Little Miss Law Does Dublin

My apologies, dear readers, for the radio silence on the blog for the past week. I took a much-needed long weekend and flew to Dublin, Ohio, land of real autumn, lots of quaint looking brick buildings (even McDonalds, which was an adorable house, missing the famous golden arches) and loads of football fans, but most importantly, the hometown and now-current town of my friend JV, who got married this weekend. I did myself the favor of staying as far away from computers as possible (except for a minor dalliance into email checking in the Marriott Business Center on Saturday — just couldn’t resist), and it made this weekend one of the most (mentally, at least) relaxing times I’ve had in recent memory.

The wedding was very nice, the bride was gorgeous and had an amazing dress, and even the first dance (which she was nervous about) went off without a hitch. The highlights of the weekend, though, went beyond those fundamental wedding things. Here are some tidbits, in no particular order:

First, one of the groom’s friends was a former stripper. Yes, a male stripper. All the girls were talking about it before we met him on the night of the rehearsal dinner, so we were prepared. After the rehearsal dinner, we all went to a local bar and I ended up talking to the stripper (disguised as a normal guy in a button down shirt and purposely-ripped jeans). Remembering that the groom had warned us not to ask him about his previous career, I asked him innocently, “So D. says you’re a DJ?” “Yeah,” he replied, “I DJ at a strip club.” All righty then!

Anyway, Stripper ended up being fun to talk to. And what does Little Miss Law find to chat about with a stripper, you ask? That’s right . . . our cats. (No, I’m not kidding. His is named Mayhem.) Still, the following night when Stripper and I were chatting again (he was seated at our table), the groom’s brother came over and was hovering around us looking concerned. He apparently later pulled my friend J. aside and told her to “look out” for me. What? A guy who stripped for EIGHT YEARS isn’t the most wholesome, dateable guy? Shocker, and here I was planning our wedding. Thanks for the concern, though, guys!

Second, dear readers, I had a realization. Not that I was planning on it, but I am definitely not moving to the Midwest. In fact, even though I have recently been picturing myself in my flannel shirt, writing books on my small town porch, I think I can scratch out anything that’s not a city. Yes, Dublin had something of a storybook feel to it, with all the brilliant fall leaves, the pine trees, and all the brick. But let’s just say that our encounters with the locals left something to be desired. Two reasons: 1) The most common thing said to me (with a slight accent) was “You’re from L.A.?? No shit!” and 2) In Dublin there appears to be nothing to do but drink beer and watch Buckeye football. Now, I can certainly watch football and drink a cold one on the weekend. Fine. Do I want to do this at the local bar from 8 am to midnight, wearing my Ohio State sweatshirt? Um … I think I might pass on that. And indeed, when J. and I went to the much-hyped “Dub Pub” after the wedding, we encountered nothing but die-hard Buckeye fans, all crammed into a packed sports bar in a strip mall, right next to the dry cleaner. One guy, who from afar we dubbed “Varsity Blues,” was sporting a Buckeye jersey and a Chris Carmack-esque jock look. J. asked him whether he was a current student at Ohio State, or whether he was an alum. “Neither,” he replied. (This phenomenon is summed up perfectly by the poster we saw at the airport, advertising the Ohio State merchandise store: “If you wear the sweatshirt, they’ll think you graduated.” Yeeeeah.)

Third, did you know that Dublin has a whole field of human-sized corn ears? K., my friend T.’s boyfriend, wanted to stop because he didn’t believe, looking at the corn from the road, that it was really human-sized. (We vetoed him because we were cold and tired.) He joked that perhaps it was T.-sized, (who is 5’3″) but certainly not his height (6’4″). Well, K., I’ll have you know that the corn is indeed 6 feet tall — perhaps not as tall as you, but I think it can safely be called “human-size.”

Finally, I lived one of my dreams and visited White Castle, which I have wanted to do ever since watching Harold & Kumar. Sadly, I had just eaten lunch and so I couldn’t bring myself to eat even one tiny burger, so K. took one for the team and ordered it. But I have to say, the food smelled disgusting. It was bad in the restaurant and then it filled the entire rental car with its smell. So I guess my fantasies can end and I’ll stick to In-N-Out.

Dear readers, I have more stories but I am somewhat jetlagged (after all, it’s 2 a.m. in Dublin).

To be continued…

And so it goes.

Dear readers, I am waiting for a phone call at work, so what better time to update my blog?  So much more fun than, say (gasp!) doing actual work! 

My job has really been stressing me out this week.  I know I have a stressful job, and most of the time I try to just roll with the punches and embrace it, but somehow recently I have become overwhelmed by how long my “to-do” list has become.  What’s most annoying is that often I am waiting on other people–the client, the partner, opposing counsel–to get back to me so that I can finish things up.  I hate when I have my stuff together, but because others don’t, I end up scrambling.  I was kvetching to my office neighbor, L. and I said, “Is this my fault?” and she said, “Not your fault.  It may be your problem, but it’s not your fault.”  And  that’s when it hit me–two different things, same result.  As long as it’s my ultimate responsibility, it falls on me, and it doesn’t matter who was on time and who was slacking off, it’s still me.

Anyway, enough about that, Little Miss Law is even starting to bore herself!  🙂  Yaaaaawwwwn.

So last night I had the long awaited drink with my ex, A.  What was planned to be a drink became dinner, since we didn’t meet up until about 8:00 and were fairly hungry.  First, though, I got to help him with an amusingly typical agent’s assistant task–shop for a “first day gift” for a client.  Apparently whenever an actor they represent starts shooting a movie, they buy the actor a gift to celebrate.  I could reveal what actor and what movie….but then A. would have to kill me.  And perhaps all of you.  So I won’t.  But at any rate, we scoured the Century City mall for pocket watches, and I learned some useful pocket watch-buying tips.  If your budget is in the 1000’s, then you should go to Tourneau, which had really gorgeous antiquey looking pocket watches.  The lady there kept trying to convince us that they were the cheapest pocket watch seller around and asked A. no less than 10 times if he wanted to open an account and get a payment plan.

After Tourneau was too expensive, and Bloomingdale’s was fresh out of pocket watches, we headed to Macy’s (despite the Bloomie’s sales rep’s snotty comment that “if we don’t have pocket watches, they won’t have pocket watches”).  There we stumbled upon the perfect thing…a Swiss Army pocket watch, all for the lovely price of $175.  Sold!

Next we went on to dinner at Pink Taco.  I know you were probably hoping for some juicy, scandalous stories, but for better or for worse, it was just really nice and friendly and good to catch up.  It was a little bit of a Twilight Zone experience meeting him at the mall, though — I had a flashback to when we were first dating and it was still clandestine because he was still at the firm, and we were working on a case together.  A few nights we had to work late on the case, so we would go and have a little dinner date at the mall food court and then come back to the office.  And even though we sat on different floors, it felt nice to know that we were both there.  In fact, I really miss having him around.  Before we ever dated, he was one of my best friends and confidants at work.  That is part of what makes me so happy that we are friends again.

Anyway, we even had a really open conversation about the people we had each dated after we broke up.  I told him about my recent ex, he told me about the (according to him) crazy girl he dated, who the day that he broke up with her, showed up at his doorstep again begging him to take her back.  Sheesh–I’m glad I’ve never been guilty of that kind of crazy behavior!  It was weird telling A. about my ex, just like I told him about A.  It made me think that even though it seems unfeasible now, maybe down the line he and I will be able to have the same conversation that A. and I had, and talk about the people we are dating/have dated, laugh, give each other advice, and be normal.

Then again, it makes me a bit ill just thinking about it, so we are clearly not there yet.

Anyway, the most interesting thing about the evening was looking at A. and thinking, Wow, I was really, really infatuated with this guy.  And instead of making me feel wistful or regretful or upset, it just made me think, “Huh.”  I feel like a different person than the girl who was crazy about him, and that is so nice.  Time marches on, you grow up….

And so it goes.

Secrets about Little Miss Law

How’s that for a “hook”? 

The truth is that I have been planning all day to sit down tonight and write an appropriately witty blog…and then I sat down at my laptop and stared at the screen for about 10 minutes.  Riiiiiiight.  I’m just going to go ahead and blame that on jetlag and general tiredness (a special shout out to Noodles, who waited a whole extra hour this morning–until 5:30 a.m. this time– to start meowing his pretty little head off).

Anyway, since I don’t have much in the way of interesting anecdotes to share with you today (as much as I know you are all dying to hear all about my thrilling research memo on the subject of fraud damages), I thought I’d share some random tidbits about Little Miss Law for those who don’t know me personally.

1.  I’m an only child.  But I’m told I’m not a “typical only child.”  Whatever that means.

2.  I have a weird celebrity crush on Stephen Colbert.  Don’t ask me why, but I find him sort of sexy (you know, in that geeky-fake-pundit way). Speaking of which, you MUST watch this clip from his show. Trust me, it’s hilarious.

3.  Even though I love nice meals out and appreciate good food, I still indulge my cravings for things I loved as a child, like Lipton noodle soup in a box (with an egg dropped in it).  Of course, I can only cook these things when I am home alone.  Shh, don’t tell anyone.

4.  I have been at my law job for 2 years but there are days where I still feel like I am playing dress-up.

5.  My biggest vice is being a gossip.  (But if you tell me an important secret, I will take it to the grave.)

6.  I have accidentally killed every plant I have ever had.  (Luckily Noodles meows as much as he does, so I never forget about him.)

7.  I won the state spelling bee when I was in 5th grade.  (Yes, I am a BIG NERD.  But that isn’t a secret.)

8.  I am obsessed with teenage soap operas.  Laguna Beach, the OC, the Hills, Dawson’s Creek back in the day…bring it on!

9.  I have been to see psychics on more than one occasion, and I actually sort of believe in them (though the last 2 have been dead wrong…hmm).

10.  I was raised celebrating Christmukkah (though I didn’t have a name for it till the OC) but never went to church or temple.

Ok, so maybe those “secrets” weren’t too juicy.  But I didn’t want to feel like that girl who, on a first date, talks about her ex, her family issues and her diet.  You know that girl.  I’ll save the juicy stuff for our next “date.”  🙂

Little Miss Law Comes Home

I must say, there is nothing better than traveling, and then there is nothing better than coming home to your own apartment and sleeping in your own bed.  Aaaahhh. 

I wasn’t quite ready to leave Maui yesterday morning — I was wishing I could have a couple more days of vacation — but after a 5 + hour flight, an hour waiting at LAX for my bag, and a taxicab ride, I was the happiest girl in the world when I finally turned my key in the lock to my front door and my legs were encircled by a meowing Noodles.  (He was so happy to see me, in fact, that he followed me around like a puppy all evening; started meowing at 4:30 a.m., and didn’t stop meowing, even after I fed him, until 7:30 a.m., when I finally pulled myself, bleary eyed, out of bed and started getting ready for work.)

At any rate, it was a fantastic vacation.  The weather was perfect:  mostly hot and sunny, with some brief periods of luscious tropical rain.  The balcony of our suite overlooked the well-landscaped grounds, the pool area and, beyond that, the ocean.  I slept on a Murphy bed in the living room, next to the balcony, with the sliding glass door open, so every morning when I woke up as the sun rose, I would turn over in bed and look out at the water.   What a way to start the day. 

Our days were full of a good mix of exploring, eating and lounging — my three favorite things to do on vacation.  We ate some amazing food, including to-die-for pork pot roast and some excellent seafood.  We went to the Maui Ocean Center aquarium, which was really neat; snorkeled and swam, and then ate dinner, at Napili Bay; took a submarine ride; shopped; and had lots of pool time.  The highlight of my trip, though, was a 1/2 day snorkel trip out to Turtle Town and Molokini.  There is nothing I have experienced that is more tranquil than snorkeling, surrounded by fish, feeling my body weightless and suspended.  We saw so many fish at Molokini, it was like swimming in an aquarium.  Truly amazing.

It was also great to spend time with Mom & Dad and our family friends.  We haven’t taken a family vacation in a long time, so it was a really special treat.

Finally, I got in some reading, as I had hoped.  I took with me the three books that I mentioned in my last post, and then I ended up buying a book at LAX (because I had packed the other 3 in my suitcase): Back to Wando Passo, by David Payne.   It took me a bit to get into it, but once I did I was hooked.  I’m sure my parents had a flashback to when I was an avid reader in elementary school and they couldn’t get me to put down a book long enough to have dinner!  Payne is an extraordinary writer, and the book is quite gripping.  Using fantasy elements, it weaves two dramatic love stories, one from the present day and one from the Civil War period, which both took place at Wando Passo, an old rice plantation in South Carolina.  Payne must have done an incredible amount of research — about the Civil War, plantation life in the South, race relations, Cuban mysticism and witchcraft, blues music, and on and on — because the novel is so vivid, descriptive, and most of all accurate.  If you are willing to suspend disbelief and lose yourself in this book, I recommend it.

I also read a lighter, summer beach read — The Guy Not Taken, a collection of short stories by Jennifer Weiner (who I love — she also wrote Good in Bed and In Her Shoes).  The stories were funny, sad and genuine, and it’s an extremely quick read.

Well, dear readers, I must go collect my laundry and head to bed. On Friday I am off to my next adventure — a bachelorette party in Vegas — and I’m sure that more stories will come from that! (Though if the old Vegas adage applies, I may not be able to write about it…)

The “end” is just the beginning

Ok, ok.  That title is such a tease.  It suggests that I am going to be writing about something deep and insightful, like starting over after a rough time, bouncing back from a breakup, or something along the lines of one of my favorite song lyrics: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”  (SO 1998.)  Yes, that would be an excellent topic for a post.  But not for today.

First, my apologies for the radio silence on my blog.  I have been half uninspired, half busy having fun,  and half (YES I know that makes 1 1/2 — shhh!!) trying to tie up all the loose ends at work to avoid having to answer calls from my law firm on my cell phone while I lay on the Maui beach and soak up some sun and some R & R.  The  long awaited vacation is almost upon me!!  After months of fantasizing, as of Wednesday I am leaving L.A., work, and all my everyday worries behind.  I can’t wait!

And here comes the real meaning of the title — it is the end of the summer in the world of my firm, since all the summer associates are about to leave.  We even had the “end-of-summer” party on Saturday.  But for me, the highlight of my summer is still to come!  So the “end” of the summer is just the beginning…ok, it’s cheezy.  So sue me.  (I feel like I say that too much.  As though there is not enough litigation in my life as is!  Sheesh.)

The end-of-summer party was classic of my firm.  First, there was the dress theme.  When I was a summer associate, the theme was the Roaring 20’s.  Where everyone else was understated in black dresses and pearls, I was too eager and new to know any better, and I took the theme seriously, borrowing a full flapper costume from a friend–fishnets, hair feather and all.  And I didn’t even have the wits to be embarrassed about it at the time; I’m just cringing in hindsight. 

Anyway, the theme of Saturday’s party was Black and White.  Everyone was quite tastefully dressed…the only people who stuck out were those who missed the black and white memo (polka dot pale blue tie, anyone?) but all in all, my office-mates clean up well. 

The evening was held at a partner’s home; he’s one of my favorites and I’m on 2 cases with him.  Earlier in the week, I had told him an answer he liked for one of our cases, so he told me that as a “reward” he would specially make me a Cosmopolitan at this party, even though it wasn’t on the drink menu.  (As I tell this story, you must picture that this partner is pushing 70, and of everyone in my life he reminds me most of my grandfather.  So NO, it’s not sketchy, it’s just funny.)  All week he bragged about his Cosmopolitan.

When I arrived at the party, I walked over to say hi to the host and others.  They were standing adjacent to the bar that was set up outside; in addition to the bartenders there were several waiters circulating and offering hors d’oeuvres.  Immediately, the host broke from the group, grabbed my arm and steered me into the kitchen, where he pulled out the lime juice, cranberry juice, vodka, triple sec and martini shaker that he had set aside.  He mixed the drink and waited expectantly as I sipped it.  He wasn’t joking around — he mixes a mean Cosmo!  Later, when my drink ran out, he dashed inside to pour me another one.  Now there’s a host.  (Does it take 70 years of life for a man to be that attentive?  Kidding!)

The food at the party was really sensational — there were all sorts of food stations.  I meant to work my way around, but after a generous helping of the best chicken curry I have ever had, and a cone full of yummy French fries, I was stuffed. 

Then, the dancing began.  All the bigtime partners were there and it was adorable to see them dancing with their wives or husbands.  Our jobs are stressful and takes its toll on many relationships, but some of these couples have been together for decades and you can just see how happy they are together.  It’s a beautiful thing to see. 

And with that, the “summer” has come to an end.

A couple of more things before I bid you adieu for the evening, dear readers.  First, I really wanted to do my laundry tonight.  But 2 of the washers are broken and the other 2 are being used.  Either I will stay up late tonight (doubtful) or wait till the last minute tomorrow (likely).  This is one of many reasons that I often fantasize about my own little house.  *Sigh*.

And now, another confession.  These days all my confessions seem to be about the awful TV I find myself watching the couple of nights a week that I stay home and veg with Noodles.  Tonight the new gem is: Scott Baio is 45 and Single.  I don’t even want to explain.  It’s exactly what it sounds like.  Wow, new shows need to come on and I need to get TiVo…stat.

Reading, Writing and Fake Meat

Yet another quiet day at the office.  I sit at my near-clean desk (it just wouldn’t be me if it weren’t a little messy and cluttered) and stare at my brand-new flat computer screen.  I am in love with this screen as much as I have been in love with any inanimate object in recent memory.  The screen is large and bright, and as I type the words seem brighter and crisper than before.  My old computer screen was covered in Post-Its with my scribbling–to-do lists, phone numbers, reminders– but to put flourescent notes on my beautiful new screen would seem sacreligious somehow.

As I sit, I am contemplating what my next read will be.  I have a perhaps bizarre habit of, every so often, compulsively purchasing a pile of books off Amazon that then gather dust on my shelf for months and months, while I amuse myself in other ways — TV, books I purchase in the interim at Borders etc.  But I have now almost completely weaned myself off of TV (minus Entourage and occasionally the Daily Show) and so I am left to either finish working my way through my collection of books, or purchase something new.  Most likely I will finally (a year after purchasing it) begin The Year of Magical Thinking.

I find that these days, as I read, I do something that I have always done, but more so–I try to read as a writer.  I delight in certain turns of phrase, I marvel over descriptions that clearly involved substantial research by the author, I wonder whether I, too, given the time and the resources, could produce anything readable.  More and more, as I blog, I feel that writing is just something I have to do.  I had not written (aside from legal documents) in so long, and now that writing is part of my daily life again, I feel alive in a way that I forgot existed. 

***** A few hours later, I have just returned from lunch with some of my fellow associates and summer associates.  Today we ventured to Real Food Daily in WeHo for some vegan cuisine (one of the summer associates is vegan and another is vegetarian, and so far this summer we have subjected them to many a lunch of watching us stuff our faces with burgers while they quietly eat a garden salad, so we decided to return the favor). 

My meal was quite good — ginger tofu and veggies over soba noodles — but overall, I’m sure I would perish if forced to live a vegan lifestyle.  As an avid meat-atarian, the idea of fake meat (today’s specials included fake Salisbury steak and fake meat loaf) really creeps me out (I know, I know–I should admit that real meat is much more disgusting on many levels, but I love it, so sue me). 

To top it off, the restaurant had a list as long as my arm of desserts, each one sounding more tantalizing than the last.  I ordered the chocolate pudding, thinking to myself that my pudding taste buds are hardly sophisticated — I buy Jell-o pudding snack packs at the grocery store and am happy as a clam.  However, I was unpleasantly surprised to find that the consistency of the pudding was what I imagine it would be if you mixed cocoa powder, cream and a healthy serving of blackboard chalk in the blender.  Blech.

That’s OK, tonight I am going to Hamburger Mary’s, one of my favorite neighborhood spots, where there is no fake meat in sight!

Heading “Home”

Today is my last day up with the family before I return to L.A. this evening. It’s funny because whenever I talk to my parents about coming up to visit them, I always refer to it as coming “home” – but in reality, this isn’t my home anymore, and hasn’t been in many years, so tonight will be the real trip home!

I must say, my trip has gone a little too fast. Yesterday I felt more peaceful than I have in a long time. We had a great day — went to the Saturday Market, an outdoor street fair with local artesans, food stands, and a Farmer’s Market; went to dinner at a Japanese teppanyaki restaurant; and spent the evening playing games and watching Curb Your Enthusiasm with our family friends. It is so quiet and dark here at night that I sleep incredibly deeply and wake up feeling so refreshed. if I had known that my big case were going to settle, I probably would have planned to stay here till the 4th of July. L.A. is a lot of things, and I haven’t found any city I would prefer to live in, but it is hardly a serene place to live. When I come back here, I remember that in my heart of hearts, I am a small town Oregon girl, and I need to honor that part of myself.

Then again, my “real” life is in L.A. and it will be nice to get back to it. Noodles, don’t cry, I’m coming home!!

I’m off for a final meal up here, at my favorite brunch spot that we’ve been going to since I was a child. More from L.A. tomorrow!

PS. While at the Saturday Market I bought a framed black and white photograph from a local photographer, James Guay. His work is really incredible, check him out.

Things I Don’t Want to Hear About While Eating

1)  The Zone Diet.

2) The “Paleo Diet.”

3) The Atkins Diet.

4) The South Beach Diet.

5)  Jenny Craig.

6)  The “French Women Don’t Get Fat” Diet.

I think you get the picture.

I love my co-workers, but it seems that lately, every other person in my office is on some diet or another.  And really, what better thing to talk about, while I am buttering my roll and heaping my plate full of pasta, than your newest diet?  What better way to kick off my weekend than to talk about your caloric intake as I drink my 1000-calorie margarita at Friday happy hour?

On a fundamental level, I do understand it.  My job is nothing if not incredibly sedentary.  My main exercise of the day consists of walking back and forth to the bathroom.  Also, my entire workday essentially revolves around food.  Lunch is served in the attorney dining room at 12:30 sharp, and by that time, my stomach has usually started growling audibly.  So I consume a huge lunch, and if that is unsatisfying, I will then gravitate toward the desserts.  This is not to mention that every other day, it is someone’s birthday celebration, which always includes cake/bagels/donuts, and the like.  And one of the assistants who sits near me has a perfect glass cookie jar that she painstakingly fills every day with an assortment of packaged cookies: Oreos, ginger snaps, etc.  So I am never without plenty of food.

Still, some of these diets are truly preposterous.  My favorite (and by “favorite,” I mean the one that I find most ridiculous) is the Paleo Diet.  Now, it’s not that I dispute the potential merits of this diet. It is somewhat more reasonable than, say, Atkins (which I was turned off to completely after seeing a very chubby guy in my law school section eating a tupperware full of bacon-wrapped hot dogs. Just wrong). But the best part of it is that, not only are you supposed to eat the foods that the hunter-gatherers ate, you are supposed to only eat them with your hands.  How awesome is that? 

The real problem I have with all this diet craziness is that most diets seem impossible to stick to for any length of time.  Case in point:  my boss is on the afore-mentioned Paleo Diet, but makes a point to mention that he will break the diet for special occasions, about once a week.  A few weeks ago, we had a party at a local restaurant to kick off the summer and welcome all the summer associates.  Boss is seated next to me, and we are chatting for a while about various things.  Then, someone mentions that chocolate cake has been ordered, and Boss’ ears perk up.  For the next 15 minutes, he raptly watches the door, waiting for the chocolate cake to emerge.  The moment the cake comes into view, he all but lunges for the waiter and grabs a plate.  I kid you not, had there been women and children in Boss’ way, he would have taken them out, all in the name of that little (ok, actually it was HUGE) slice of chocolate heaven.

You know what I say?  Diet, schmiet.