One down

The World Series started last night (apologies to those of you who were aching to watch Glee), and though I started out feeling sort of tired and cranky, the game brought up my spirits. I'll refrain from singing baseball's praises again, lest I start to get as annoying as a new religious convert.

But I just love this video of Cliff Lee, who was freaking amazing last night with no earned runs. And of course this delightful behind-the-back catch.

Gay boys

Overheard in the lobby of my apartment building:

Guy 1: So did you make it to the race last night?

Guy 2: What race?

Guy 1: The high heel race in Dupont.

Guy 2: (Laughs) No, that's not really my thing. You?

Guy 1: Yeah. I mean, to watch. I didn't participate.

Guy 2: Anything exciting? Did anybody fall?

Guy 1: No. And I even got a spot next to the crosswalk where the paint makes it slippery when it rains. Nothing.

Missing the babe

The babe is away for a funeral.


This morning I got up and ate breakfast, did some schoolwork, got dressed and put on makeup, got my books and lunch together, and headed out to school.


I was at the elevator before I realized I was still wearing my slippers.

Towards becoming an overwork atheist

The other day during class, I took out a container of the vegetable fried rice that the babe and I made the night before for dinner and started to eat it. The girl I sit next to turned to me and asked "how do you have time to cook?"

It was more an accusation than a question.

My initial thought was "how would I not have time to cook?" I mean, I have to eat.

What I said: "I just don't do other things."

I don't pretend that I never have those feelings of anger or jealousy when I see that someone else seems to have time for the things that I miss - for crafting or reading or being a member of a choir - all those things that I feel like I've left behind since law school.

It's made me think about a passage from Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle:

"Overwork actually has major cachet in a society whose holy trinity is efficiency, productivity, and material acquisition. Complaining about it is the modern equivalent of public prayer."

As miserable as I can get about law school, the truth is that what I do or don't do is the result of my own choices. I choose to cook, and the result is that sometimes I don't do other things. Those other things may be homework; they may be hanging out with friends; they may be sleeping an extra hour; sometimes, it's bathing. (Yes, I'm putting that out there.) The reality is that there are only 24 hours in a day, and I make choices about how to spend them.

I am tired of participating in the ritual complaining. And I'm tired of feeling guilty in the moments where I make the choice to do something nurturing instead of reveling in self-pity at my own "overwork."

There are so many people in the world who are truly overworked, who truly cannot find time to sleep or nurture themselves because they barely have enough time to make enough to house themselves and their families. There are those who work multiple jobs just to eat. And yet, I don't think those are the people complaining. They don't have time.

I complain - a law student with a beautiful apartment, classes four days a week, a job ready for me after graduation, a wonderful girlfriend, and weekly meals that include fresh meat from the local farmers market. Though it may come across as such, I’m not interested here in self-flagellation. I'm not alone in my behavior, and I don't feel the need to condemn myself for it.

What I do want is to recognize reality and give myself permission to walk away from the overwork dogma and the requisite complaining that goes along with it.

I'm sure in the weeks and months to come, you'll find complaints on this blog - I'm human, after all. But I hope that sometimes in the midst of my complaining, I'll remember back to this post and relax a bit.

Skip to Friday

Lolcats, you speak to me.

You make me smile

And cheer.

And feel totally enthralled by something outside myself and law school.

And I love you for it.

Six weeks...

until finals.

Elation.

Terror.

Getting it wrong

Perfectionism is killing my blog.

I can't seem to write anything because I'm too busy planning what I'm going to write and what pictures I'm going to post along with it and how it's going to be the most brilliant/funniest/most profound/most awe-inspiring thing I've ever written.

Lame.

Or I can't write because I'm berating myself for not having kept up with other people's blogs.

Or I can't write because I'm trying to finish the reading for my next class. That doesn't involve cold-calling. And I'm a 3L. And I already have a job.

What the hell is going on here?!


In other news:

I was at a wedding in Vermont this weekend. Vermont calls to me so loudly my heart breaks a little bit every time I leave. Of course, it's frickin' cold there.

I'm trying to stop online shopping - and by "shopping," I mean online window shopping. It doesn't make me happy; it just makes me want things.

There was an older lesbian couple at this wedding we went to, and they were totally into each other and danced almost the whole night. The babe thinks they've recently gotten together, and that's why they're all hot for each other. I think they've been together for a long time, but they love weddings because it makes them feel young and in love again. Evidence for my position = they were wearing matching outfits. Not like matching-matching but the same colors. We're going to check with the bride later and find out who was right.

If that's not a not-perfect blog, I don't know what is.

Tis the season

This is pretty much what the babe looks like.





Maybe a little less furry.

She's got something.

The flu?

A really bad cold?

A sinus infection?

The plague?


It's ugly whatever it is, and it is not appreciated here.

Weekend Yummies

The Babe and I have been talking about picking raspberries all summer, and we finally made it out yesterday to two local farms to pick some apples and raspberries. It was a gorgeous day, and we had a wonderful time.

And behold some of the fruits of our labor





Yum.

We froze a bunch of raspberries, and we'll freeze some apples.

But first I made a DELICIOUS apple raspberry cobbler.



Just look at that yummy goodness.

Here's the recipe - adapted from my mama's peach cobber recipe.

Quick note - the babe has some dietary restrictions, so there may be some ingredients in here that you're not familiar with. If you're feeling bold, you can try them out. But if not, you can stick with the old standards.

Ingredients:

3 large apples or 5 small apples
1 pint raspberries
1 cup xylitol (or 1 cup sugar)
3/4 cup spelt flour (or 3/4 cup all-purpose flour)
3/4 cup soymilk (or 1 cup regular milk)
1 stick butter or margarine
2 tsp baking powder

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Peel and core the apple and cut into chunks. I used an apple corer for mine and then just cut each piece into 3 pieces. Put the chunks into a microwave-safe bowl and microwave for about 6-7 minutes or until the apples are somewhat soft and some juice has developed in the bottom of the bowl. Set aside.

Melt the butter/margarine in a 9 x 9 baking dish in the microwave. In a separate bowl, mix the flour, xylitol, soymilk, and baking powder. Pour into the melted butter. DO NOT STIR. Next pour in the apples and then the raspberries. Again, do not stir.

Bake uncovered for approximately one hour. Yummy when served with ice cream or soy ice cream!