The version of me born in 1948 is so jealous...

I promise I will get to the rally and Halloween (as soon as I get the photos off my camera), but first . . . Patti Boyd.
One of my friends was looking at my iPod and as a result of my tastes being very hip for someone in the 1970's recommended Patti Boyd's biography to me. I don't know if I am going to be able to finish it. Not that it isn't an amazing story. It is just to frustrating to read, it is making me simultaneously jealous and disheartened.
For anyone who doesn't know Patti Boyd is the ex-wife of George Harrison and Eric Clapton. She is the inspiration for among other songs: Layla, Bell Bottom Blues, Something oh and Wonderful tonight.
Layla- the song I love so much it was my vote for my best friend to name her daughter, and the name she ultimately chose.
Bell Bottom Blues- My favorite modern blues song, my favorite Clapton song.
Something- The song Rolling Stone called it the most romantic song ever written.
And of course Wonderful Tonight- Only one of my top five songs (it is in a separate category from my favorites stratified by artist, because I don't think it exemplifies Clapton's style or playing the way most do.) Also what I would consider to be the most romantic song ever written. It is a song I often use to exemplify what women want, it is to be made to feel like that, to be seen the way she is seen in that song. That the man we are with sees us as more beautiful than we think we are, needs us more than we can see and loves us more than we know. (And by the way it was written as they were getting ready to go to Paul and Linda McCartney's Buddy Holly party.)
I really don't feel like this is fair at all, what I wouldn't give for just one amazing love song to be written about me, and she has at least a half dozen.Then the worst part is as you read you get all the horrible rock and roll wife stories that taint the way I see these songs.
Honestly I am waiting to find out that Beast of Burden (what I consider to be the sexiest song ever written) was inspired by a sub-par one night stand with Keith Richards and I will really throw the book down.

It's going to be okay...

One of the buildings on Berkeley's campus, in addition to being maze-like was famous for its bathroom graffiti. Most of the year it would vary from funny to dirty, with lots of complaining and many of the jokes that we have all seen. People would post their thoughts and others would respond. But then some time around finals a single message in a distinctive hand writing would go up all over the stalls in the hall:

Its going to be okay...

I remember before my first final at Cal (History 5 with professor Lacquor, I still remember) running to the bathroom, to be sure I wouldn't have to during the exam, and there was this message. And what was most amazing; in a past time that was as much about snarky remarks belittling the author, the responses showed how venerable and overwhelmed we all were. "Thank you" "this means a lot" "that actually really helps" "I hope you are right," were all scrawled next to it. I carried that with me as often as I could and always looked forward to when the graffiti would appear each December and May.   

Fast forward four years and I hear about operation beautiful, a group that places messages on post-it in womens bathrooms that are inspirational, and uplifting. While they are more focused on young women's body image issues, it reminded me of the finals message on Berkeley's stalls and what unexpected positive messages can do. 

So in a tribute to my Berkeley roots and the desire to put some positivity in the world I have Co-opted my own little project. I have taken the free (or as my mother would say included because you know at $46,000 a year I am paying for them) Post-its they leave for us in the library and posting positive messages in the womens bathrooms. Some are taken from operation beautiful, and I use "its going to be okay" frequently but I am sure I will think of new things. This isn't nearly as hip as the Berkeley bathroom graffiti but I am on the East Coast and I doubt school would appreciate its impeccably clean bathrooms being sullied even by positive words. 

Hopefully I will brighten someone's day. 

Hey I got an A on that History final.   

 

One more week...

So dip girl leaves for Cambodia on Saturday. So in between freaking out and trying to get another brief written, I am trying to pack in as much fun with her as possible. Saturday was wonderful, well other than the epic loss by the my Cal bears. (We had to leave sign of the whale early because it was so miserable, but hey at least the bar did free drinks for the first quarter so it wasn't a total loss. And we all know how much faith I have in my bay area teams.) After the game Dip Girl got to meet Hotlanta- we went out to a farm in Virgina where they had a haunted corn maze, spooky hay ride and many other frightful activities. It was amazing. Each of us had our moments screaming like a girl. Including Hotlanta who after a particularly girlish scream said "what does it look like I was a line-backer in high school?" Which was far and away the quote of the night. It was more fun than the haunted houses I would go to back home with my friends, and Dip Girl and I decided that this was because in California there are a surplus of out of work actors who play monsters and take their jobs way to seriously. The high schoolers who staffed this didn't have quite the same drive. We also bought pumpkins and apples and apple cider. (The cider is currently frozen for Halloween when it will be heated and made into some sort of yummy cocktail!)
Sunday we went to brunch at Cafe Belga which has been Dip Girl and my favorite place for brunch since we lived on the hill a few summers ago. It is more of a trek now so we don't get out there as much but Dip Girl figured there won't be much good Belgium food in Cambodia. We stuffed ourselves on mussels, french fries and waffles and then had to be rolled out of the restaurant we were so full.
Then yesterday was the amazing meal of mole and margaritas (I really don't think there is anything better). Once again we ate so much we had to be rolled out of the restaurant, and enjoyed the crisp walk to metro. (Not the ride so much)
Tonight I am laying claim to all the food she couldn't finish before she left.
Tomorrow I am dragging her out dancing.
Friday the movers come to pack away her stuff, and I am joining her so that it is less weird. (When the US government moves you their movers have to box everything for you so they know you aren't taking anything illegal or just that you aren't supposed to move on government money, but you have to watch them so that packing is done how you want, it is very strange and slightly awkward.)
Then Saturday bright and early she leaves and I start getting ready for exams!

Why did I wear jeans? Jeans have no give!

Dip girl is leaving in less than a week and because of this we are filling the week up. (More on that when I have a moment.) But tonight we went out to an amazing restaurant in Adams Morgan, Casa Oaxaca and ate and drank for hours. I made the mistake of wearing tight 501's. At the time I regretted it but now I am excited about my lunch tomorrow so I guess it was a good thing.     

Joey in one of my all time favorite friend's episodes wearing maternity pants for thanksgiving
not the worst idea 

Oh Giants how I love thee...but its a good thing I am a bit of a masochist.

Honestly there is a reason the Folsom Street Fair has such a welcoming audience in San Fransisco; Bay Area residents have been enjoying the torture of Giants baseball for five decades. 

 I love baseball, I was raised on Giants baseball. My father has been a fan since they moved to San Fransisco. I know that if I ever wanted to break my fathers heart (or kill him) all I would have to do is come home in the blue and white of the dreaded dodgers.I don't have a TV and I was going to avoid the pain that is Giants' baseball, just keep track of playoffs on the periphery. I knew it was best to stay away lest it suck me in like an all to tempting drug whose high is not worth the pain as you come down. Then last night's Bar Review (the clever pun for our weekly law school "social" gathering) was at a sports bar... I walk in and I am surrounded by the Giants/Braves game. And Tim Lincecum was doing an amazing job pitching despite the lack of support from the lineup. (14 Strike out, shut out, full game pitched thank you very much. I am a little in love with him, if only he would stop with the chew, gross.) So I watched  the game rather than meet people or be social. I squealed, I pounded on the table I groaned. To which my East Coast gay Best Friend (here after dubbed "hotlanta"- it is a long story mostly based on his being from Atlanta) cheekily pointed at me and said "what is this, who are you, what is going on? I haven't seen this side of you and I don't like it."
Needless to say I was hooked. I wore my jersey today, I searched out a place to watch the game, and awkwardly sat at a prime booth for hours. Only to be let down. We were ahead by four runs and lost it. We had the bases loaded and did nothing with it. And now we have to go to Atlanta tied in the series. But, because there is always hope, I leave with this...

Yep that is Tim Lincecum with his dog Cy...
(we would be getting married if not for his chew habit.)
Photograph © Black Oak French Bulldogs

 

Sometimes you're the rocket powered roller skate and sometimes your'e Wile E.

In a lot of ways this is the most important lesson I have learned from law school.

         Some days are rocket days, days when you move fast and understand everything, days when you feel on top of the world. Days when you are cold called in contracts to brief one of the more difficult cases of the semester and do well enough to earn a compliment from your professor. Days when you go faster and further than you ever thought you would. Sure maybe you are a little wobbly but you are going to get there with or without the weight of the coyote on your back.  Some days are Wile E. days, days when no matter what happens your acme shipment is just a little late and a bit defective. Days when you let just a little bit too much of your self slip into your case assessment or confuse a citing rule and mess up a document.    

The worst part is that those days are often the days that the morning dawned bright and the box looked undamaged. You strapped your skates on and felt particularly certain that this was going to be the day you finally caught Roadrunner. But no, the cards are not in your favor, the cartoonist (or law school gods) are not going along with your plan and ultimately you fall, left with the sting of rocket propelled road-burn. The crash all the more painful because of your pride and confidence, and because you so badly want that stupid bird. It has been a Wile E. kind of week. (It is never good when I am so strung up that I leave the house for school at 6:30 because I was unable to sleep, and anyone who knows me know I can sleep in.)  

          All of that hurts, but the important lesson is perspective. Each class, reading, grade, organization, even diploma is not the Roadrunner . Those are merely steps, landscapes, acme products along the way. And it is those things that are important and must be enjoyed, the Roadrunner is about constantly striving for more. And like roadrunner cartoons, when you have been flattened down by one too many anvil, and you're missing your feet because your rocket shoes blew up, its okay because this is the time to make mistakes, there is no client on the line; I don't risk a malpractice suit if I mess up. And hopefully, unlike Wile E., I will learn from my mistakes and not get the rocket powered roller skates again. (There is a whole acme catalog to try!) 

Thththats alll folks...

(Okay I look the Loony Toons analogy bit far didn't I?)