I Am Living in the Present a Few Milliseconds More than Most People. Happy Fall!

At 5’2″, I may not be able to reach 75% of my kitchen cabinets without the aid of a stepstool, but apparently I am one millisecondal step (ha!) ahead of the rest of the world! (Also, this is a great article). Yes!

In other news, my mom learned the phrase “OMG.” She tried it out in an email but then totally ruined her questionable new street cred by asking, “Did you notice I know how to use OMG?”

And in other, even better news, I have gone part-time as a lawyer! This is the best news ever! I am going to devote the 6 hours a day that I used to spend still lawyering (I’m now doing 25 hours a week) to crafts! And you know, to being a real person again.

Slightly related, I will share with you the email thread among some of my LA dude friends (M, D & R) and me last week regarding the new M83 album:

M: New M83 out next week!

R: I predict D goes nuts for it and you guys proceed to engage in a furious two-man fwap session.

M: Too soon.

J (that’s me): Too soon since your last one? Still not over it?

M: You’ve changed seen you’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

So MEAN.

J: Nah, that’s just me trying retardedly to make dude-like jokes. Whenever I see the opportunity, I gotta try! [Ed. Note: So true! I didn’t have dude friends when I was younger and it is SO AWESOME to make dude jokes. I crack myself up and they are always AS STUPID as the one above!]

R: oh no.  you are quite skilled.  he’s right.  you’ve changed.

R (couple minutes later): Does anyone else really miss the nice jen?  man, she was so nice.

J: Now you are being mean!! You know I am totally freaking out that I crossed some sort of line now!!! I swear, I will never make a dude joke again. Probably. [Ed. Note: I was a little worried. At least for dramatic effect. (But also kind of really. But it is NOT DUDE-LIKE to admit you are, so I added the “probably.” It took me a long time to compose that email.)]

M: Ice water in your veins.  Black coal where your heart used to be.

They say this happens to a lot to people who go into arts & crafts.

D: And to people who live in SF.  NorCal makes you hard.

J: Ha, totally. It’s all the excellent coffee and local, organic produce. Makes you want to punch someone in the face.

D: F–king g-d damn super-high quality of life. [Ed. note: I inserted the hyphens.]

My friends are awesome.

Anyway, all this is to say, happy fall! And my fall is faster than yours because there is less distance to cover.

Pets That Dream of Living in More Orderly Homes

Since December 5:

Finally, January 31:

The owl is a Mincing Mockingbird original. On the back it provides the caption, “Another Night, Another Bout of Sickening Yet Exhilerating [SIC] Butchery.” Bwahahaha. A present from E. for Christmas. I bought MM’s book at UniqueLA with some of his birds and sayings, and COULD NOT GET ENOUGH. Seriously, I make everyone who comes into my house read it. Two of my favorites that have made me laugh out loud just reading them to myself (you have to imagine beautiful paintings of birds who are saying these most incredibly ridiculous things): “Realizations Made While In the Midst of a Sketchy But Much Needed Manicure” and “Pledging Obedience to an Authority I Like to Call Thug Life.” Oh, and there’s my magnet: “You’re a Whore and That Makes me Sad.” I bought the book for my brother for his birthday last year and we still laugh about it to this day. I also buy MM’s wife Frantic Meerkat‘s c-c-c-crazily awesome greeting cards (she has sweet Valentiine’s cards I have purchased for B. & E., as well as a temporary tattoo)*, and have turned several into prints on my wall.

Anyway. This post title is totally stolen from one of MM’s painting titles from his book (picture it coming from a beautiful cockatoo).

And it means that %^^#*$@((@(@&&@@^^%$%$%$ billable year 2009-2010 is over for me as of TODAY, and I cleaned my %^^#*$@((@(@&&@@^^%$%$%$ apartment for the first REAL time (aside from necessities) in 2 months today. And took down my Christmas tree. Brutal (8 hours!) yet HEAVENLY.

These last three months were the worst on record of my life, second only to the two months I spent studying for the bar exam. Imagine if you just skipped out on work for 9 months, and then had to do an entire year’s worth of work in 3 months? That was my life.

And when I read that caption (Pets That Dream of Living in More Orderly Homes) today, I wondered, do F&E give a crap if things are messy? I know they care when I don’t get home until 10 or 11 and they’re starving and I have about 15 minutes of lap time before I’m asleep, but do you think they care if the Christmas tree is still out and my mail is piling up on the counter and I haven’t watered the plants? Do you think your pets care? I dunno.

What I do know is I care. AND I AM SO HAPPY TO BE DONE WITH THIS YEAR (a month late, stupid delayed firm billable year).

So, hello (finally!), 2010! I’ll meet you at the bar. I’ll be the only one with newly-manicured hands, a fresh haircut, a super-cute plaid dress I bought at Anthropologie because my opposing counsel on that deal was so mean I needed a pick-me-up and which kind of makes my hips look bigger than they are (just a little bit, said B.; HUGE, said E. (gotta love honesty in a man, HRMPH), and looking like I need a drink like no woman has ever needed one before. Cheers!

*No, they are not paying me for this, I just think they’re that awesome. It’s like the first time you heard Yeasayer and you couldn’t believe it.

A Lot Has Happened. But Not Enough.

Things have occurred since last I wrote.

I have a bedframe now.

Neeta and I threw and Astronomy Day-themed ‘hood-warming party, complete with star-shaped sandwiches, star-shaped-chocolate-topped cupcakes, a solar system mobile, etc. Our evite title? “Chart your course for AWESOME.” Yes, we are dorks. And probably I watch too much HIMYM.

I discovered Gladiolus are my favorite flowers on earth.

I got a FREE and new-to-me chair from Amber, delivered by the truly awesome Jojo’s Delivery in Motion, who showed up in style in an El Camino, and followed up efficient and inexpensive delivery with a Yahoo! e-thank you card. He rocks, highly recommend.

I gathered some serious spoils at a Corey Lynn Calter sample sale.

My parents came to visit, and I discovered two new artists I love, and was reminded why I love two old favorites at LACMA.

There was limited movement on the romance front.

But you know what? That is seriously ALL I have to report for the last three weeks. That is it! That is the total sum of my accomplishments since my last entry. You know why? BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN WORKING WAY TOO FREAKING MUCH.

I should have lots more to report! I should have climbed ev’ry mountain, forded every stream, followed every rainbow, until I found my dream.

I AM DONE. I can take no more. I’m not sure what measures I’ll be taking, that’s still in development, my ideas incubating, marinating, as it were. We’ll see.

But SOMETHING has to happen. Because not much does outside the confines my office.

Which is just not enough.

The Final Frontier

Dude, it has been SEVEN WEEKS since I had a full weekend off. Now I understand why sometimes we don’t hear from Miss Doxie for months. Being a lawyer certainly can suck.

I can’t believe I worried a few short months ago about being able to fill all the space left by The Boy’s abrupt departure from my life — ha, suckah!

Now, I worry about how I’m going to fit in everything in.

In the end, maybe that’s a good thing, certainly better than the alternative, watching the hours stretch out in front of you like a prison sentence, right?

In any case, being stuck in my apartment for two of the weekends “on call,” I did manage to make some improvements to my living space:

Painted another nook (why can I not commit to an entire wall, only nooks?):

Painted my kitchen (an enlarged, nook, really):

Painted a paint-by-numbers frame that I fell in love with at $70 in another store and denied myself because that’s too damn much to pay for a picture frame and then later found on sale at $28, suh-weet!:

And then finally, this weekend, I had the full-ish weekend off, and Neeta and Kevin and I explored my neighborhood space, including the Good Microbrew & Grill.

It was so much fun just wandering around trying cumin cheese at The Cheese Store of Silver Lake and checking out the hipsters at Intelligentsia.

I felt ridiculously like some kind of proud mother, showing off my neighborhood to them, isn’t it the cutest, isn’t that the awesomest, probably it will be president one day and I’ve already started a 529 savings plan for it and don’t you think it has my eyes?

I’m not quite sure where my ridiculous love of my neighborhood comes from, but Neeta and Kevin didn’t seem to mind my motherly adoration, so no harm done.

I also finally caught up on Project Runway this weekend, and, um, am I crazy or was Heidi wearing sparkles on her lids this last episode? I had sworn off sparkly eyeliner, my favorite, because I thought it was passe. Can I resurrect? Please tell me yes!

There’s always space in my life for sparkles.

Ramblin’ On, In Lieu of a Decent Post

Oh, hello, is it Monday?

1. I am in a daze, people. It is a sad, sad state of affairs when you get the Blackberry message on Sunday morning at 11:30, when you’ve already been up for two hours SO ANXIOUS, to hear that you don’t have to come in to work that day and you WEEP FROM GRATITUDE.

I am too old for this crap.*

Also, when you have spent many, many hours at work and your poor family and friends call you to check on whether you’ve gone insane or not, you have a tendency, to um, ramble on. Because you’ve had no one to talk to all week except for your coworkers, who do not want to hear about your bed frame issues, they want to know, HAVE YOU FINISHED THOSE UNANIMOUS RESOLUTIONS OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS IN LIEU OF A MEETING OR NOT?

OK, no one in my office yells (yet), but anxiety is high, dude. Would you like to check my blood pressure?

2. Before I blogged, I used to, um, have pretend conversations with someone in my head, you know, to work out how I felt about things. Try things on for size, pretending I was telling a story to a friend. You can refine your thoughts in the telling. I realized tonight, walking the 25-minute walk to the Trader Joe’s (exercise + chores, I am the Master of Multitasking. But only because I have to be.): now, IN LIEU, oh good grief, IN LIEU of a pretend conversation with someone, I write a pretend blog entry. Which I never post (see #1). Has this happened to any of you?

3. My Trader Joe’s is like, the mecca of hip. Oh Silver Lake, how do I love thee, let me count the cute, bearded boys toting reusable grocery bags. And you know, I am not. Hip. But luckily! It is also the mecca of WEIRD. In Hollywood, I felt out of place because my boobs didn’t reach my chin. Here, I can wear my glasses — which, HOLY COW I NEED NOW (I really thought I was immune to the curse of my family’s poor eyesight but apparently I just wasn’t doing enough due diligence) — to the store and I fit in. And I can trot out my 1979 Steve Martin Cruel Shoes baseball tee my lovely brother handed down to me and I am golden. Or wear my mother’s 1980 wool sweaters and skirts she bought in London when I was three.* I can be weird here.

4. I have yet to paint but the one nook (see #1), but I finally finished papering my built-ins (see above). I guess, looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, which is what you do when you posted a picture on the interweb, it’s not that exciting. But for me, each shelf represents a place, a period in my life (Paris, South and Central America, China (in dreams), Redding), and that shelf fourth down on the right full of empty vases? Gettin’ shoved aside in 2008. Ramblin’ on.

*Yeah, I turned 31 last Thursday. And worked ’til 11. SWEET. Also, I realized I’ve asterisked TWO ITEMS to remind you it was my birthday. Apparently I need some birthday wishes. I am 12. Well, 31, going on 12.

You’ve Been LAWYERED.

Thank goodness my ISP restored my internet on Friday morning, considering the bar results came out on Friday evening and I really didn’t want to be learning THE FATE OF MY ENTIRE LIFE in Kinko’s, scaring/scarring the struggling actors that spend their evenings there retouching their 1989 headshots using Microsoft Paint with my a) sobbing, or b) mimicry of dancing bunnies.

Instead, safely at home I did both, only the crying was from relief and the dancing more closely resembled a Scottish jig. And it was the cats I scared/scarred.

In any case! I PASSED!! Whee!!!

Which is a good thing because my sister has been telling me I should use Marshall from How I Met Your Mother‘s phrase, “You’ve been lawyered” for months now and I had to grumpily reply, “But I’m NOT ONE YET.”

But now? I plan on using it with abandon. OK, not really, most people hate lawyers, but whee! I don’t have to retake, which, as Christine says, is well, one less thing.

One of the other things I plan on doing is living like an adult again. I’ve lived in this little 1-bedroom apartment with hideous carpet since I broke up with my boyfriend in 2003. Moving here was depressing — I’d left a two-bedroom condo with a fireplace and hardwood floors. I had told myself it was temporary, but then along came law school and holy crap, it’s 2007 and the litter box is still in my pantry. AWESOME.

I’ve had enough. I’m moving.

Also, I’m making holiday cards, yay! Sending them out every year is on my (in serious need of updating) list of 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die, and have I done it ONCE since I made that damn list? No.

So here I go:

Ignore the weird “u” in “you.” I’m sure something will be off on all my cards, but for now I’m pretending it’s OK because it’s just a prototype.

The inside will read: “…warmth and whimsy for your home and hearth this holiday season.”

I totally thought glitter was dead, but then the new issue of Blueprint had these wonderful glittered candles and I thought, why not?

Also, continuing my love affair with winter root vegetables, I made Honey-Roasted Parsnips (liked ’em even better than the squash) this evening from Martha’s Everyday Food. Recipe below.

And p.s. My holiday card picture is from long enough ago that it’s in the public domain and I’m not committing a copyright violation in using it. There. You’ve been LAWYERED. Ha. (Don’t hate me.)

Honey-Roasted Parsnips

– 2 1/2 pounds parsnips, peeled, halved lengthwise and cut into 2-inch lengths on the diagonal
-2 tablespoons olive oil
– course salt and ground pepper
– 1 tablespoon honey

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Divide parsnips and oil between two rimmed baking sheets and toss. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Roast until parsnips are tender and starting to brown, 35 to 40 minutes, tossing halfway through. Transfer to a serving bowl, drizzle with honey and stir to coat.

Rockin’ My Way Back onto My Rocker

One more day!

I cannot believe I have made it through two days of the bar exam and am staring into the maw of day 3 already!

Thank you everyone for your well wishes.

No heads were shaved over the past few days, but I did, go, um, a little crazy. Off my rocker. I have never seen myself like this. It was a little scary.

By Sunday, I had developed (still have) a weird rash on my legs, 12 zits on my face (still there), and ITCHED EVERYWHERE. By Monday, the day before the exam, I was so close to meltdown that I called my parents at 9 a.m. to ask if I had hives, and if one could die from that. Apparently, as my dad told my sister Penny, I was showing signs of being a little “weepy,” and needed to get the hell out of my apartment before I completely lost it.

Which is why, at 5:00 p.m. on Monday, Penny and Gwen ROCKED MY WORLD and suprised the hell out of me by knocking on my door with a bag of 100% complete! unadulterated! exam-taking fun! from Target. Including some Aveeno creme for my rash, Vitamin Water, breath mints, gum, face wipes, anti-bacterial hand stuff, Advil, EVERYTHING.

Oh, those girls.

And then those girls? They took me to THE MALL. Where I got a new black dress and denim skirt from The Gap, a $10 awesome bangle from Banana, everything I need to feel great about the upcoming vacay.

When I can go to bed past 10:30, I will post some pictures, maybe! I am that excited about my purchases! And also about returning to blogging! And commenting (sorry!)!

And then we had dinner at Morel’s, my first non Lean Cuisine pizza meal in TWO WEEKS.

Oh. My. Holy. Crap.

They saved me, seriously. Rocked me right back on my rocker!

Gwen is heading off to law school herself in the fall, and man has she earned herself some good karma. I hope when she has decided that she KNOWS NOTHING and why even take those fall finals, really (actually, I hope she never feels this way, I hope I am the only one that nutty), someone comes along and rescues her, just like she did me.

And Penny? Now THAT is a good sister.

Seriously. Right back on my rocker. When I was so far off it I was like off the porch and about to head down the street braless and wailing about how equitable servitudes were a commie conspiracy.

One more day.

Reality…

Set in for me this evening.

Five more days.

And maybe I should be panicked? But really I am so f&*king grateful.

I was watching Top Chef tonight, watching them trudge in for another day of challenges, and I was like, holy crap! That is me. With the trudging. Only instead of trudging in to face Padme, Gail, Tom & some random chef nitpicking me to death, it’s the sample student answers for the California Bar Exam. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE, with their 75 and 85 scores? Not me, that’s who.

It sucks that the Top Chef contestants leave their families and friends and whatnot for however many weeks to hang out in a plush Fountainbleu suite, but DUDE, I have abandoned my friends and family for the last 8 weeks to hang out in my apartment and go STIR-F&*^CKING-CRAZY. Now I understand the whole Cliff shaving Marcel’s head thing. After so long with one routine, one location, you just go batshit.

Which is where I am.

I just can’t wait for this to be over. Yesterday I was so starved for sugar, caffeine, anything to keep me awake as I trudged through Community Property one more g-dforesaken time that I drank a bottled caramel frappaccino dated Feb. 2007.

Also, my kitchen is a living, breathing health code violation. My hair is so long I am almost one of those people who you’re like, “Wow, they have really long hair and I wonder if perhaps they live in a yurt.”

PLEASE LET THIS BE OVER.

But! I cannot leave on such a horrible, downtrodden note. So I will tell you that I have (finally) made all of our reservations for Brazil and Argentina, which includes some time in Argentinian wine country, some time with the pirhanas in the Amazon, and who the hell cares what else because it at least does not involve “reasonableness” of any kind, variety, species, type, sort, genus, etc.!!!!

I HATE YOU REASONABLENESS.

If you are a lawyer, law student, you will understand my hate for reasonableness.

Otherwise, you will think I am batshit crazy.

Which is closer to the truth.

To reality.

And whatnot.

I Am a Piece of Veal.

Really. I am being fattened for slaughter.

I sit, caged in my apartment, 24 hours a day, ingesting law, regurgitating it when it becomes too much. Waiting for the day of reckoning (just three short weeks away, hallelujah!). It’s awesome.

HOWEVER, after talking to Laurie today (truly, you all need a friend who’s into self-help. It reminds me of when I was going to therapy, and I would show up not only with my own myriad problems in tow, but also those of my friends. “So, what should she do? Should she dump this guy or what?” I’m sure my therapist loved it, yep. My friends sure did — as do I when I now get to benefit from Laurie’s newfound wisdom).

Hm. I forget to end my sentence. Interesting.

Anyway, I was talking to my new guru Laurie (reference: sentence fragment above). And she was mentioning the necessity of looking for things for which to grateful.

So I thought of a few.

1. Newfound hairstyle, a gift to the unwashed among us. (You know who you are (me).)

Dude, it is so awesome. A couple little french braids, a side of Alterna Shine spray, and it’s like I washed my hair two days ago! Miracle! And bonus! I am in 10th grade again!

Front view.

Side view.

2. I have an appointment for color, cut, and a brazillian the day after the bar. I will be freshly coiffed EVERYWHERE! And ready for vacation.

3. Oh, Callanetics, I love you and your surprisingly effective butt exercises invented in the 1970s and practiced today only in Illinois, New Jersey and Oregon (how is it that this combo of states makes perfect sense to me?).

I do not love you because I think the Callan Pinckney of Callanetics is descended from the same Charles Pinckney that ensured the 3/5 rule made it into the Constitution (a-hole) (which I only know b/c I played George Washington in our 8th grade class’ reenactment of the Constitutional Convention, and had to keep my then-arch nemesis, Cory, in line when he was playing the unruly Pinckney). In fact, I often feel weird when I am doing the exercises.

However, Callan is saving me for vacation in a bikini:

And entertaining me with her semi-erotic poses and love for the leotard.

Also, I really wanted to post the book’s before-and-after photos of people’s flabby-to-firm asses (in just 10 classes!), which are the real reason I still rely on this 1970s throwback exercise routine, but I also want to keep my job should an employer ever stumble upon this site.

So, you’ll have to just imagine the magical transformation. Just like I am.

From veal.

To churrascaria and asado.

I Have Something To Say.

Not anything important, just SOMETHING, which is rare for me these days.

#1.
I am, yet again, walking around in pegged pants this evening, the product of a botched pedicure. The first one I did at 7:45 this morning, 10 minutes before I had to leave for stupid ^&*#$#$@ class. There is nothing like being about ready to leave the house before you remember that you took your nail polish off the night before, leaving your yellowed, ridged toes available for plain view. Ew.

Now, I’m trying to repair the damage.

p.s. This morning, in a fit of frustration, I also threw about 10 bottles of nail polish out as too thick, unsuitable for human use, and now they are staring at me in the garbage. I should leave them there, right? Thinning via nail polish remover is a fool’s dream, right?

#2.
I hope you all do not think I am trying to be all Miss Smartypants with my law references. I thought about this today and realized you might think I might be suffering from a MAJOR case of Pretension, when you know, and I know, and I know that you know, that “an ounce of pretension is worth a handful of manure.” But truly, I am just making stupid law references to convey de pain, de pain! that I am going through.

#3.
I love Top Chef. Favorite. But tonight there was a “Kingsford Barbeque Challenge.” Is this really where we’re at? THAT level of product placement, where EVERYTHING is named by brand? I got really mad when all of a sudden my beloved Candlestick (may live in LA now, but SF Giants fan ’til I die, PLEASE DO NOT MENTION BARRY TO ME) turned into Pac Bell park, even when the relocation brought some seriously awesome garlic fries.

Is this where we are, already? I know people have been selling their foreheads for a while now (I think my fivehead would go for double, surely), but is this really where we are? I find it troubling. You?