My Life, As Told Between (Baby Cakes') Naps

I don’t cry.  Ever.  Well, unless I’m reading a sad book, watching a depressing movie, or catching a glimpse of a particularly touching commercial.  I rarely cry at the occurence of non-fictional events however, with the exception of funerals and graduation ceremonies (oddly enough, the only graduation that really had me bawling was from junior high – go figure).  Today, I almost cried in frustration.  In front of someone!  Plagued by a rapidly approaching deadline, a seemingly insurmountable pile of work, and weeks of unrelenting computer problems, I got teary-eyed explaining my latest setback to our technical support person.  Teary-eyed!  (Those of you who know me well will understand my disbelief and confusion.)  I’m still reeling from the incident, even though it was really only an incident in my head.  The person didn’t notice and, truth to tell, there weren’t any real tears, just the feeling of impending tears.  And I was in shock (“No, you’re kidding me.  I’m almost CRYING over this??!”) more then upset.  Still.  Weird.  I must be more stressed out then I think.

What I _am_ currently obsessed with is purses (see preceding post).  I’ve even sunk so low as to spend countless hours reading…please pity me…blogs devoted exclusively to them.*  Yes, there are blogs devoted entirely to purses.  Here’s one, here’s another one, and this one is probably my favorite.**  I’m sure there’s some deep psychological explanation for this recent phenomenon though.  There has to be.  I refuse to believe it’s just because I’m shallow.  I may need to become a vegetarian or save the world or something to make myself feel better.  Or, better yet, maybe I’ll just buy another purse.

Speaking of which, the newest one I ordered from ebay arrived yesterday.  It’s a beautiful deep red.  It’s not designer, it’s not expensive, and it’s not even real leather (the horror!), but I absolutely love it.  I love it so much that I had to scramble to find an appropriate outfit to complement the purse this morning.  Unfortunately I hadn’t picked up my dry cleaning yet and was left with very few options.  Even more unfortunately, the outfit I ended up wearing made me look a bit like a sailor (white slacks and a black top with some white piping), but it was worth it to sport the new purse.  All the way to the office.  Where is sat in my desk drawer.  All day.  Moldering.  And I sat at my desk.  All day.  Moldering.  Mired in a seemingly endless, tedious, overwhelming, frustrating and complicated document review project.   

Um, I really need to go buy a purse now.

*And yet I wonder why I’m still only half-way through the five books I’ve been reading for the last several months!

**I would never actually _spend_ that much on a purse.  I’m entirely too thrifty (read “cheap”).  Many of the purses which are highlighted actually elicit a great deal of confusion on my end.  However, I’m absolutely fascinated by people’s preferences.  Especially when they’re very pronounced.  What makes an object desired by one person and disdained by another?  Why do people have such diverse opinions on beauty?  (Although perhaps this applies primarily to objects.  Haven’t there been some studies that have found there are certain social/cultural norms universally defining attractiveness in humans?)^

^Apologies for the long (and boring) post.  I’ll try harder next time.  =)  Also, those of you who actually enjoy the interplay between texts and footnotes should read this book.

Let me first set the record straight by noting that I am, by no means, obsessed with sheep (see proceeding post).  Despite the fact that I’ve now created three posts about my non-obsession.  The reason for this particular post is because I’ve recently discovered a statistics feature on this site that lets me see what “referers” are linking people to this site.  For non-bloggers out there, that means essentially what searches people run that brings up this site as a hit which then leads people to click on it (er, or something of the sort, I’m not a particularly sophisticated blogger so I may be wrong).  In any case, oddly enough, the most popular searches that brings up this site are searches for “cartoon sheep.”  I had no idea there were that many people out there interested in cartoon sheep.  Enough to do frequent web searches for them. This site has also been frequented by nameless individuals interested in “smiting God,” “diet buddies,” “evil blackberry” (I know, that one has me puzzled too) and “nap sleep.”  Fascinating.  Well, not really, but it’s been a slow day/week/year/sum of my existence. 

(I’ve no doubt now made this the first site that shows up the next time someone does a search for “cartoon sheep”!  I just hope they’re not too disappointed.) 

My roommate, who is now working at my firm on a temporary basis to help with a large document review project, made a rather insightful comment the other day.  She’s noticed that between the effusive praises pouring forth from my senior partner and the more sarcastic comments I get from one of the junior partners on my team, I will probably stay pretty well grounded as an attorney.  The senior partner, SP, believes in positive reinforcement and tells me daily that I’m a legal genius (which I know I am far, far from, but is still nice to hear).  She premises such statements on the fact that I can write out my full name, know how to spell “c-o-u-r-t,” and usually manage to tie my own shoelaces.  The junior partner, JP, assesses my abilities more realistically and believes in the socratic method of teaching.  JP is brilliant and a little intimidating to work with (although it’s helped that he’s told me he thinks of me and the other first year in the firm as the little sisters he never had).  Our last conversation ended with him asking (I hope rhetorically), “Now, you wouldn’t write a motion and file it with the Court on toilet paper, would you?”     

I mention this because I’m currently working on something I hope to turn in to him tomorrow.   If I could find an easy way to do it, I’d turn it in written on toilet paper.  I think he’d find it funny.  =)  

Summer’s approaching and I’m getting antsy.  Something’s been bothering me for the last couple of weeks and it’s slowly dawning on me that what’s bothering me is the fact that it’s almost May and I don’t have plans to move anytime soon.  This is it.  I’m here permanently.  At least for the foreseeable future. 

Over the last eight years, I’ve lived in a succession of dorm rooms and apartments, spanning six different cities, covering both coasts and one other country.  Towards the end of law school, I was getting tired of the constant upheaval and uprooting (even though it was self-imposed) and slowly coming to regret accepting my job offer in New York.  Aside from the horrendous stories I had heard about being a New York big firm lawyer, I knew that I wouldn’t be there for long.  California would always be home for me.  I spent much of my third year shivering and plotting ways to get back to California (well, thinking about it anyways – “plotting” may be too proactive a word).  As luck would have it, there was an unexpected opening in the LA office of my firm and I was thrilled to get the call last summer to make the switch (unfortunately, this also reinforced my belief that if I do nothing, things will work out).  Now, after having been back in California for almost a year, my wanderlust is starting to act up again and I’m pondering what cities I want to try out next.  It’s funny, I’ve always known I was going to settle down in California, and thought I was ready for that after I finished law school, but now I’m not so sure.  Even if I were to settle in California, it wouldn’t be in LA.  At the same time, I love the people I work with and am getting so much mentorship and training, I’d be an idiot to leave anytime soon.  I guess I have to start being an adult at some point, right?     

Behold, I’ve brought you sheep.  Not to be too much of a girl about this, but I’ve found the flock of sheep I’ve been looking for, and they are adorable.  I’m sharing with you all so you can spread the joy.

And, in yet another sign of how LA is slowly turning me into a (much more) materialistic person (because I’m sure the fact that I have a real source of income for the first time in my life couldn’t have anything to do with it), I’m coming to love this site and am drooling over these shoes (which would be so cute with jeans, a white shirt, and a certain red purse – ML, I think you know which purse I’m talking about).  If you ever actually see me tottering on these 3.5 inch, $300 heels though, please shoot me.  The world would probably be better off for it… 

…although a small part of me is firmly convinced that these shoes will somehow make me a happier, more fulfilled person (at least until I get bored of them).  I’m such a horrible consumer.  Tell me what I should want and I’ll want it.  Sigh.  Well, they say the first step is admitting you have a problem.  I don’t know who they are or what the second step is, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be taking it in $300 shoes. 

Allegedly there is a site out there that will allow me to download cute floating sheep for use as IM icons.  If anyone out there knows of the existence of such a site, please email me.

In other news, there is no other news.  I’ve just been working a lot this week.  But at least I’m really appreciated.  The senior partner called my office the other day at 10:30am.  When I answered, her response was a disapproving, “I knew you’d already be in!”  When I reasonably pointed out that it was ten thirty in the morning, she replied, “Yes, but you were there when I left last night too [at 10:30pm].  You work too hard.  I’m going to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not stretching yourself too thin.”  I love my senior partner. 

Actually, I love all the partners.  One of the junior partners explained a court rule to me a couple of days ago which he dubbed “the 45 day rule.”  When I asked him a question today, he said, “Well, according to the 45 day rule, you can only do X.”  Noticing my puzzled look, he gently inquired, “Do you remember the 45 day rule?”  Here’s how the rest of the conversation went:

Me:  (*Silence, crickets chirping*)  “Ummm.  Yes?”   

Him:  “What’s the 45 day rule?”

Me:  (*Damn*)  “It’s, umm, that you can only do X after 45 days?”

Him:  “You don’t really remember the 45 day rule, do you?”

Me:  “No.”

Him:  “It’s okay.  [Explains rule again]”

Me:  “Okay.”

Him:  “You’re not going to remember that, are you?”

Me:  “Probably not.”

Him:  (*Shrugs*)  “Okay.”  

I suspect my roommate thinks I’m stupid. 

Imagine it:  It’s Friday.  Noon.  I’m pleasantly surprised to get an email at work from said roommate informing me that she has made banana bread.  “Great,” I think to myself, “I love banana bread.”  The email goes on to state that she’s made two loaves.  One for us and one she is going to send to her vegan brother.  The one for us is on the right hand side of the kitchen counter.  “Okay, easy enough,” I mentally note, “only eat the loaf on the right.”  After a late night out in Pasadena celebrating a friend’s birthday, I head home, excited by the prospect of freshly made banana bread.  I arrive at the apartment to find a note scrawled on our message board, essentially reiterating the email.  Our banana bread is on the right side of the counter.  Her brothers, which I’m again told I’m not to eat, is on the left.  “Hmm, okay.  Maybe she thinks I’d forgotten about that early email,” I mutter.  At this point, I’m a little tempted to eat her brother’s bread.  Because that’s the kind of person I am.  I turn and look on the counter and, I kid you not, there are NOTES ABOVE EACH LOAF designating one as “Vegan” and the other as “Not Vegan.”  The aforementioned notes were complete with arrows pointing downward to the respective loaves.  She had DRAWN ME A DIAGRAM in the event that the email, hand written message, and labels above the loaves weren’t quite clear enough.  Because I’m just that stupid.  =)

On another roommate-related note, we dropped by my office today to pick up some papers I needed (having both decided it was too nice a day to spend indoors doing work – much better to try to get some work done outside a Coffee Bean).  While there we ran into the Managing Partner of the office.  Left with little choice, I introduced him to my roommate, She of the Mini-skirt, “Roommate, this is the Managing Partner.  Please be appropriately deferential.  Kowtowing would not be frowned upon.  Managing Partner, this is my roommate.”  He smiles, says, “No, no, I have to do all the bowing around this office,” and executes a quick bow to demonstrate.  His other comment to her?  “You’re much taller then I thought you’d be.”  The reason behind his cryptic comment?  “Given how Y. says she keeps you under her thumb (*makes squashing gesture with his thumb to clarify*), I expected you to be much shorter.”  So random. 

And in non-roommate related news, I went to a cool cocktail party with some friends last night.  This of course necessitated a quick shopping trip to buy a cocktail-party-appropriate dress (because the eighty dresses I already have weren’t quite right).  The event somehow snowballed into me acquiring a completely new summer wardrobe.  I have a serious, serious shopping problem.  Please consider this my cry for help.  (Help.) 

Sorry (again) for the lack of updates.  Am having a rather Bleh week.  Too much to do, not enough time or energy to do it.  Damn you Daylight Savings Time!  You’ve robbed me of a precious hour this week!  (*shakes fist in anger*)  Apparently I can set all my clocks forward by an hour (well, except for the one in my car – it’s tricky) and tell myself that it’s 6:30am all I want, but my body stubbornly refuses to believe me when I try to force it out of bed to go running every morning.  It’s still firmly entrenched in the notion that it’s 5:30, despite what any foolish clock says, and realizes that only an insane person would force herself out of bed at 5:30 when not forced to at gunpoint.  The fact that the owls are still hooting at that time doesn’t help.  I’m hoping it really is “mind over matter” and that sooner or later, my body will see things my way.  Until then, I’m letting it get some much needed sleep.   

Also, this NY Times article made me sad.  I need to stop reading about the elderly.

My little sister, BN, recently bought a kitten.  Now, I absolutely adore my little sister, but she’s not a good pet owner.   I’ve told her this on numerous occasions (usually after the death of some poor, neglected pet).  She adamantly refuses to believe me.  So far she’s only inadvertantly killed pets occupying the bottom rungs of the cuteness ladder (goldfish, turtles, etc.), but she’s taken it up a notch with her most recent pet purchase.

Her problem is that she has a tendancy to lavish attention on things when she first gets them but then quickly loses interest.  We all hoped she would grow out of it when she turned five, but she didn’t (she’s twenty-three now).  Apparently, as independent and solitary as cats may be, even they need more attention then she’s able to provide.  Ophelia, her kitten, has the gall to still demand attention (even though BN has had her for three whole weeks now!) and has taken to pouncing on my little sister at random intervals when she’s studying or reading.  My sister thinks it has something to do with her cat’s need to stalk prey – Ophelia watches BN silently and pounces at any sign of movement.  She (the cat, not my sister) does the same to bugs and any moving objects in the apartment.  Unfortunately for Ophelia, it’s a relatively bug-free and motionless environment, hence not many stalking opportunities, and she’s too young to be let out into the Real World (I wish someone would decide I’m too young to be let out into the Real World!).  Tired of being pounced upon, my little sis is toying with the idea of BUYING A LIVE MOUSE AND RELEASING IT IN THE APARTMENT so that Ophelia will have something to chase and will leave her alone.  No.  Seriously. 

I only hope it’s a fast and asexual mouse.  I don’t think my sister has quite thought through all of the ramifications of her idea just yet.