Happy Couples

Ever notice how some couples just look like each other?  I'm sitting at a local Starbucks studying for my upcoming finals, and I just can't help but notice how the couple across the room kind of look like each other.  At first glance, they're really nothing alike -- she's got long blond hair, he's got close-cropped jet-black hair; she's dressed rather stylishly, he looks like he's about to go mow the lawn; she's rather petite, he's not.

But look a little closer and you'll see it, and I'm not talking about the matching coffee cups sitting in front of them.  It's not just the matching wedding rings, but the matching cell phones sitting on the table.  They have the same Mac computer and the same laptop bag.  They're both sitting in the same position.  They're even wearing the same sandals, which somehow manage to match both their outfits.  They even have the same worried/bored look on their faces.  Makes me wonder if they're looking at the same website.

Cold Front

This week marks the beginning of finals.  What this means is that law students are stressed, cranky, and just plain tired.  Soon, many will resort to surviving off of coffee and Red Bull, though hopefully not together.

My official finals preparation began yesterday, and I thought I was doing pretty well.  I slept in and got some extra rest.  I worked on two different subjects so I wouldn't get burned out.  I called it quits relatively early.  I even went home and treated myself to homemade brownies.  I didn't feel stressed or cranky or overly tired.  Overall, I thought Day 1 was a big success.  But since a successful day would be boring and I probably wouldn't write about it, obviously I was wrong.

When I got home, I noticed the house was a little chilly.  I adjusted the thermostat and forgot about it.  I had a very late dinner and then some brownies.  About 30 minutes later I noticed that I was still pretty cold, but I figured it was just because of the cold milk I had had with the brownies.  I grabbed a sweatshirt and forgot about it, again.  About an hour later, I decided it was time for bed.  I was still cold, but I figured I was just tired.  I grabbed some warm jammies (including long sleeves), adjusted the thermostat again, and crawled into bed.

I woke up around 4:00 am, freezing cold and shivering.  "Great," I thought.  "I'm getting sick.  Just what I need for finals."  I got up and adjusted the thermostat one more time, put on the sweatshirt I had been wearing earlier, and grabbed an extra blanket.  I crawled back into bed and fell back asleep.  Even with the extra blanket, I woke shivering the following morning.  I got out of bed and checked the thermostat -- it was 15 degrees colder than normal!  I had been turning the temperature control the wrong direction all night!! 

I learned two very important lessons from this experience.  First, don't mess with the thermostat when you're tired.  Second, apparently only so much information can fit into my brain.  When I added the additional law school information, it crowded out some of the already existing knowledge, like how to work a thermostat.  What this means is if you need to know anything about the rules of professional conduct for lawyers, give me a call.  However, if you need help adjusting the temperature in your house, you'll need to call someone else.

Gentlemen

Twice yesterday and once today, I was pleasantly surprised when a man held a door open for me.  I'm not talking about keep-the-door-from-slamming-the-person-behind-you-in-the-face type of holding the door.  I'm talking about actually holding a door open for a woman.  I'm talking about when a man is walking into a building, sees you coming from the other direction, steps back out of the door and holds it open (from the outside) while waiting for you to get there.  I'm talking about when you're about to get to a door when it's suddenly being held open for you by the man who was ten feet behind you only two seconds ago.

I think I noticed because it just doesn't seem to happen as much as it used to.  Are there not as many gentlemen as there used to be?  Do men not do gentlemanly things because they think women will be offended?  Or is it just because I'm surrounded by stressed out students 99% of the time?  Whatever the reason, it just makes me wonder what happened to all the gentlemen of the world?  I miss them.

Tortilla Disaster

I've been craving flour tortillas lately.  If anyone has ever had my mom's flour tortillas, you know that store-bought just won't do.  And since my mom doesn't live anywhere near me, that meant I was going to have to make them myself.  Years ago, my mom gave me a recipe that worked perfectly. Somewhere along the way, I lost that perfect recipe.  I could easily call my mom and ask her for it again.  She's been making these tortillas forever, but since she never measures anything, making it into a recipe isn't the easiest thing for her.  But I called her anyway and she gave me the general proportions.

Like most daughters, I've inherited quite a bit from my mom.  One of these inherited traits is the inability to measure anything before throwing it into a pan or bowl.  Ok, so maybe it's not an inability; it's more like an aversion.  Either way, I didn't measure anything.

I knew almost immediately that something was wrong.  Although the dough looked and felt right, the tortillas didn't seem to be cooking up right.  I assumed it was the stove -- I've always cooked on a gas stove and my place has an electric stove.  I assumed I just had the temperature wrong.  But that wasn't it.  My house just didn't smell like my mom's does when she's making tortillas.  That "home" smell was just missing.  I made a few before tasting one, and it definitely disappointed.  I didn't bother making the rest of the dough.

On the up side, sprinkle a bit of cinnamon and sugar on them and they're not half bad.  They have a pie crust quality to them so I'm sure I can find a few other things to sprinkle on them and enjoy.  Tomorrow I'll try measuring.

Wanted: Used Brain in Mint Condition

Ever have one of those days where it just seems like your brain has decided to take the day off?  Well, I've just had a weekend full.  Allow me to share.

I have to be in class by 10:00 on Thursday mornings.  Last Thursday, for some reason I thought I didn't have to be there until 10:30.  It's not the beginning of a semester and I haven't had a sudden class change or anything, I just wasn't thinking straight.  I was taking my sweet time getting ready, eating breakfast, etc.  At about 10:10, it finally hit me.  Oops! 

So what did I do?  Like any typical grad student, I decided to skip.  No, I decided to go to class.  I grabbed my keys and cell phone and walked out the door.  I got about 5 steps away when I realized I was forgetting something -- my purse.  I run back inside and grab my purse.  This time I get all the way to the car before realizing I was forgetting something else -- my backpack.  I run back inside again and grab my backpack.  Luckily my laptop and books were already in it or I would have had to make another trip back. 

I made it through the rest of the morning without any further incidents, but things did not get better that afternoon and early evening.  First, I had to get my taxes done and sent off.  I downloaded the forms and got them filled out with no problem, except it took a lot longer than I expected.  By the time I finished, I only had a few minutes to get to the post office.  And I don't have a printer.  So off to school I go. 

I get to school and send the forms to the printer.  Unfortunately, printing at the school is not free, and the printers don't take cash.  And of course, I left my print card at home.  I ask if anyone in the computer lab would mind if I borrowed their card (after I put money on it of course) and someone says yes.  I get the forms printed and since it's now after 6:00 and my post office is closed, I Google the nearest post office staying open late.  That's when I realize that I don't have a pen or pencil to write down the directions.  I could have sent them to the printer, but since I was already using someone else's card, and they wouldn't take any money, I felt kind of bad about doing that.  So I borrowed a pencil and wrote down the directions.  It's now 6:20 and all I have to do is make it to the post office by midnight. 

As I'm gathering my things, I realize I don't have an envelope.  I quickly head down to the bookstore hoping they didn't close at 6:00.  I got lucky on this one and they don't close until 6:30.  Now I'm set, except I still don't have a pen to address the envelope.  I ran into a couple of friends outside the bookstore and we chatted for a minute or 30 before I tell them I really have to go. 

I head downstairs (completely forgetting about needing a pen) and I'm about to head out the door when I notice the blank envelope in my hand.  There are quite a few offices downstairs; one of them has to be open, right?  Well, it's almost 7:00 by now, so no.  For some reason, the financial aid office was still open (I think the receptionist was checking her email) and I slip in there and borrow a pen.  Now I'm set.   Factor in the traffic and long lines, and it's almost 8:00 by the time I get my taxes mailed.  That's about the time I realize that I haven't eaten anything since noon, and I'm starving.  And I have less than 30 minutes to get home, eat, change, and leave for my softball game.

In the end, the day turned out ok -- I only missed 20 minutes of my first class, I got my taxes mailed, I finally got some food, and I made it to the game on time.  But I think it started a weekend of braindeadness.  I won't get into everything that I managed to do wrong this weekend, but my braindeadness finally ended today when I walked out of the gym and started walking straight towards that black Mitsubishi Eclipse.  I don't drive an Eclipse.  I used to a long time ago, but it wasn't black.  Now I drive an SUV, and it doesn't really look like an Eclipse.  I can't wait for Monday to get here.

Tax Day

Sometimes I really don't like Uncle Sam.  In fact, sometimes I want to disown Uncle Sam.  Today is tax day, and I haven't done my taxes yet.  Technically, I have done my taxes, I just haven't filed them yet.

Like most people (or at least most people in my generation), I file electronically.  However, this year I'm actually going to use snail mail.  Why?  Because it's going to cost me $80 to get a $16 refund if I file electronically.  I'm no math whiz, but that just doesn't seem to be the smartest choice.  And that's why I haven't gotten around to filing yet -- I'm just too lazy to get the forms and fill them out.

On the other hand, I think I made the right choice by going to law school.  It seems like a lot of law students are not math whizzes either.  Earlier this week I sold a used text book for $32 plus $18 for next-day shipping.  This same book cost me $37 new and it's available at most national bookstores like B&N or Borders for about the same price.  Apparently the buyer isn't much of a math whiz either.

TV Guide

I stopped reading TV Guide many, many years ago, but have found myself checking it online quite regularly since moving to FTW.  Apparently they've gotten a few new writers.  I've noticed a few changes in their style, especially the movie descriptions.  They used to just give a quick description of the film, but now they've added a little something extra.  Here are actual descriptions for some of the movies playing this weekend:

• Suspenseful and well-acted, but occassionally defies logic.
• Family-friendly but forgettable.
• Implausible but exciting.
• Dizzying martial-arts action and car chases can't make up for an incoherent plot.

When did Siskel and Ebert start working for TV Guide?  Actually, it makes me wonder whether they got that information from movie reviewers, or if someone was just having a bad day and took it out on innocent movies.

Play Ball!!

Some of my fondest memories from when I was growing up are the days I spent playing with my brothers.  I remember one summer in particular when I was about 9 or 10 years old where it seemed like we played baseball every day.  The previous spring, I played had softball for the first time.  I was bad.  And when I say I was bad, I mean I was bad.  I was the right fielder and last batter on a mediocre team, and that was when they let me play.  It was slow-pitch softball, and I couldn't hit the ball if my life depended on it.  I couldn't catch anything either, even if it rolled right to me.  If my family was embarrassed, they didn't show it.  At that age, I didn't really care how bad I was; all I knew was that I was having fun.

That summer was the summer of baseball, or at least that's how I remember it.  There were soccer field right by our house, and we used to head down there with the neighborhood kids.  There were no bases, no backstop, no infield, nothing.....just a big wide open field.  The number of bases (usually gloves) was determined by the number of kids playing that particular day.  If I remember correctly, it was usually two bases and home plate (also a glove).  Since we didn't have enough kids for full teams, we had random rules, like if you hit it past the group of three trees it was a double and if you hit it past the backstop at the other end it was a homerun; things like that. 

That was the summer my older brother taught me to play baseball.  I don't know if he remembers or not, but it's something I'll never forget.  He would give me little pointers, like showing me how to hold the bat, or telling me how to hold the glove if the ball was coming a particular way.  Little by little, I got better.  He never criticize, he never teased. 

Looking back now, I can't believe how lucky I was to have a brother like that who was always looking out for me.  I didn't mention that I was the only girl playing baseball that summer.  I don't know if the boys let me play with them because they didn't think about it or because my brothers made them.  Like I said, I was bad.  And boys don't usually like girls playing with them when they can't play.  I'm also amazed at how he taught me.  He never once embarrassed me or made fun of me, he never once told me I couldn't do something; he just gave me little tips along the way, small enough so I wouldn't feel overwhelmed, big enough to make a difference.  The following spring, I was the shortstop on my softball team, a team that finished in second place.

I only played one more year of softball as a kid before moving on to other sports.  As an adult, I've played on various co-ed teams over the years.  I recently joined a team with my law school classmates.  I hadn't played in about 5 years so I'm a bit rusty, but thanks to the fundamentals that my brother showed me all those years ago, I can hold my own.  Last week was our first game, and I managed to hit a homerun.  I'd like to think he would have been proud.  This week was our second game, and I managed to strike out.  I'd like to think he would have laughed.

Shoes, Shoes, and More Shoes

I have a habit of leaving my shoes wherever I happen to take them off, usually the living room.  It wouldn't be so bad if I only did it at my house, but I pretty much do it everywhere I go, and I have a lot of shoes.  My mom tells me she can always tell when I'm at her house because there's always a pair lying around.  My brother teases me that I'm marking my territory.  I've never thought it was that bad, until I noticed just how many shoes were in my living room.  I lined them up and snapped this picture this morning.

I put all my shoes in the closet Tuesday night, so this is what has accumulated since then.  And as I'm writing this, I just noticed that I missed a pair under the table in the dining room.  I'm wondering how many pairs would end up in the living room if I didn't allow myself to wear the pairs I left lying around.

Furry Friends

Here's an interesting picture a friend posted on her Facebook.  These furry friends were spotted in Downtown Fort Worth, among other areas.

And yes, that is a rat on a cat on a dog.   And yes, they're all alive.  I wonder how long it took to train the animals to do this, and more importantly, why?