Guilty Pleasure

I may or may not have bought this.  On pre-order.  Because as soon as I saw it I knew I needed to have it.

 

 

What's worse?  I plan to watch it.  Frequently.

Maybe I'm weird.  Okay, I probably am super weird.  But there is something about this wedding and this story that gets sets my heart to fluttering and gives me hope for romance and love in the world.

It's also a reminder of a very important time in my life.  On April 29th, I was spending my last day in Morgantown.  I woke up at 4 in the morning to sit on the inflatable mattress I borrowed from a friend and watch the wedding, the last thing I watched in my old apartment.  After the wedding, I packed up my things and, on Saturday, I drove home--ready to start a new chapter in my life, too.

I'm glad the world didn't end today.  Maybe that's an understatement.  But I'd be kinda annoyed if it ended today--or in 2012, for that matter--because I am on the verge of getting everything I ever wanted.  At lunch with my lawyer the other day (yes, I know he's not "mine" but I don't know what else to call him), he encouraged me to pick an area of family law that I am interested in writing a small informative book about, emphasizing that whatever I pick will probably end up constituting a majority of my practice.  Did you hear that?  Whatever I pick. 

I.

Pick.

I have never heard of such a thing.  I fully expected law firm life to be like "this is the gap we need filled, fill it."  And me sincerely responding, "oh, yes, there's nothing I like better."  But to pick?  That gives me a sense of autonomy and self-directed-ness that makes this whole thing sound too good to be true.  But oddly enough, I don't think it is.  I think I just hit the career jackpot.  I feel blessed, and I won't forget that for a single minute.

Still, I have to figure out what I'm interested in.  My lawyer suggested equitable distribution, but then almost immediately discarded it, saying that he didn't think I'd be interested enough in it.  I don't know what I'm interested in because, honestly, I never thought it mattered.  I know I like family law--obviously--but as to narrowing it down to a particular area, I'm at a loss.  I'll have to do some research and see what I like.  Or what I think I'll like.  And, anyway, to write a book, whatever it's about, is also super exciting.  As a former English major, I thought I had to give up my dream of being published when I chose law school.  But, as it turns out, I get to have my cake and eat it, too.

Hard to believe.

Luckiest girl in the world, right here.  And I sincerely hope that all of my friends, but particularly Savannah and Claire, two of the most deserving girls I know, are blessed with the same good fortune.

Scenes from a Bait Shop

Sometimes I feel that, since I graduated and moved home, my life is far less interesting and exciting.  Sometimes that is totally true.  But other times, it is clear that the life I am in now, if not more interesting and exciting than the one I had before (or at least, not yet), it is at least spotted with momentarily interesting events.  It helps that I work part time in my parent's bait shop.  Not to be rude or anything, but...we do get some interesting and very colorful characters. 

I have two stories to share.

The other day, a very heavy set, scantily clad woman walked (I say walked, what I mean is more like lumbered) into the store, set herself precariously on the edge of the counter, and demanded that someone write her a fishing license.

"Okay," I said calmly.  "I'll write it at the back counter, by the computer."  (I pointed, too, so that she would know where to go.)

She picked herself up again and waddled back to the back, set herself on that counter and looked angrily and expectantly at me. 

"We only accept cash for licenses," I tell her, in warning.  "And can I see some ID?"

"I don't have no ID."  She said it, simply, not caring.  I braced myself for the storm that was surely to come.  Her pursed lips and aggressive stance didn't suggest to me that this was going to be easy.  But I knew the rules and certainly wasn't going to break them.

"Well," I started, slowly, a little afraid.  "I need your ID in order to give you an in-state license.  Since they cost less for people who are in-state, I need some sort of state-issued identification to issue it for you."

"The police told me I didn't need one," she said, angrily.  "Why would they say that if it warn't true?"

"You don't need one to get a license," I replied.  "I can get you an out-of-state license without an identification, but to get the benefit of a citizen, I need proof that you live in Virginia."

"Can't you just write it for me?  I stay just down the street."  She looked down her nose at me as if she was thinking that she likes to eat blonde things like me for breakfast.

"No, I'm sorry," I said again, a little exasperated now.  "I can write you an out of state license, but that's all I can do without an ID."

At that time, my dad piped in to corroborate what I was saying.  I love when he does that.  On the other hand, I hate when he pipes up and tells me to do something that I don't want to do--give extra bait to a customer who has been rude to me, for example.  (It is my policy that if you are rude, like if you call me "hey, you," or snap your fingers at me to tell me to do something, I will punish you.  I will give you exactly what you order--and absolutely nothing else.  I am in the habit of adding extra things in for people who are nice to me, and you may not know it, but you won't get the best if you are rude.  And I remember.)

"Well," she said, huffing.  "The warden has my ID."

At those words, I almost burst out laughing.  Here she was, my own little jailbird. 

"You should get it from him.  Then I can write you an in-state license."

"Can't you just call the warden and ask him to tell you that I have a license?"

"Ummm...err...well, no, that's not really my job."  I didn't know what to say, but I am not in the habit of calling wardens all over a silly fishing license.  Besides, that's crazy.  No thanks, you fugitive of justice, go get your license yourself--and if you CAN'T get it, perhaps you ought not be fishing and you should be locked up instead.  Well, at these words, homegirl stormed away in a huff, presumably to find the warden and demand that he give her back her fishing license.

Today brought another incident, of course.  It was the first truly pretty weekend we've had this summer, and everybody wanted to go fishing.  I went to work at 6 in the morning and ran back and forth to get bait all day long.  Literally.  It's good, because I work on commission, but bad because I get blisters on my super tired feet.

One of the most popular baits we sell are peeler crabs.  They are regular blue crabs that are in between being hard and being soft--and their shells peel off.  They are kind of expensive, $2.25 for each crab, and they are highly coveted.  We frequently run out of them, because we can only get a couple hundred at a time, and the demand is that high.  A crabber brings them to us every day, and we only have what he brings--whether he has been lucky or not.  Today, we got peelers in the morning--about 150 of them--and they were going fast.

I had a number of phone calls about peelers from customers and our general rule is that we won't hold them for anybody.  With perishable things, it's dangerous--by the time they get their lazy butts down to the store, some of the crabs might have died, and then they don't want to pay as much for them.  Besides, why turn away perfectly good customers who are physically standing there with money in their hands for customers who may not even come?  Our thoughts exactly.  It is counterproductive, and we don't save them.

Anyway, at one point, I had two customers walk in.  Let's call them Bob and John.  As they come in, I was finishing up with another customer.  Bob walks past the front counter, where you order your bait, and over the hook aisle and starts to browse.  John comes up to the counter and waits for me to be done with my customer.  When I was finished, I asked him what I could get for him.

"Do you have any peelers?" he asked me.

"We have a few," I told him.

"How many is a few?" he asked.  (This is a pretty routine conversation.)

Having not done inventory, I wasn't exactly sure, but I did a little guesstimate. 

"Mmmm 20-25," I told him.

"I'll take them all," John said.  I nodded, and turned to go to the back to pack up the crabs.

"Hey," Bob calls across the store.  "Can I get five of them peelers?"

"They're sold," I told him, shrugging.  "I'm sorry."

"Hey, man," he called at John.  "Can I get like five of your peelers?"

"I'm sorry," John said, "I need them."

Bob stopped harassing my customer, and I walked to the back to get the crabs.  I put them in an old bloodworm box and counted them out--we had 24 and a dead one.  Right on the money.  Feeling pretty proud of myself, I put them all together and carried them back out to John.

"We had 24," I told him.  "I was pretty darn close!"

"Let me get four of them," Bob started up again. 

"I'm sorry," I replied.  "These are sold."

"He only said he'd take 20!" Bob said indignantly.

"I told him I had 20-25 and he said he would take them all," I responded, patiently. 

"Hey, man, can I get four of those crabs?" he started again on John.

"I'm sorry," John said again.  "I've got to make a living."

Since John wasn't willing to give up his crabs, I really couldn't do anything.  He did ask me for them first and I certainly wasn't going to reach into his bag and take out something that he told me first that he wanted.

"But I was here first," Bob said.  "You were helping someone else, and I walked over here, and when he said he wanted them I told you I wanted five."

"He asked me first," I said, getting a little frustrated now.  I didn't know how he could think that I would be free to do anything different than what I was doing.  "I'm really sorry.  We should get some more later this afternoon."

"You're really not going to give me any crabs?" Bob said, his eyes bugging in his little head.

I shook my head.  He took his pack of hooks that he had obviously been intending to buy and threw them at my face.  Being wrapped up, they flew kinda funny--not in a direct line at my face, but kinda flew for a ways, then fluttered slowly and ineffectually to the ground.  I was pretty stunned to have something thrown at me over a situation that I obviously couldn't do anything about.

Ahh, the joys of working in retail.  Sometimes it makes me cranky that I'm still working here, even after I finished my law degree, but I have to remind myself I am lucky to have this connection that lets me work the hours that suit me.  Nobody else would hire me otherwise and I would have to ride my bike or something because I certainly couldn't afford gas at these prices.  And I have to get to and from Williamsburg five days a week starting on Tuesday for my bar review class so...


Let's just say I am easily the most over qualified bait girl in the history of the world.

BarBri Soothes My Soul

I've started preparing for the bar now (which is part of the reason for my extended absence from the world of blogging) and, at first, it was not a pretty sight.  In my first round of multiple choice questions designed to prepare me for the MBE, I missed more questions than I am comfortable admitting and I started to get a cool, heavy, settled expectation of dread in my stomach.  But, I decided, at least I have several months left before the exam, so I must plow on.  After all, I already knew I wasn't naturally the smartest law person--therefore, I have to work that much harder.  Which is fine, it really is.  I'm not sure whether it's even better to be the naturally smart person or whether it is truly more advantageous to be like me--extremely hard working and terrified of failure.  I definitely have powerful motivation.

My actual class starts on Tuesday and, I have to say, I'm kind of excited about it.  Except that I have to take it at a different school where I'm reasonably sure I will know no one.  But maybe that's better.  I am a naturally social creature and, if I have the opportunity to be social, it would be extremely hard for me to just focus on what I need to do.  So, maybe friends = bad, at least for now. 

The more I practice on my bar review, the better I get.  Yes, already I can see a marked difference from where I was at the beginning.  And that soothes me.  If I'm already better, then I will continue to get better the more I drill this stuff into my head.  So far, I'm only doing the first year subjects--torts, con law, criminal law, contracts, property, and evidence.  But it will get even bigger and more expansive and I say bring it on.  I feel reasonably sure that, if I follow the set BarBri program, I will come out ahead, which is good because I have a pretty sweet job to start, come August. 


Please, August, hurry up.

Graduation: It's Official

Tomorrow is my graduation day!  I'm not going, but it's still a special day in my life.  I have gotten several emails from various deans at school, and they all assure me that I have not failed anything critical at the last minute and that I will in fact graduate tomorrow.  Yess!

It's finally sinking in, and I imagine that after I see some of my classmates in their silly law robes, it will feel even more real.

Congratulations to all my friends who are also graduating; we've all worked hard and totally deserve to celebrate.  Congratulations also to Andy's sister, Molly, who is finishing up at Virginia Tech and also graduates tomorrow.  Hard to believe how far we've all come from when we started! 

Bring on the bar exam!

Tampons and Such

My life has recently become extremely boring, and I have neglected my blog a little bit just because I didn't want to bore anyone (if, in fact, anyone reads me at all) with details of how mundane things have become.  Work, study, hang out with Andy...well, really, that's it.

But the other day something happened that I think is a little bit funny and more than a little bit awkward, so I figured I'd share.

It's true; I'm not the girl with the purest of reputations.  I stay over at Andy's house so, well, you get the idea.  I'm also not trying to get unexpectedly preggo, so I am on the pill.  I am, in fact, practically a worshipper of the pill because I think it is probably the most wonderful medical discovery ever.  

Yes, ever.  It's totally bigger than penicillin.  I mean, yeah, okay, penicillin is good, too.  But the pill is better.

On Monday, I had to start a new pill pack, and I put the pack in my computer bag which, when I left to get Andy to go to a baseball game, I conveniently left sitting on the dining room table at my parent's house.  Needless to say, when I'm at Andy's house, pills at my parent's house do me very, very little good.

Since I had to work the next morning, I had to swallow my pride and text my dad to ask him to please bring my medicine to work so that I could take it just 11 hours late, rather than more like 18 or 19 hours late.  I thought maybe referring to it as "medicine" would distract him from my true intention.  

"Bring me the thing that makes it possible for me to make bad decisions and face little to no actual consequences, please, daddy."

Well, who would say that, anyway?  I just called it medicine and hoped he wouldn't think too much about it.  I figured my chances were pretty good since generally men don't worry too much about facts and don't think about things that they don't have to think about.  Cross my fingers, anyway.

Well, he didn't bring the medicine--he brought my whole bag.  Nice, I thought, at least he didn't rifle through and find the pills--I mean, it's pretty telltale packaging.  So I dug through my bag to find my pills when, lo and behold, I also discovered a little plastic Ziploc baggie in there--filled with condoms and tampons.  

Great.

If it wasn't bad enough to ask for him to bring me pills, if he peeked into my bag, he would see all sorts of other feminine items of a questionable nature.  Poor daddy.  I can only hope that, rather than go through my bag, he just picked up the whole thing and was blissfully ignorant of the morality-corrupting wares he was delivering to his eldest daughter.  

Let's hope for that, anyway.

There's No Rush

Suddenly, I feel like I am in entirely too much of a hurry to have my life work out like I think it should.  Because my younger sister got married, and a bunch of my other friends are in relationships that are either headed that way or seem very soon to be, what I am doing hasn't seemed good enough to me and I kept pushing for more.

Not anymore.

I'm going to focus on doing exactly what I need to do at any given moment, whatever that may be.  Focus on making myself happy through smaller things (workouts, massages, new shoes, etc) and using the new lawyer job I'll start working in after the bar exam, I'm going to start living the glamorous life I've always wanted to live.  If it's just me, if I'm not married, I can do exactly what I want all the time.  I can buy very expensive shoes, live where I want, go on vacations with girlfriends, you know, pretty much whatever I want.  All the other stuff will come with time and just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean that it's the right time for me.  In fact, I know quite a few people who have not only been married and had kids--but now they're separated or divorced.  As a future divorce lawyer, this is good news for the industry--but how embarrassing to be in your low-twenties and be divorced.  Marriage is a serious, serious commitment, and I don't think that many young people truly appreciate that.

It's not happening for me right this minute and that's okay.  I can wait, and in the mean time, I will be perfectly happy.  I don't have a choice.  It is what it is.

There's no rush.  I don't need to do the same thing as everybody else, especially when it seems like its probably not the right decision for them, anyway.  It takes longer to develop into the kind of person that you're going to be forever.

Anyway, I'm a pretty cool girl without a diamond on my finger.  

(Insert Scary Movie Impending Doom Music Here)

It's a bad picture, taken on a cell phone camera, and even worse lighting in my parent's dining room, which has been converted into a study sanctuary.  Sanctuary?  Maybe that's a bit too encouraging of a word.  Cell is more like it.


Here are the pictures of all the books I got from BarBri to start my bar review.

I'm not sure how well you can tell (I will probably post another, better picture so you can fully appreciate the misery to which my life will soon be reduced), but basically I have NINE super duper thick paperback books filled with law that I must know in less than two months.  Reassuring?  I think not. 

To be completely honest, I feel reassured to have the books.  At least its now in my power.  And you bet I'm going to do everything I possibly can to pass on the first try.  And then some. 

Today I bought some new pretty notebooks, notecards, and page tabs so that I will be motivated to do my work.  Two notebooks: (1) is my "notes from class and lectures" notebook, and (2) is my "shit I just don't know" notebook.  At the advice of my professor, I decided to have notebook (2) which will allow me to go over and over the things I just can't seem to get right, and have it all located in one convenient place that I will keep with me at all times to review in the car, in the waiting area at the doctor's office or the DMV, or even while on the toilet, if necessary, so that not too much time will be wasted.  Sound like a plan?  I thought so.

Can't wait to start studying.  I'll keep you posted and probably even bore you with entirely too many details.  Say a finger, cross your fingers, or dance a special dance in support of me. 

Hats

Okay, I'm probably saying exactly the same thing that every other royal wedding-obsessed American girl is saying, but I'm going to say it anyway.

Why don't Americans wear hats?  And, whatever the reason, let's forget it.  Can we please start?

I feel like my life is not complete because I haven't had the opportunity to put one of these beautiful creations on my head.  In fact, ever since I got up at 4 am to watch the wedding, I have become slightly obsessed with hats and have spent countless hours looking at websites that sell hats.  Nothing I have found comes anywhere close to the beautiful creations I saw on heads at the wedding.  I love the colors and the style and the drama it adds and I am so, so jealous of all the high class British women who wear them.  The only hats I have had occasion to try on have been super tacky, most likely found on the heads of fifty or sixty-something church going women.  Since I meet neither of those two categories, I have not seriously had the opportunity to wear one.

Sometimes I think I may venture to Kentucky just so that I can have an occasion to wear a hat.  But wouldn't I just look silly?  I'm not sure.

Still, I've compiled a couple pictures of various British women (with an emphasis, of course, on the Middletons because, let's face it, I am cliche and I just love them) just for funsies.  I hope one day I get to wear something similar.

Here's Momma Middleton...  She's soo pretty!

Okay, I have to admit, I'm not sure if I like this hat or not.  But still.  I can't imagine designing that and being like, "I know where I'll wear it!"  To me, that looks totally random.  Not to mention uncomfortable.  Does she feel like it's going to fall off when she turns her head?  It looks like it might.  Still, she's a princess, and I'm not, so what she says is fashion probably goes.

I wish Kate would teach me her ways.  I love these feathers.  How did she know she could wear this?  I can't imagine wearing that anywhere in the United States without getting a lot of weird looks.  So jealous!

Once again, I'm not sure if I like this.  But this is art!  I mean, I don't ever think of millinery shops--except, of course, when I watch Hello, Dolly! but there is some serious artistry that goes into hat-making.  It's kind of a lost art, too, because people just don't wear hats anymore--unless, of course, you're British and royal, or at least an aspiring-royal.  What a shame.

I love the pillbox hat and birdcage veil look.  Also love the jacket.  So adorable and form fitting and perfect.  Yup, still jealous.

I love Pippa, too.  And what a cool little hat! 

One day, I will wear a hat like that.  Even though I know it's not really appropriate for every day, I will make a point to do it at least once--maybe for my wedding!  (Which, by the way, for those of you who--like me--are waiting with baited breath for an update on my marital situation, may be sooner than I was starting to think.)

It is a lifetime goal to wear a hat like that and not look ridiculous.  If they can do it, I can do it.  Right?

Groupon, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways

Okay, maybe it's silly.  But I'm a bargain shopper.  And lately all of these websites that you can sign up for to get daily deals make me super excited.  In fact, in the mornings I wake up like a kid at Christmas almost every single day--and run to my computer (okay, not RUN, because I prefer not to run unless someone is chasing me with something very sharp) to check out what the deals are today.  Usually, I don't buy them--because I don't have $150 to pay for teeth whitening right now, no matter how good of a deal it is--but sometimes, like today, I do.

So one of the deals wasn't groupon, but "GetMyPerks.com" doesn't fit quite as neatly into my title, so please excuse me for my little misrepresentation.  Today a deal came in for a one hour massage and a manicure for $47.  I wasn't going to buy it because I am poor (it is the end of the semester, after all) and I haven't started to work yet.  But my sister called this morning and asked if she could buy it for me for a graduation present.  Very touched, I said yes.  FYI: I accept presents at all times and for all occasions, however trivial.

So she bought one, too, and we planned a weekend for her to come down from NOVA where she lives (only temporarily while she's in school, we're definitely not NOVA people by nature).  I have to admit, I'm super excited.  The salon is in Virginia Beach, so it'll be a little day trip for us.  Massages, manicures, lunch on the boardwalk and a walk on the beach, and then back home for some afternoon wine tasting with our mom (we pretty much do that every Saturday) and our Saturday night family dinner.  It'll be a wonderful day and I totally can't wait.

I also found a Groupon (yes, actually a Groupon) for two tickets to see our local AAA baseball team, the Norfolk Tides, for $9!  Regularly they're $9 each plus a bunch of convenience charges.  And what says summer like a baseball game, a beer and a hot dog with your boyfriend? 

I try not to use these coupon sites to buy anything that I wasn't already planning on buying because then it's not really a good deal, its something extra that they convinced me to spend my money on.  But these were two things I planned to do, and I'm really excited about it.  You know, sometimes I think half the fun in doing anything is the anticipation and the planning.

Can't wait for all these fun things!  It's SO nice to not be in law school! 

Happy to be Home

Yesterday was the first day in seven years that I have returned home, knowing that no academic calendar would take me away in a few days, weeks or even months. 

Andy invited me to go fishing, but I decided to spend the day with my parents at our new farm on the Eastern Shore.  (Mostly because I was tired and knew my parents couldn't leave before noon at the earliest and with the royal wedding on Friday morning and driving home on Saturday morning, I was super stressed and totally exhausted.)  But I took some pictures!


Don't you just love springtime?  I love all the wildflowers. 

I definitely fancy myself a bit of a wildlife photographer, with a specialization in labrador retrievers.  Doesn't Emerson look pretty with yellow flowers around him? 

Everything here is so green!  In WV, it's still not QUITE spring and everything is awfully brown.  But back home, everything is so many different dappled shades of green! 

I don't have much to say, because, let's face it, life is pretty slow at the moment.  I'm just trying to take some time to savor being finished with finals and waiting for law school to really feel like its over--right now, it feels a little surreal and more than a little anticlimactic.  Once my BarBri shipment gets here and I have to start studying for the bar exam, I will get a much-needed jolt back to reality!

It's so hard to believe I'm home for good, and that so many good things are about to happen! 

Changes Are Afoot

Since I am no longer a law student, I can no longer boast that my blog provides to its readers tales of a (somewhat) regretful law student.  I am no longer a law student, but not yet an attorney so, for now, I am "in medias res," which is my academic and somewhat snooty way of saying that I am stuck in the middle of a lot of things.

Maybe I'll come up with a cleverer title in a little while, but for now, this is it.

I finished my last final, turned it in, went to the post office to get a (PERMANENT) change of address form, came back and cleaned my apartment with a violent ferocity I did not think myself capable of.  Everything is pretty much clean now (or at least, the stuff I can get to for now) and my landlord is coming tomorrow at 12:30 to do my pre-move out check which will hopefully demonstrate that I am deserving of a full refund of my security deposit.

I'm also planning on setting my alarm promptly for 4 am tomorrow so I don't miss a second of royal wedding mania.  Silly?  Probably.  Unrelated to my real life?  Definitely.  But I've never been the kind of girl to miss out on some good-natured frivolity.  I love weddings, I love British history, and really, really love this whole fairy tale thing.

I'm not loving the new title.  But maybe that's just a function of missing my law student identity, which has been gone for all of four and a half hours.

We'll see what happens as my life develops. 

Identity Crisis

This morning is the last time that I ever write anything as a law student.

My last exam, a take home for Employment Law, is due today by 3:30.  And once it's turned it, that's the end of my law school career.  

It's hard to believe.  I feel like I'm stalling because I'm not really sure how much I want it to be over.  As much as I've complained about it (and as much as sometimes I've genuinely hated it), it's hard to face the end of one phase and truly feel prepared for what the next will bring--when you're not even sure what that means.  I've been a student for a really long time.  Some of my friends have taken years off, but I'm not one of those people.  I'm 25, and I have been in school every single year since four year old preschool started.  That's more than two decades worth of school--and the time of my life where I wasn't in school, I don't even remember.  

The whole bar exam thing is really pretty inconvenient, because it means that I have several months of limbo where I'm nobody--not a student, not a working person.  But I guess being a bar studier is a respectable thing.  And I'll work for my dad sometimes, and part time bait girl is a part of my identity that has existed since I was 15.

I'll keep blogging, but I'm going to have to be something more than a (somewhat) regretful law student, since I'm only a law student for a couple more hours.

And it's funny that it turns out that maybe I'm not so regretful after all.  This may have been the best choice I've ever made.  After all, I have never been so excited about the prospect of any kind of job as I am about the one I have back home.  People keep telling me how many hours I'll have to work, and I respond with, "OMG, I hope so!"  I can't wait to make my mark, can't wait to belong to this firm, can't wait to decorate an office and make my case in court and make my own money and prove to everyone (including myself) that I can hold my own in this setting.  It's the most exciting, the most intimidating, and the most rewarding thing I have ever faced and, right this minute, I sort of feel like every tear I shed, every time I was worried I'd fail, every single time a professor Socratic-method-ed me---was totally worth it.

Of course, I am viewing the world through the rose colored lens of the newly employed (but yet to start working).  Still, I really don't think that my opinion will change.  I was so deeply impressed with the people from the firm that I met at my interview, and I eagerly anticipate the next time I get to have contact with them--they're that cool.  Who gets to work with people that they'd totally want to hang out with anyway?  Yeah--this girl.

If I didn't have a job, I wouldn't be nearly so eagerly anticipating being finished.  It's hard to believe that, out of all the promising talent and impressive resumes that I have been surrounded by for the past three years, I was one of the elite few to have been singled out for employment pre-graduation.  It's not like I'm more talented that my classmates.  Certainly not smarter.  In fact, in many situations, I'm much, much dumber.  I got lucky.  That's the truth.  I found someone who appreciated me for my personality and was able to interrogate me and got what he wanted out of it, and I got hired more because of my emails and quirky personality than because of my law school career.  I guess he figures, as I have long suspected, that we're all really pretty even anyway.  Even the ones who are good at law school may not be good at being a lawyer--or maybe we're all equally good at being lawyers, once we get going.  But law school doesn't teach you how to be a lawyer--I saw that when I worked in clinic.  Law school teaches you where to find stuff, but many of the things that you have to do in real practice are not anything like what you get taught in class.  And, it has to be said, legal research and writing is the biggest crock of shit I have ever heard of in my life.  

I hope that all my classmates find the kind of job I've found: one that is exactly what they want.  I know how scary it is to be unemployed, especially if you feel unconnected to the profession as a whole (because your daddy isn't a lawyer).  I really do hope that my closest friends, especially, find something soon that eases their mind and makes them look forward to the transition.  They deserve it.  We all deserve it.  We're pretty awesome, it has to be said.

In a few hours, I will be done with law school.  I wonder how that will feel.  I've always said that turning in an exam, and then turning around to walk out the door of the classroom--is one of the most rewarding experiences there is.  I love the feeling that you've done something, done it well, turned it in...and now you're free.  You can walk away and, tonight, you won't even have to study for it.  You can set that book aside, because you've been there, done that.  I've always relished that feeling and looked forward to the next time I'd experience it.  Today, for me, is the last time.

Yesterday I also found out that my landlord will be replacing my carpet in my apartment, so I don't need to have it cleaned, which means three things.

1. I save $80.  Sweet.

2. I can watch the royal wedding and related television programs all day in the privacy of my own home without being disturbed.

3. I can go home early instead of waiting.

Although number 2 is probably the most important of the three, number 3 is also interesting.  I planned originally to have my landlord come look over my apartment with me on Monday morning, because on Friday it'd take like 4 hours for my carpets to dry and stuff and I was afraid I wouldn't have enough time to get everything really clean before Monday (since I figured I'd be working on exams through today).  But that's not the case.  I've been pretty free, and even had time to go shopping on Tuesday and get a pedi yesterday.  So I'm going to call my landlord today and see if she'll come look my apartment over tomorrow (afternoon, of course, I don't want to miss any of the wedding).  And then I can leave on Saturday morning.

Can you believe it?  Two days and I can be gone.  It's bittersweet.  

In a few hours, I won't be a law student anymore.

My Perfect Plan

I finally found a breeder in my general area that has yellow lab puppies available on May 30th, which is conveniently the weekend after I begin studying for the bar.  I'm thinking that's a good time because (1) I will be so miserable that I will need a fun, puppy-filled break and (2) I deserve it, damn it.

I can't think of anything else I want so much as a puppy.  This puppy.

Look how cute she is, with her little six week old mouth too small to hold a little tennis ball.  She's so perfect.  Unfortunately, this one is taken--but she came from the breeder I'm looking at (sorry, I want her to be purebred, it's important to me)--but the parents are different. 

Here's another from the same litter...  look how little her nose is!  When I see these pictures, I am overwhelmed with a desire to pick them up and hug them and never, ever put them down.  It makes my heart hurt I want one so badly.

This one's a boy (obviously) and I'm in the market for a little girl, I think, but look how freaking cute!  He's like, "I'm gonna be soooo bad!  Just wait til I get hold of your shoessssssss!"

Now, here's the pictures of the puppies I COULD actually adopt.  This is the most recent litter.  They're like 3 weeks old now and will be available in another 5 or so.  Pretty soon, the breeder will start separating them--each one gets a little collar with a number so you can see them grow and tell which one is which.  I like that.  Look at the little nose and teeny tiny little ears!! 

I don't know why, but I love the little puppy butts.  Little bitty fat tails.  Ahhh, my heart hurts.

Look how FAT the one on the bottom is!  What a little porker.  The other ones are like "mmm, this humongous pillow is so comfy!"  Is it bad that I think the fatter the puppy, the cuter? 

I am so in love.  Okay, so maybe I should have talked sense before I started posting pictures that make making legitimate, unbiased decisions virtually impossible.  

Anyway, the breeder is from a place that is about 3 hours away from me.  You want to know what ELSE is three hours away from me?  My best friend, Erin.  Now, technically, these things aren't in exactly the same place--the breeder is about 45 minutes away from where Erin lives.  But I was planning on taking a weekend before the bar started to visit with Erin and it is possible to go visit the breeder and pick a puppy when I go.

I also need to visit Erin because my friend, Adam, who graduated law school last year, passed the bar on his first try and is now practicing as a public defender, conveniently in the same city as Erin, has promised to give me some bar prep materials.  So, not only is this useful for (1) my social life, (2) because there's a J. Crew factory store there and I need a dress for my friend's bridal shower, (3) I need bar prep materials, (4) I need to celebrate my graduation, and (5) I could pick out a puppy.

Does it sound like a good plan?  Because I think it might just be.  

I need a little puppy that is too small to fit a tennis ball in her mouth.

After all, employed people can afford puppies.  And I will be an employed person very, very soon.  Employed people deserve puppies.  And employed people who graduate law school in like three weeks deserve puppies even more.

Gregor

In other, unrelated news, there is a many legged insect of some kind that is currently residing on my wall, past the point where I can reach, and just above my bed.

I think this is about the most uncool news I've had in a very long time. 

I would give him 24 hours to vacate the premises, but since he is above both the point where I can realistically reach and my bed, jumping and trying to kill him seems like a very foolhardy plan.  In fact, that seems like the way to end up with a many legged insect (1) in my hair, (2) down my shirt, or (3) hiding maliciously in my bed.  Since I really dislike all of these options, I am forced to leave him where he sits, though I do tell him every time I look up at him that I do not like him and it would be better for both of us if he found another corner in another apartment to hide in. 

Even though I have no furniture and am mostly alone, a buggy friend is not one I wish to have.

I think he may be the same many legged insect that ran across my floor the other day.  I did not like him any more then than I do now and I am going to be very distressed if he continues to reside in his current spot. 

I will call him Gregor, but only because it takes too many syllables to say, "damn you, many legged insect!"  Not being an insect expert, I can't identify him and, even if I could, it would probably be a word with a lot of syllables, too.  Though I do find the name Gregor somewhat humorous, I would not find it at all humorous if it turned out that Gregor was a member of the human-turned bug variety.  I have walked naked past him too many times for that to be a comforting thought. 

I don't like bugs with too many legs, like this one, but I also dislike ones that can fly, particularly when they fly haphazardly and don't seem to have much motor control.  The thought of them flying into me, and then walking over me with their creepy little legs give me the heebie jeebies.

I believe he is a centipede of some kind.  His presence is making me very unhappy, and I just thought you needed to know.

Gregor, you have to go. 

The Office

This morning I spent some time daydreaming about office design.  In a small space, you have to organize things effectively--and prettily.  Since all my clients will be women, they will appreciate it and not feel out of place with a bunch of feminine-colored things.  I probably am not allowed to paint the walls, but I can buy furniture and paint that.  Like, what if I had colored bookcases?  I'm not really sure if I'm going to do it, or just use colorful accessories to make white shelves pop, but I have months and months to plan.


I like the contrast here, the colorful lamp shades and the boxes organized on the shelves in different shades of blue.  I probably won't do anything with shades of red because, although I really do like the color, I don't feel like it's a real expression of my personality.  I generally avoid wearing red because I don't feel like it shows me to my best advantage.  Red is better on girls with darker hair or darker complexions.  It washes me out.  But there is something happy and pop-y about red.

Still, I don't want to do red.  But this backdrop here makes me think that I could probably stretch some fabric over a canvas and cover a wall in a big way with colors that I like better.  A damask or something would probably look neat.  Or even a solid color, like a painted wall, but without the paint.  Obviously my desk wouldn't be pushed up against the wall, the desk will be facing the room (and the clients) and the canvas would be behind me.  So it has to be a flattering color and not so dramatic that it clashes with things I wear.  Just food for thought.

I love the pastels and pretty feminine touches in this option.  I'm really into antique-y looking armchairs, too.  I want everyone who comes in my office to be like "wow!  I wish I lived here!"

Okay, and this is what's going to be.  No ifs, ands, or buts.  I will have my big, beautiful iMac desktop computer.  A PC just doesn't do it for me.  Love it.

Love this, too.  I also love that it has a table but, of course, there's probably not enough room in my office for a whole table...I will have to settle for armchairs and have the table as an option when I make partner and have a huge corner office. 

There's just so many possibilities!  Obviously I sort of have a scheme in mind--I like white stuff, and antique armchairs, and flowers.

I hate to think it, but I probably ought to get back to studying.  I do have an exam due today before 3:30, and another due on Thursday.  I hope textbook buyback opens up soon!

When coping with finals, I've found it is best if you indulge a little in whatever makes the studying less bothersome.  Whether that takes chips, or ice cream, or a little shopping trip--you have to do it.  Yesterday, I bought some sour gummi worms.  That does it for me.  For now, at least.  Whatever it takes.

A Little Like the Log Flume

In college, I took a study abroad trip to Greece, Turkey and Italy.  I had wanted to go since my freshman year, begged my parents, got a job to help pay for it during the school year, and pretty much thought of nothing else until my junior year, when I was finally allowed to go.  I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.  I've always dreamed of traveling to exotic places and Greece, Turkey, Italy was my first shot.  I couldn't believe my luck.  I signed up--and so did my best friend.  I was totally giddy.

Up until right before we left.  The week before, I got serious anxiety.  Did I really want to go?  What about my boyfriend back home?  What about my parents?  I would miss them.  And how did I know I'd even LIKE Turkey?  After all, we had gotten warned about covering our bodies and being appropriate...it didn't seem like the most fun place in the world, now that I thought about it.  When my mom drove me to the airport, part of me wanted to jump out of the car and run the other way.  

It was like when I was a little kid and rode the Log Flume at Busch Gardens.  I rode it one day, loved it, and couldn't talk of anything else.  I begged my mom to take me back again.  When I got to the top of the flume, though, I freaked out and had an attendant take me off the ride.  My mom was pretty furious.  

I couldn't have the attendant stop study abroad, and, after all, I had talked of nothing else for three years.  I had to keep my cool.  I had to go.  Bear the burden for the weak and be a symbol of hope for all.  You know, martyr stuff.

Well, I got there and fell in love with Turkey.  In fact, I can't think of a place in the world I'd rather revisit than Istanbul.  (To be fair, I loved a city in each country--Istanbul in Turkey, Santorini in Greece, and Rome--obviously Rome.)  But Istanbul will remain in my heart forever.  

Today, I'm reminded of the pre-study abroad feeling.  My parents came to move my stuff out today and now there's no furniture in my apartment and I'm typing from an airbed (borrowed from Savannah) on the empty floor.  I sorta feel like calling my parents back and saying, "Never mind!  I'm not ready to graduate after all!  Bring my stuff back!"

Okay, so I don't handle transition so gracefully.  In fact, it terrifies me.  I have a sicky sinking feeling in my stomach that says it would like nothing better than to stick to the status quo.  (Do you want to break out in song when I say that, too?  "If you wanna be cool, follow one simple rule, don't mess with the flow no, no....) 

Change is not fun.  It's hard to imagine not being a student anymore.  And even though I haven't exactly loved every single minute of it, it's really, really scary to think that my whole life is going to change--and I won't get spring break and summers off.  What if I start my new dream job and then start to wish I was still in school?  School may suck sometimes, but at least I know what I'm getting--and signing up for more education would at least keep my life more or less the same.  Do I want it to be the same?  Well, there's some comfort in it, to be sure.

Kicking and screaming for my bed to come back probably wouldn't look very mature, but I can't help that deep in my heart, that's what I wish I could do.  

Change makes me nervous.  I do not like it.

I also do not love sleeping on an airbed.  My beautiful, beautiful bed is far away and I probably won't get to sleep on it again until I have a place of my own.  

I'm not trying to be all sentimental.  I'm just sayin', I may be all lawyered up now, but I still feel like the kid at the top of the log flume.

How Icky

My best friend from high school is getting married and she asked me to be her bridesmaid.  I knew she would.  Ever since about ninth grade, we signed each others yearbooks as "bridesmaid" and constantly discussed our plans--long before there were any potential grooms in the mix.  I have been looking forward to her wedding literally for years, and until yesterday I was super duper excited about the whole thing.

Then I saw the bridesmaid dresses.  Please look.

I like that it's going to be yellow, and I like that it has pockets.

...But that's where the things that I like end.

Of course, I'll never say anything to her.  That would be mean.  This is her day and she should get to pick whatever she wants.  Certainly when it's my turn I will want my bridesmaids to wear the dress, damn it, and smile while they do it.  But this is a venue for me to complain, and where she will never, ever stumble across my complaints.  

My biggest complaint: Bubble hem.

What else don't I like?  It's shiny.  Gross.

And the neck?  How weird.  Weird, weird, weird.

And the clincher?  David's Bridal.  Ick.  David's Bridal is like the assembly line of wedding shops; cheaply made and mass produced.  No, thank you.

I guess there is one more thing that is good: the dress only costs $129.  Of course, that's a lot of money to spend on a one-time thing, but it's better than, for example, my sister's bridesmaid dresses, which cost like $250 (that was fine, though, because my momma paid!).  It's cheaper than a lot of dresses she could have chosen, but, of course, it is also David's Bridal--so really its incredibly overpriced for as shoddy as their dresses are.  Why do so many people go there?  I guess because they're everywhere.  Personally, I can't think of a place I am less likely to go.  But if I WERE to go there, I could find something better than this.

I'm a bad person.  But I have to get it out.  When I talk to my friend, I will be positive and not say a single bad thing about it.  I will have to gush about the pockets.  

What would I do?  Well, I have sort of stopped thinking about it, because a certain finger on my left hand is still very, very naked, but for the sake of this discussion, I will show you a few things that are more like what I'm thinking.  

Not in this color, but the silhouette of the dress.  Check out the back...

Usually I don't like strapless, but I do love this one...  And the color is just about perfect.  I'd really like to let my bridesmaids choose sassy shoes to go with it.  Definitely heels.  (Another problem with my friend's wedding: she wants me to wear flats!  I'm 5'3" and I need all the height I can get, especially since the bride and her sister are 6' tall!)

In fact, the more I look at that one, the more I absolutely love it.  It's simple, but still really pretty and elegant.  And with some super fun shoes?  My wedding would be so pretty!  Besides, blue and white always look clean and fresh together.

Okay, I'm done complaining.  I just had to get it out.  Usually my friend has fantastic taste, I wonder what on earth possessed her to choose these dresses.  Hopefully it will end up being better than I think it will, but then, as soon as I think that, I think--oh dear, a bubble hem.  

Please tell me that you don't think it's that bad.  Even if its a lie, because I know it is.  I do hope she doesn't find out that I think it looks like what an unfashionable sixteen year old would pick to go to a homecoming dance.  And if you do, I will deny it til I die.  

Also, on a completely unrelated note, my brother shot a 20.4 pound turkey yesterday at our farm in southeastern Virginia and, earlier in the week, my dad shot a pretty decent one (not sure of the exact weight) at our NEW farm on the eastern shore!

Here's Mason, with his turkey.  Isn't he the cutest?  

Here's my dad's turkey--he said he got lucky because he was sitting on my pink stool!  Haha!

Who else writes about bridesmaid dresses and turkey killing in the same blog post?  Haha.  Well, it's my diversity that was part of the reason why I got hired at my new firm.  Men like girls who can hang with the boys, and I can totally do it.  I'm just brought up that way.  Maybe it's not like a lot of the other girls in law school (I find that they are mostly kinda snobby), but, well, it works for me.

Except for that dress, life is pretty good.  And, of course, I'll get over the dress.  It was just a little bit shocking when I first saw it.

Exam #1 (Crim Pro) tomorrow, then my parents come to move me out!  Exam #2 due Tuesday, and Exam #3 due Thursday--can you believe it?  Almost done!

I'll Take a B, Please

Okay, I'm burned out.  

Maybe that's legit.  After like seven years of higher education, and two sets of grueling finals weeks per academic year, I can safely say I've had enough.  

Yesterday, I tried to study for Crim Pro, but mostly shopped online for houses and puppies.  Today, I tried again.  I did some CALI lessons.  I watched some movies.  I did a little more CALI.  And then, I gave it up as a bad job, and went back to trying to finish my take home finals.  I've pretty much got Employment squared away, I re-wrote one of my essays for Jurisprudence, and then I stared a little more at CALIs.  It's hard for me to just study, blindly study, when I could actually produce something.  I much, much prefer to write a final than just vaguely study randomly for another final.

Fortunately, Crim Pro has just twenty some multiple choice and one essay--and we get seven choices of essays, too.  So I'm thinking it should be fine.  But who wants their GPA to drop at the last possible minute, when they've worked so hard to build it up?

I set a timer on my TV for 9:00, when I would watch the William and Kate Lifetime movie, which is sure to be cheesy and ridiculous and delightful.  Right after it started, though, Andy called.  Unable to resist his charm, I had to answer the phone.  But he talked to me for just long enough that I couldn't go back to the movie.  Luckily it's showing again tomorrow at 9, so I will have to be sure to catch it then.  I have to see this.

Instead of studying, I also did a bit of blog reading.  I recently discovered the hyperbole and a half blog (which is linked on the side in the blogs I follow list)--and, I have to say, it's delightful.  If you need a laugh, please read.  The ones about the simple dog make me laugh so hard my side hurts.  Soooo funny.  Probably the best blog.  Ever.  Check it out.

I think that me writing another blog entry today is a sign that the studying just is not going to happen.  I have reached my max.

And you know what?  That's probably okay.

I feel pretty comfortable with the subject matter.  I did do the reading and stuff all semester, after all.  I hope it'll be okay.  I just want Bs across the board.  That'd be great.  

Bring on the Bs.

Welcome Home

It's finally sinking in, and I really don't think I could be happier.  I have a job.  A real job.  And not just any job, not just some BS job with a solo practitioner who really doesn't need me but took me on as an act in charity.  A job with a private firm.  A firm with a great reputation.  A firm that practices family law.  Can you believe it?  Doing exactly what I want to do!  And with an office in city center.  Let me show you what I mean about city center.


This is an aerial shot of the whole thing.  As you can probably tell, it's pretty new.  Built just before the recession, but still a developing and super classy area back home. 

Here's one of the entrances to the shops--yes, the shops!  There's lots of cute little boutique places and some upper end clothing stores---you know, Ann Taylor, Chicos, Banana Republic, etc--and restaurants.  A few bars, classy ice cream places, cute little dressed up bohemian restaurants and all sorts of fun stuff. 

City Center is also used for a lot of events.  There's a little city square thing in the middle where a lot of parties and concerts are hosted.  Even fireworks on the fourth of July!  Apparently these signs, visible from the road, cost a fortune to build, and, really, I think they look a little ridiculous, but oh well. 

Instead of going for lunch, I can always go shopping!  Isn't it cute?  Don't you just love it?

I just can't believe my good luck.  Of all the people to get lucky, I really can't believe it's me.  Because, really, all my friends in law school are equally qualified and, as far as I know, none of them have gotten such a good offer.  I'm not on law review, or moot court, or top 5 in my class.  I'm just ridiculously lucky, and I will never forget it.  I'm sorry to gush, but I just feel so unbelievably fortunate.  When I walked into that interview on Tuesday, I just hoped it would go well.  I never imagined that he would start talking to me immediately like I already had the job in the bag.  I didn't expect to discuss where my office would be located (omg, my office!) and I definitely didn't expect to go out to lunch.

Another thing I didn't expect?  After I sent my thank you's for the interview, I got an email back with just three words in it.

"Welcome home, Katie."

Serious warm fuzzies.  I can't believe I walked straight into a job when, just a week ago, I would have said that I would definitely not have a job at graduation.  I guess you just never know how things will work out.  And they have worked out for me better than I ever expected for my first job.

Nowadays, I daydream about the houses I can buy, the new android phone I will get (hey, it's a work necessity), and all the shoes that will line my closets.  (Please note that closets is plural.)

I also daydream about how to decorate my office.  You know, the one in city center.

I envision a desk with a beautiful new iMac computer on it.  And some kind of artwork in the background.  But beyond the computer, really, I haven't gotten that far.  Luckily I have a few months to figure out all the interior decorating.  I definitely want some pretty potted plants with colorful flowers.  I need some ideas to figure out how to mix professional elements with my love of feminine, colorful things. 

See, I particularly like this one.  And that's professional, right?  But still pretty, and the kind of room that you'd want to spend some time in.  Well, I'll figure it out, but for now I'm just looking at pictures and really hoping that I'll be able to afford some Pottery Barn furniture, too! 

Well, it IS finals week, so I should probably get back to studying, but I did want to take a few minutes to be shamelessly happy about my future.  All that remains is to finish my Jurisprudence and Employment take homes (but I have a good start on both), take my Crim Pro final Monday, and turn in my last Business Transactions Drafting contract!  This time next week, the law degree will be FINISHED and all that will remain is to get the diploma in the mail.  It's really hard to believe, but it's all coming together. 

Welcome home.

Oh my goodness, yes!

Omigod, Omigod You Guys

Today is my last day of law school classes and, it's kinda funny, but the last day feels an awful lot like the first.  It's exhausting, I'm in the middle of moving, I can't get enough done in a day, and I'm terrified for the future because it's still unknown.

It's a bit less unknown now than it was a few days ago, though, because I'm pretty sure I just landed my dream job.  At the interview the other day, I walked in and it was like they had already made a decision.  I was interviewed by two lawyers--the man who heads the firm (the one I've been emailing), and the woman who heads the office where I'll be working.  He told me that he didn't have a position for me exactly but that he felt like the market was on the upswing and that "if you lay the tracks, the train will come."  He said he wanted me to come help out the woman because she is currently managing the whole office pretty much on her own and he wants her to work less--plus he also wants to generate more business in our area.  He said that I could start on a provisional basis after I take the bar, and then after a couple of months they will make it legit.  He was everything I hoped he would be, and the dynamic between the two lawyers was really, really inspiring.  They obviously have a great deal of mutual respect and affection for each other--he, after all, opened the office where I'll be working just so she could have an office closer to home.  What an amazing person!  How often do you meet lawyers like that?  And he trusted me right off the bat; he said he knew I was qualified and that I'd be great, he just wanted to meet me and make sure I was a real person.  The emails did the trick, can you believe it?  He liked me instantly and started talking about when I'd start immediately.  I could hardly believe my good luck--and I still feel that way.  How could this be happening to me?  A job, practicing family law, in a seriously good private firm, with an office in city center (I know, I know, you're not from where I am--but, believe me, its fancy), and all even before graduation.  They warned us at school that few people were getting jobs before they got their bar results back and it was likely that at least 50% of us or more wouldn't have jobs on graduation day.  But I am one of the lucky ones--how did that happen?

I'm feeling a bit tentative because I'm still afraid something will go wrong.  Like maybe they'll change their minds and say, "Yeahhh, we didn't realize _____________, so sorry...."  I mean, I don't REALLY think it will, but I am worried and I'd like a little more validation.  Yesterday I sent my thank you notes for the interview, so I'm hoping I'll have some written validation that I can read when I'm feeling anxious.  Something that says, "You totally have a job and you're the smartest girl we've ever met."  Because being away from the interview, its easy to believe I dreamed it all up.

It is possible, though, that I am THE. LUCKIEST. GIRL. ON. EARTH.

It is also possible that I will soon have an office to decorate.  In fact, on the way out to lunch (yes, he took me to lunch, too!) he started talking about renting an office and making sure that there were two right next to each other--and she said that the office next to hers was empty!  Can you believe it?  An office in city center!  All mine!  Right out of law school!  Then he said he was dangling the bait in front of me to motivate me to pass the bar--well, dangle away--if I wasn't motivated before, I sooo am now.  He said he was going to make sure this happened because he liked me.  I thought that things like law review, moot court, stellar grades, etc were the things that got law students jobs--but it turns out, he likes that (1) I'm local and have business connections in the area, (2) I was an English major, (3) my writing sample was good, and (4) that I took his interrogation well.  Who would have thought?

I feel like it hasn't really sunk in yet.  But hopefully it will, because I could use being deliriously happy about something.  And what is more important than something like this?  I can't think of anything I would have rather had happen.  I really am pretty sure that this is my dream job.

It's hard to believe I've reached this point.  Just three exams (one of which is mostly finished), and one contract, and I'll be done with law school.  My parents are coming on Monday to move out my furniture, and I'm moving out for good the following Monday.  It's cool, I can sleep on the floor for awhile.

One thing that bothers me, though...  According to my lease, I have to get my carpets professionally cleaned...  And so I called and made an appointment.  Unthinkingly, I made it for Friday, April 29th--don't see the problem?  That's the day of the royal wedding!  I was planning on spending all day in front of the TV, but since I can't be in my apartment, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.  I guess I'll go up to the law school and watch it online.  But its really inconvenient that I cant enjoy the wedding in the privacy of my own home without people judging me for being waaaaay too interested for my own good.  I wish I had the presence of mind to have thought of that when I was making the appointment, but, at the time, I was just excited to be getting out of West Virginia and was really eager to make an appointment.  Now I'm mad at myself.  But don't worry, I won't miss the royal wedding.

Still, it's hard to believe I'm moving on to a new phase.

It's definitely a huge jump from bait girl.

Quasi Job

Today, I got a quasi job offer.  A "work for a couple of months and we'll see how it goes" kind of offer.  Well, I'm grateful.  That's better than nothing.  And when people ask, "Do you have a job yet?" I can look them in the eye and say yes.  It's certainly a step in the right direction.  But it's not, "OMG, yes, you're brilliant and we have to have you!"  So we'll see what happens.

My job interview with the lawyer at the divorce firm who sent me all those emails is tomorrow, so I'm hoping that will turn into something more promising. We will see what happens, but I would be lying if I said I didn't have super high hopes.  My mom says that my gray suit will be lucky.  I tried it on this morning with a black top and, I have to say, it does look pretty good.  The skirt is really flattering.  I wish I could wear it with the pink jacket, but, unfortunately, job interviews are so serious that I am afraid this would be damning evidence against me.  Why does the criteria have to be so strict?  Look really put together, of course, but why does it matter what colors you wear?  It seems like, in a sea of black suits, how can we even stand out?  If we ALL wear pearls, does it make my pearls seem less special?  I think it must, and I do wish that I could somehow break through this job interview monotony and be a breath of fresh air--but how does a girl do that without some pink?  I guess I have to use my sunny disposition.  I'll polish up the charm tonight.

I'm also gearing up for Andy's birthday.  When I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, he said he didn't know.  But I know that he lives and breathes for key lime pie, so I decided to make that.  But then, when I went to world market and found that delicious raspberry dessert wine, I thought, "maybe THIS will make him marry me" and planned to make cheesecake instead.  Then I started wondering--but what would he REALLY prefer?  I have the wine, but he loves key lime---why not make both?  So, this morning, that is what I did.

Here's my key lime pie....  It will be garnished with fresh limes and whipped cream, but whipped cream sinks down if you put it on too soon, so it has to stay bare until dessert time!

Here's the cheesecake before I cooked it....  It just looked and tasted so yummy, I had to save the picture.  Mmmm.  Good thing you can't see where I stuck my finger in to have a little tasty taste.  My dad says no good chef doesn't taste his own creations, and I have grown to live by that model.

Here's the finished cheesecake, cooling on the counter.  I read online that the top breaks like that because it is slightly overcooked, but whenever I try to cook it less, it is too goopy in the middle--so I figure I'd rather have a few small cracks in the top than a goopy mess.  Cheesecake does happen to be one of my specialities anyway.  My family always requests it.  Usually I make a raspberry sauce or do a chocolate (or pumpkin) swirl, but I'm sticking to the plain, tried and true, perfect cheesecake today--and hopefully Andy will love the dessert wine, too.  It's very high in alcohol content, which is promising, too.  A night full of fun awaits, I hope.

So here's my brilliant plan:  Tonight, we're going out for Thai.  (Our favorite: Pad Thai and red beef curry---omg, heavenly.)  Then, we'll maybe rent a movie (his choice, he's the birthday boy), eat some cheesecake and drink some raspberry deliciousness.  When I go to pick him up from work, he'll see the cheesecake and think that's it.  And he'll be thrilled (I hope).

Then, tomorrow, I'll whip out the key lime pie and I will go from the awesomely amazing girlfriend with the cheesecake and raspberry wine to the best girlfriend in the world, bar none, because I did cheesecake AND key lime pie.  And a pretty great present, if I do say so myself.  (And I do.)  Plus we're going out to dinner with his friends and taking the boat up to the restaurant, so that should be fun, too.  And his dad is coming down from Richmond to go fishing with him during the day, so I can go to my job interview without guilt. 

It seems like a recipe for success to me.