getting old

Within the last few months, my body decided to start falling apart in odd ways.  I woke up the Saturday after Thanksgiving with my ears feeling like I had just gotten off an airplane.  The official diagnosis: eustachian tube dysfunction.  Apparently, it’s related to sinus issues.  I’ve taken to shooting salt water up my nostrils every morning (an attractive image, I know), but my poor little eardrums still aren’t fully repaired.

Then there is the issue of the sore neck.  I woke up about a month ago and could barely move my head.  I have no idea how or why this happened. My doctor can’t fathom that I have no idea how or why this happened.  The only thing I can pin it on was sitting in an odd position while eating at an Ethiopian restaurant.  For those who have not had the pleasure, you sit on a low stool and eat at a wicker table that is shaped in a way that precludes you from placing your feet in line with the rest of the body.  Also, it is not appropriate to eat with your left hand.  It was a good thing that I did not have to engage in too much critical thinking in December because the muscle relaxers I had to take turned my mind into a thick paste.  It was unfortunate, however, that the pills were unable to alleviate the numbness I periodically experienced in the fingers of my right hand.

On Saturday, I turned my ankle while I was on my way to giving blood.  At least the injury was a conventional one.  A turned ankle sounds less frightening than eustachian tube dysfunction, I think.  In any case, I soldiered on through the snow to the blood donation site (falling after slipping on some ice along the way, natch). Now I’m just hoping that the bloodletting earned me some good karma to prevent complete decrepitude before I am out of my early 30s.

 

01/02 / 20/10

Normally, at the end of the old year and beginning of the new, I’m faced with the textbook what-does-it-all-mean existential crisis.  When the cheer and festivities of the holidays are winding down, and I realize that life must return to routine, I begin to question my priorities and the point of it all.   Am I making enough time for the people I care about?   Am I focusing too much on work?

But this year, Sartre and his ilk are far from my mind. I’m not entirely sure why.  But I’ll take happiness for a change.

Happy new year.  May this one be the best yet.

 

not too shabby

When I graduated from law school, the Bun got me a series of golf lessons as a graduation present.  The idea was that golf would be both an outdoor activity that he and I could take part in together and something at which every lawyer should be marginally competent.

Over the last year or so, we’ve tried to get out to the driving range at least once every weekend when the weather has cooperated, gone a number of rounds of pitch and putt, and  hacked our way through a few 9 hole games on a par 3 course.  It would not be an exaggeration to say that in the case of the pitch and putt and nine holes, most of these outings have been replete with tears, accusations of cheating, and an alarming amount of cursing.

But I was cautiously optimistic when we set out today for an afternoon of pitch and putt. Things at the driving range had been going relatively well of late. Balls I hit actually had been making it off the tee a good percentage of the time.

And I am thrilled to say that we had a wonderful round. I made par twice, and I even got a birdie! What was most exciting was realizing that we were “those people.”  The last time the Bun and I had played pitch and putt, there was a couple right behind us that seemed to make every shot perfectly.  We sighed and fretted as they kept having to wait for us, and we wondered if we could ever play as easily and comfortably as they did. They made it look effortless, and, more importantly, they made it look fun.

And as fantastic as it was to hit one great shot after another today (and it was pretty fantastic), it was even better to realize that we were those people, enjoying each other’s company and having a wonderful day out on the golf course. I don’t think I even cursed once.

 

big spender

I’ve talked at tedious length before about my issues with spending money here, here, and here.  Indeed, the very title of this blog springs from conversations Big Mo and I had during  law school about how after three years of penury we would be living the high life once we broke into biglaw. (These very conversations date us, of course. This is when the Dow was well above 10,000, layoffs were unheard of, and biglaw salaries kept spiraling ever upward.)

But as longtime readers (all three of you) know, every significant purchase sets off a Lincoln-Douglas style great debate in my mind. Can I afford it? Yes. Do I need it? Probably not. Do I want it? I think so. What I’ve come to realize is that the deciding vote is based on how I answer this question: do I deserve it?

Over the last nine months,  the answer to that final question was, for the most part, a definitive “no.”  That I had a job was enough of a reward; I wasn’t working hard enough to merit my salary, and I certainly wasn’t working hard enough to merit rewarding myself with a pricey consumer good.

But yet, here and there I’ve had periods of being relatively busy. I’ve even managed to meet my hours’ quota for the last three weeks. And so when I woke up this morning feeling bit with the shopping bug, I felt only the slightest twinge of guilt when I purchased this (after finding a promo code that would give me free shipping and consulting my log of birthday money, Christmas money, and, yes, remaining graduation money, and realizing I’d only have to put $50 of my own money towards it). Do I deserve it? Perhaps not. But I have to say, I am really, really looking forward to coming home after yet another almost twelve hour day and seeing it waiting for me in the foyer of my building.

 

to flashcard or not to flashcard; that is the question

Over at Letters to a Young Attorney, KHC  has been putting out some rather sound advice to all of you out there studying for the bar right now.  And reading KHC’s words of wisdom reminded me that I have a few of my own to share regarding flashcards.

You do not have to make flashcards to pass the bar. You read that correctly. You can pass the bar without making a single flashcard. I did.

If making flashcards is your thing, go for it. I’m not knocking them. But for me, outlining was what got me through three years of law school, and I saw no point in trying something untested to get me through the biggest test of my life.

It’s easy for me to say this now that I’m on the other side of things, but I vividly remember how intimidated I was by all of those giant stacks of flashcards I saw my BarBri classmates toting around.  As I toiled away on my outline, I questioned whether I should be spending more time with the 3 x 5’s.

Bar takers, take heart. There is much, much, much more studying to do, and you have months of waiting before you find out if you’ll be settling in for another round of BarBri, but know this: you can pass the bar without flashcards.

 

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i left my stomach in chicago

The Bun and I just returned from a fabulous (albeit rainy) weekend in Chicago.  Thank you to everyone who gave us great tips on what to see, do, and eat!  We hit up the Art Institute on Thursday after a delicious lunch at Gage.  Dinner was Giordano’s pizza. Yum! Saturday was spent exploring the sights of  Millennium Park (the Bean and the wonderful sounds of the orchestra practicing) and Grant Park  (Buckingham Fountain), taking in a Cubs game, and enjoying a delicious beverage in the Signature Lounge on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower.  The torrential downpours did not stop us from enjoying an architectural tour of Chicago by boat on Saturday as well as a superb dinner at Blackbird. The in-between hours were spent watching Up (KHC, it *is* a fantastic movie!) and touring Navy Pier once the sun came out.  It was a whirlwind trip, but we had a wonderful time!

 

Protected: the summers are coming! the summers are coming!

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mcbucks

So this is completely off the topic of anything biglaw related, but as it has become a personal obsession, what better avenue to expound on it than my navel-gazing blog?

I am totally intrigued by McDonald’s McCafe product line and advertising campaign. Random, right? But there you have it. I read every article I can find on the topic, and I discuss it with everyone who has an iota of interest in fast food and/or coffee.

At the core, I think my fascination has to do with the fact that I can’t comprehend why McDonald’s would spend such extravagant sums of money promoting a product that I can’t see people buying in lemming-like droves from McDonald’s. Is McDonald’s trying to lure away the Starbucks faithful?[FN1] Or are they merely trying to provide a new high calorie beverage choice to their frequent diners? Who exactly is buying the McCafe?

And why is McDonald’s trying to strong arm its way into the coffeehouse that Starbucks built? I am no Starbucks loyalist by any stretch. Like Paul Rudd’s character in Role Models, I find much about Starbucks to be pretentiously unnecessary. (Sorry, Mrs. Marbury.) But I am nevertheless enthralled by the brand. To paraphrase from an NPR story I heard years ago, Starbucks has been wildly successful at selling a low-end product at mid-level prices in a seemingly high-end atmosphere. It’s a brilliant strategy, really. A beverage from Starbucks feels like a luxury, but it’s one in which you don’t feel guilty indulging on a daily basis. And I don’t care how much whipped cream and chocolate syrup McDonald’s heaps on its McCafes; there is nothing luxurious about stepping into a McDonald’s. (Sorry, Dr. F. Or should I say Grillmaster F.?)

I’ll be very curious to see how all of this plays out. It’s not so much that I think that the McCafe will be a fantastic failure; it’s just that I can’t see right now how it will be a success.

[FN1]: Starbucks certainly seems to think so based on their ads playing on the guilt of the Volvo-driving, latte-sipping liberal set. “That’s not the taste of overpriced burnt coffee in your mouth. It’s the taste of overpriced burnt fair trade coffee!”

 

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