The Eleventh Wheel

Another weekend is coming to an end, dear readers, and I thought I’d wrap it all up with a blog. Overall it was a pretty mellow weekend. I had to work part of the day yesterday and for a couple of hours today, but other than that I enjoyed the 4th annual cookie party with my former roommates, catching up on Netflix (Waitress and Superbad), reading (I am halfway through Saving Fish from Drowning) and, of course, my firm’s holiday party.

The holiday party was very nice–beautiful location, nice cocktail hour and appetizers, a meal, dancing. I love my co-workers, and the speeches were good (in particular one partner who had the crowd roaring with laughter – I literally had tears streaming down my face, I was laughing so hard). But still, I admit I didn’t exactly have fun. And I hate to say this, because I don’t want to be “that” whiny single person, but, well…frankly, it sort of sucks being a single in a sea of couples. For part of the night I was able to ignore the fact and even enjoy being a solo agent. During cocktail hour I wandered around and chatted with people, and felt sort of relieved to just be able to do my own thing. One funny thing about the night was that I was driving, so I only had 1/2 a glass of wine over the course of the whole night. My co-workers, on the other hand…not so much. Even my boss, when I was chatting with him toward the end of the night, was noticeably slurring his speech. People were getting very confessional with me, and I was just sort of nodding and humoring them.

Anyway, when my singleness became really noticeable was when we moved into the ballroom for the sit-down portion of the evening. There was no assigned seating, so people started grabbing up spots. Each table had 10 seats at it. Some of the girls I really like in my department encouraged me to come sit with them…but there were 10 seats, 5 couples already sitting there. One of my co-workers’ boyfriends went and stole a chair from another table so I could join them. This, of course, meant that I ended up stealing someone else’s napkin and fork, too. And at one point as I was eating my bloody prime rib and I looked around at everyone whispering conversation with ther spouse or boyfriend, I thought, Dear God, I’m the ELEVENTH WHEEL! (Actually, in the party as a whole I was probably the hundred-and-eleventh wheel, but who’s counting?)

After dinner I was literally dragged up on the dance floor by the arm, by my friend’s fiance. I danced while it was a group, but after a while, nobody was dancing in groups, just in couples, and I found myself weaving around on the dance floor among all the oblivious couples. If it had been a movie, everything would have been slow motion and there certainly would have been some sad song playing in the background. Soon afterward, I decided to leave, over the protests of my (tipsy) co-workers. One of my friends actually came running after me and was like, “Stay! You can drink, we can take a cab back later!” I begged off — it was sweet of her, but I was tired and done with the evening. I think maybe she was worried about me, and it would have taken too much effort to explain, “This isn’t fun, but it’s not the end of the world — I’d just rather be home in my PJs right now.”

I was talking to my college friend K. on the phone today — she is recently single after a long time on-again-off-again relationship with a guy who, in my opinion, sounded like no good. K. is one of the most spirited and outgoing, fun-loving people I know, so I think she’s a good single role model. I was talking to her about the fact that I love my girlfriends, but that most of them are married or pseudo-married and therefore not often available for or interested in girls’ nights or girls’ vacations. On Saturday night, after working a good chunk of the day, I felt like I wanted to go out. But I knew that my friends would be otherwise occupied with their men, so I opted for Netflix. To give a larger-scale example, I love to travel and would love to plan some little trips out of town, or bigger trips. But I can’t get anyone to go with me, either because they are saving time/money to travel with their BFs/spouses, or are saving money in general. Sometimes I feel like, what’s the use in working hard and making money if I don’t get to do the things I want to do? I was thinking about just saying screw it and taking a solo weekend trip in January, but I know myself and I’d probably just end up feeling sad and annoyed that I spent money to be in a different city alone – I can do that here!

Anyway, K. told me that when she was single a while ago, she started affirmatively trying to meet other single girls when she went out. I think maybe cultivating some new friendships would be a good thing for me…but then again, if I’m too busy at work to go out and meet new men, how am I going to meet new women? I guess it would be an interesting experiment to see which would be easier – finding a new guy, or finding a new girlfriend? Hmmm.

K. also told me something last time we talked that I really identify with. She said that she would be more fine with being single if she knew that she would eventually meet the right person. She wouldn’t need to know how or when – but just that she would meet him at some point. That’s sort of how I feel now. It’s not that being on my own is that bad day to day. But what bothers me is thinking that this could be how it is…indefinitely. I can bear being a little lonely now. I don’t know if I can bear this being the norm. I guess it’s all about attitude. Maybe I just need to buck up.

At any rate, dear readers, I hadn’t intended to write such a whiny post tonight! More sunny things next time, I swear…

Friends Don’t Let Friends Wear Boleros

This has been a fantastic weekend so far, dear readers, and I feel extremely content as I sit on the couch with my laptop, comfy in my favorite old college sweatshirt, Noodles on his new-favorite perch in the window looking out at the partly-sunny day. Friday night J. and I went to see American Gangster, which I highly recommend. Russell Crowe, who normally bugs me a little because of his offscreen, hot-shit persona (ok, women of America, scream in horror that I don’t adore him), plays a Jersey cop who is flawed and yet impossible not to root for. They definitely uglied him up for the role, too, with some pudge and clothes that included a blue Hawaiian shirt. And Denzel, as Frank Lucas was perfectly terrifying. Two thumbs up.

Then on Saturday night I went to see Wicked, which I thought was incredible. I had no idea till I got there that Knittikins had bought seats in the second row, but we were right in the action, and the singing and costuming were fantastic.

But the real highlight of the weekend was round 2 of wedding gown shopping with Knittikins. After round 1, in which she tried on some gorgeous gowns, she decided that a floor length gown with a train was just too– well, gowny for a backyard wedding whose menu will include ribs (I see her point), and she began suggesting that instead she might wear a “sundress.”

While I am ever the obedient, supportive friend/bridesmaid when the situation calls for it, Knittikins has admonished us that we have to use tough love with her and that, as she told her younger sister Adorable yesterday, we are charged with the responsibility of making sure she doesn’t wind up looking ugly on her wedding day. Now, I have no doubt in my mind that she will look beautiful, whether in a gown or a sundress or anything in between. (Knittikins — note that a T-shirt and khakis are NOT on the list of options. Ahem.) But in my mind, when one is hiring a professional photographer to capture the event for time immemorial, one wants to look as perfect as possible. And wedding gowns, beasts that the are, are structured in such a way that no matter how much you move and breathe and eat and laugh and dance and greet people, the dress supports you. So, to that end, I suggested to Knittikins that she try on some more casual and/or tea length gowns, rather than moving away from gowns entirely.

From there ensued a morning at Alfred Angelo, which is much more user-friendly and down-to-earth than the environment at Renee Strauss the prior weekend. While the Renee Strauss lady had seemed borderline-horrfied that we all wanted to sit around in the giant dressing area together, the AA lady had no qualms about letting Knittikins, Adorable and I squeeze into the tiny dressing room together with her. I was also allowed to wander around at my leisure, choosing out gowns for Knittikins to try on, which was fun. And best of all, unlike most bridal shops, AA lets you take pictures, so I was able to be the paparazzi (paparazzo? hmm) I love to be. Knittikins’ other sister, my best college friend/former roommate C., had to work, so we were able to take lots of photos to show her in anticipation of her going back with Knittikins soon. (C. informed Knittikins that, understandably, she would never forgive her if she bought a gown without C.)

There were some good choices — the best, in my opinion and Adorable’s, was a tea length strapless dress that gave Knittikins a tiny little waist and was just, for lack of a better word, so damn CUTE. We’ll see what she ultimately decides to do. But the biggest fashion disaster of the day, that took some definite tough love to steer Knittkins away from, was her inexplicable desire to ruin the gorgeous, simple strapless dress by wearing a bolero. I wish I could locate a photo of this, but you’ll just have to take my word for it. Long sleeved, heavy satin-y material (can we remind you that the wedding will be in June in the Valley?)…just unnecessary. Knittikins exclaimed, “But it’s so comfy! I feel like I’m wearing a T-shirt!” (Wearing a T-shirt on her wedding day is her deep-seated desire, that we will absolutely not allow.) As Adorable asked, “Why in the world would you want to Pretty In Pink your dress?” Aka, why take a pretty dress and mess it up? Well put.

Anyway, dear readers, I really want nothing more than for Knittikins to have her wedding exactly the way she always imagined it. And I will support her and help her do anything to achieve that vision.

Unless, of course, that vision includes a bolero…

Dating in L.A.: a Recap

Good evening, dear readers. In yesterday’s post I mentioned that I’ve been dating in L.A. for five years. (Actually, it’s almost 6 years. Even though I first moved to Southern California in 1998, I went to college in the Inland Empire (good ol’ I.E.) and I didn’t do any dating in L.A. proper until my senior year of college, after I turned 22. At any rate, I have been on my fair share of dates, and I thought that by way of background, as I embark on this round of dating, I’d fill you in on the people I’ve dated in the past. These, by the way, ranged from a single date to a 3 year relationship and everything in between.

1. First real L.A. guy I dated could not be more stereotypical L.A. My friends and I came out to L.A. to go out on the Sunset Strip and I met him at Miyagi’s (which, in my younger days, I used to love). He was from New York, an aspiring screenwriter, and lived in Hollywood in a tiny, messy 1 bedroom apartment. He was (shocker!) incredibly narcissistic. He wore — wait for it — white T shirts with the sleeves rolled up. Do you think my friends have stopped teasing me about this, six years later? Think again.

2. A guy who lived in Culver City with his mom and brother and drove a preposterously tricked out rice-rocket type car (he was a tall skinny white guy). On our second (and final) date we were hanging out at his condo (I think Mom was out of town) when his brother walked in with – guess who? – my date’s recent ex. I spent the next hour listening to my date tell all his friends on the phone what a bitch his ex was, and what a jerk his brother was.

3. A guy who was a few years older than me (probably 28 to my 22) and liked to repeatedly say “So is that what you kids are listening to/watching/etc these days?”

4. A guy I met through a friend, who when we first met, lived in a filthy fraternity house at UCLA. I frankly just wasn’t that into him, and this time it was me who pulled a disappearing act (after he had cooked me dinner at his new apartment, on a red and white checkered tablecloth no less.) Ouch! Can we say dating karma?

5. A guy who lived in Manhattan Beach and worked at Toyota and drove, lived and breathed Toyota. He was very cute, and I really liked him, but after 3 or 4 months of seeing each other I still didn’t feel much closer to him and it fizzled. Still, we had some truly fun dates — he always liked to try new restaurants.

6. A guy I went to law school with who told other people I was his girlfriend, but whose idea of a date was meeting up with each other at a bar. For my birthday that year (#23), he came along and played boyfriend and even gave me a pretty little necklace. Then, a week or so later, he dumped me — after we had just watched High Fidelity, no less. Unsurprisingly, given his vision of himself as a lawyer-slash-party boy, he now works at the fraternity of law firms. Oh and he is the infamous guy who made me pay $260 for my half of the meal.

7. An Australian guy who approached me in a coffee shop I used to study in, lived in a guest house in Bel Air, and whose claim to fame was one line in one action movie.

8. I guy I met on Friendster, went out with a few times until he dropped off the face of the earth. At the time I was confused and annoyed, but in hindsight, he WAS at least an inch shorter than me.

9. A friend of a college friend, who I emailed with at length, we knew each others’ life stories…but on our date we went to dinner and a billiards bar. He was uber competitive at pool, then looked over my head at the sports on TV all night. At the end, he realized he wasn’t over his ex.

10. A friend of a law school friend, who I had met previously when he was dating someone, and then we reconnected when we were both single. We went out a few times, but again, not over his ex. He was also very cute. Our mutual friend told me that I wasn’t really his “type” because his ex was a “big girl.” Well, within a year after things fizzled between us, he was dating a new girl…and my friends, looking at her picture online (they discovered this through the wonders of Myspace), declared her to be my twin.

After that I met my ex-fiance, we dated for 3 years, and I think you know, at least roughly, what has happened since! Has dating improved since I was 22? Well, I guess that remains to be seen, but given recent events, Little Miss Law’s Magic 8 Ball is reading “Outlook Not So Good.”

We’ll see, dear readers!

It’s My Job, And I’ll Whine if I Want To

After my panic attack at work a couple of weeks ago, I have still been incredibly busy, but somewhat more calm. (Perhaps it’s just that I’m too busy to do more than just try to keep my head above water? Hmm.) I am still considering all my life options, but since I know I’m not going to be moving jobs or cities in the immediate future, I can relax and just keep my mind and eyes open.

One thing keeping my feet planted is that a case I’m on is going to jury trial in March, and I’m excited about that, so I know I need to stick around till then. Perhaps the fact that I am so excited about the prospect of choosing a jury, using a jury consultant, etc means I should stay Little Miss Law after all?…

In any event, at times when I’m feeling very burnt out and uninspired, it helps to know that I’m not alone. In that vein, I was amused by an article in my favorite blawg today about a poll taken that revealed that associates at big law firms are actually happy, and the follow-up comments on the truthiness or not of this finding. I can’t try to do the article justice, but the comments to it are particularly entertaining (and, as is always the case on this particular blawg, very snarky. And we wonder why us lawyers aren’t more beloved).

The commenters, among other things, say that law firm associates who complain about their jobs are basically big ol’ whining babies, since they are getting paid outrageously to do a cushy job. One commenter said that associates who went straight from college into law school are the biggest whiners of all.

Sure, call me a whiner. That’s fine. At least I’m not alone.

This past weekend I spent time with my best friend M. for the last time before she moves to England! We had a fantastic time — went to the movies (is there anyone hotter than Clive Owen, particularly as a pirate?), she made me some of her organic cooking, we dressed up for Halloween and went out, and we went to Santa Barbara for the day. When we were in SB, we stopped at a cute coffee shop to get some chai and ask for directions since we went the wrong way on State Street. I looked around at the people on their laptops and I thought how much I would love to be a free lance writer, and have my laptop be my only office. Of course, I know what an uphill battle that would be, but it’s fun to imagine myself as the next Carrie Bradshaw. Dear readers, do you know anyone who has actually lived a seemingly farfetched dream?

And, to top this off before I head to bed, something to make me and my compatriots feel better about our jobs, a quote from a reader of the above article:

“As a Naval Officer I worked twice as hard and earned one third as much money as I do as a 1st year associate in BigLaw. They actually let me sit down here when I am doing my work at 2 in the morning. That makes me happy.”

Yes…it could definitely be worse. Hold on a moment while I scratch “Naval Officer” off my wish list.

Have a Happy Halloween, dear readers!

A Heartwarming Halloween Tale

The date is October 31, 2001.   The place is Beverly Hills, California.  Kids go door to door collecting Halloween candy.  All is right with the world.

 One resident of the neighborhood opens the door to see a person dressed as a ghost.  The ghost begins to reach under its costume and pull out an envelope.  The homeowner fears that it might be a gun.  The ghost extracts an envelope and chucks it at the homeowner.  “What is this?”  the homeowner cries.  “Summons!”  replies the ghost.

The homeowner, disbelieving the ghost and afraid (so soon after 9/11) that the envelope may contain Anthrax, slams the door on the ghost’s hand.  She then goes to the police department to get it checked out.

Result: sure enough, it’s a summons.

The homeowner sues for trespass and infliction of emotional distress.

The ghost / process server, who as it turns out is a little old lady, injured her hand and sues for battery.

Morals of the story:

1)  If someone comes to your door on Halloween with an envelope, you may want to consider that summons you’ve been evading.

2)  If you’re a process server, you may not want to dress up in a costume when you’re serving someone with summons.

Things to think about this Halloween season, dear readers.

“Nope, It’s Just Me and My Cat.”

It’s been a long Monday, but a good one. Still, I am happy to be home, in comfy clothes, Sex & the City on in the background (no, there’s no such thing as watching it too much), with Noodles on his new-favorite perch in front of the balcony, and blogging. Mmm.

Today I met with the in-house counsel for one of my firm’s big corporate clients, down at her hotel by the airport. She’s been traveling around like crazy and we haven’t had much time to talk about all the deadlines coming up or about case strategy in general, so it was good to sit face to face with her and discuss everything. Even better, it was a great chance for us to bond. I met her for the first time a few weeks ago at the client’s corporate headquarters, but since we were in the office, we had no chance to just chat. Tonight we were both a lot more relaxed and while we mostly stuck to business, we laughed a lot. She also gave me a huge compliment – she said that even though I’m a young associate, that she told my boss I’m “fabulous.” That was a nice boost after the way I felt about my job last week.

Then, we bonded over a very unlikely topic — our cats. She looked at her watch and commented, “Oh, I don’t want to keep you! Do you have kids?” “Nope,” I replied, “It’s just me and my cat.”

(Ironically — this was unplanned — I just came to the part in this Sex & the City episode where Miranda moves into her own condo and finds out that the woman who lived there before her died and the cat ate her face.)

Anyway, the client laughed and said, “Oh, you’re a young associate, they don’t give you time for anything but a cat!” She told me that she has two dogs and two cats, and can’t seem to stop adopting pets. Then, I was even able to give her advice that is probably far more sage than any legal advice I can dispense at this stage in my career: how to make your cat stop biting you.

This, dear readers, is why they pay me the big bucks.

That’s the thing about needs.

Sometimes when you get them met, you don’t need them anymore.

That’s one of my favorite Sex and the City quotes — from the episode where Carrie and Aidan have moved in together, she is feeling crowded and she tells him that she needs to shut the sheer curtain that separates the “bedroom” from the sitting area and have an hour to herself. He says ok, she shuts the curtain, and then five mintes later, just knowing that she could have that space if she needed it, she feels better and comes out to snuggle with him.

That is a bit how I feel today–having given myself permission to dream and percolate about changing jobs, moving cities, changing my life, I somehow feel more peaceful with my life as it is. I’m going to keep dreaming and planning and thinking about a change, but I know there’s no urgency–I can make those changes however and whenever I want, so I can live my life calmly in the meantime as I figure out my next step. Whew.

This weekend was exactly what the doctor ordered. On Friday night, I joined Knittkins, the sisters and the Baron for pizza, ice cream cake and a marathon game of Monopoly. That has always been one of my favorite games, but as an only child I was hard pressed to get my parents to play with me, and now I know why — it takes absolutely forever. We played until 12:30 am when all of us but Knittikins and The Baron had lost all our money and property, and then left them to play head-to-head.

Last night was my friend D.’s big gala, and I was very impressed by him and by the event. He stood up and gave some remarks, and he is so poised and well-spoken — practically presidential. He has done so much in the year that he’s been at his job. It’s interesting because we went to law school together and he has had his moments of feeling wistful that he’s not at a firm — but as I told him when I called him tonight, he is making a real difference in the community, and I think he should be so proud of himself. (Meanwhile, as I like to say, I’m saving the world…one real estate developer at a time.)

To wind down the weekend, Knittikins and I went to get massages today. It was fantastic. I carry a ridiculous amount of tension in my shoulders and upper back, and so massages are normally not so relaxing for me, since I spend the better part of them wincing in pain. The woman today, though, used a great technique where she stretched and pulled on my arms and legs…it was like lazy girl’s yoga. I could get used to that!

Tomorrow begins another week … I am reciting a mantra to try to keep from sliding back into panic mode. Onward and upward, dear readers!

Leaving Los Angeles

Today has been one of those glorious fall days in L.A. Sunny, warm, with a cool breeze, everything washed in a soft glow. I walked up to the corner coffee shop to get an iced chai, and walking back down my street I felt peaceful and calm….a feeling that has been increasingly rare these days.

At the same time, I was hit with an overwhelming feeling: I’m going to leave Los Angeles.

Just as my mom suggested, I have been pondering what I want my life to look like. And what does my ideal life look like? Well … let’s just say, a lot quieter than my current one. Less driving, less stress, less intensity. More tranquility, more being outdoors, more greenery, maybe my own little house with a yard and a dog.

Crazy? Perhaps.

It’s interesting because whenever I have imagined moving, I have always pictured moving to another city. I’ve felt that I’m so accustomed to city life that I would never want to leave it. I’ve loved the constant hustle and bustle, the endless restaurants and bars and hotspots, always new things to do and new people to meet.

But maybe that, exactly that, is part of what I’m hoping to leave behind.

Or maybe I really would get stir crazy in a small town.

When I think of making a big life change, the number one thing that distresses me is not so much leaving my job — that would be hard and I love the people there, but there will be other jobs — but I can’t imagine leaving my friends. I know that as people get older, friendships change. But the people who have become my friends in L.A. are more than my friends; they’re my family when my own flesh-and-blood family is a state away. And what if my fantasy of starting over somewhere new would, in reality, be an incredibly lonely mistake?

My best chlldhood friend, M., has always followed her heart and her dreams. She started in Oregon like me; spent some time in Colorado; back to Oregon; San Francisco; New York for a few years, working as a restaurant hostess and then a legal secretary while pursuing an acting career; New Mexico; and now she is moving to England with her new husband. She has had, of course, her fair share of ups and downs, but she has lived such an interesting, passionate and varied life. Sometimes I wonder — should I take a page out of her book and dive headfirst into a life change, or am I too eminently practical for something like that?

I’m off to get ready for my friend D.’s big gala event tonight. Till next time, dear readers, the soul searching continues!

Bloggity Bloggity

Apropos of nothing: is there a cuter TV couple than Jim and Pam on The Office? Yes, I know, how very 2 years ago. And yes, I know that in real life, John Krasinski is rumored to be somewhat of an ass. (Stop breaking my heart!) But I was just watching them quip with each other and laugh together in that sweet way and it made me smile. Shmoop, shmoop.

After a rough night last night in which I had the worst stomach pain I’ve ever had (once the pain eased up, I pulled the classic and ill-advised move of Googling my own symptoms, and I even called Knittikins and asked her what her appendicitis felt like), and a rough day in which I had to shlep up to court in Glendale still feeling icky, I am now feeling more like myself. I have almost survived to the end of the week and, more importantly, I am beginning to put things into perspective. It’s easy to get bogged down with the details of my job and forget to see the overall picture of my life and all the choices I have, so getting to step back is a very nice thing.

A couple of words on my court appearance in Glendale. First of all, Glendale might as well be Egypt for as long as it took to get back from there. Coming up on the 405 interchange from the 101, I saw a hideous lineup of cars, and thought, Ah ha! I’ll beat all these suckers by getting off the freeway, making my way down to Ventura, cutting back to Beverly Glen and taking that over the hill and right back to the office. Of course, everyone else had the same genius idea….

Anyway, what really struck me about my time in Glendale is how much power judges really have over their cases. By way of background, in L.A. there is a mediation program in the superior court system. Mediators volunteer ther time, parties don’t have to pay for it, and mediation is all but mandatory. This case I appeared for today isn’t one I have worked on, but both the partner and the associate were on international vacations (lucky ducks) so I got to take one for the team. It went something like this:

Judge: How do the parties feel about mediation?
Little Miss Law: Well, your Honor, we have explained all of the ADR options to our client, and she isn’t interested in pursuing mediation at this time.
Judge: Ok.
(pause; Little Miss Law breathes an internal sigh of relief.)
Judge: But, that really isn’t up to her. I’m referring the case to mediation. So go downstairs and pick a mediator.

Al righty then!

This weekend promises to be fun and relaxing — a mellow birthday celebration with Knittikins, the sisters and the Baron tomorrow; my friend D.’s big gala on Saturday night (finally, another chance to wear the gorgeous dress I bought for my firm’s holiday party last year!) and on Sunday, a wind-down with Knittikins at Burke Williams. Exactly what I need…ahhh.

I’m also planning on ordering one of the many books about legal and nonlegal career options for lawyers, and I welcome any inspiring ideas from you, dear readers!

Beatles, Bonsai Trees and more Blogginess

Today in Los Angeles, dear readers, felt like the beginning of winter, with all its damp chilly fogginess. I wore my favorite chunky sweater to fend off the cold, and I confess that right about 3 pm (siesta time), I took advantage of having my own office, put my head down and took a 15 minute nap. (I woke up with a small sleep line on my face and a dead arm, but it sure helped me get through the rest of the day!)

This weekend was very pleasant — I got to catch up with several of my friends, catch up on my movie watching, and catch up on my sleep. Best of all, I spent not a single moment doing work! Yesterday I saw Across the Universe, which I am now recommending to everybody I know–and not just because I am now a little in love with Jim Sturgess (which I am). The music is (of course) fantastic, the visuals are adventurous and creative, and the acting is quite good. All in all, it was a ver enjoyable 2 1/2 hours. Warnings: if you cannot handle the extreme cheeziness inherent in musicals, you should take a pass — since this one takes that to a whole new level (aka, a musical set to Beatles music whose main characters are named Jude and Lucy. No, not kidding.)

In other news, my new favorite blawg, Above the Law, keeps reporting (not once, not twice, but three times now) about Sullivan & Cromwell sending bonsai trees to the summer associates it’s recruiting. Now, I may be biased in favor of my firm, and it may be because I am capable of killing any kind of plant imaginable (Noodles survives only because he can meow), but I think that my firm gave the best recruiting gift I received or heard of: a big, gorgeous muffin basket. I distinctly remember when the basket arrived and my then-roommates’ eyes lit up with the realization that my interviewing was to their benefit. (We also received a tin of cookies from a competing firm and a couple of mugs that I still use. I tried to hold out longer to see if maybe I’d get hooked up with some fancy gadgets, but no such luck.)

Noodles is by my side, begging me to put down the computer and relax. Till tomorrow, dear readers, keep warm!