trip out there, so I'm accepting donations and/or free plane tickets from anyone who cares to contribute to the cause of sanity. Any takers?