It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times ...

Cliche, yet so very true.

The year started out great, with the birth of our sweet, adorable, goofy baby girl. I relished my time away from the office on maternity leave. What could be better than a steady schedule of baby snuggles, bad tv, shopping, and never having to set the alarm? I spent a lot of time with family and friends I usually don't get to see too often. My husband found a job quickly once he started looking -- a job that is vastly different (for the better) in terms of quality of life. We took a fabulous vacation to Maui and saw two of our good friends get married. I returned to work a found a new, comfortable groove in my assignment -- something I hadn't felt in the office for quite some time. Things were really, really good and I was really, really happy. Sure there were challenges and annoyances along the way, but the good far outweighed the bad. There were days I'd be in my office during lunch, catch a glimpse of a family photo or read a funny message from a friend, and think to myself "I am so blessed."

Then everything with my dad happened and my world fell apart. While I still can find joy, humor, and goodness in various things, there is still a deep sadness that permeates each day. No matter how enjoyable a particular day might be, at the end of it, in those moments right before you drift off to sleep, all my thoughts come back to the following: dad is gone, mom is losing her mind, and my relationship with my brother is (probably) permanently damaged.

When I look back on 2011, I don't know how to label it. Obviously the latter part of the year sucked big time, but the year also brought me some of the most magical moments I've ever experienced. So whatever 2011 was, I'm just relieved that it is over. And whatever 2012 will be, I just hope it isn't as much of a roller coaster ride.

Wishing all of you a happy and prosperous New Year!

The End is Near

Not the end of days, but the end of my awesome maternity leave, which sort of feels the same to me. :(

Remember that Leave List I drafted back in March? I've completed exactly 1-1/2 things on that list. I had super fun purple-ish streaks in my hair and I've gotten through most of that magazine pile. While I didn't spend any time on those other things on the list, I did spend a lot of time having fun. Sure there were days filled with dirty diapers and naptime tantrums, but there were far more days filled with hanging out with friends, visiting family, shopping, food truck chasing, cooking new recipes, watching tv & cuddling a sweet, happy baby. And there wasn't a single day I had to set the alarm clock for myself. No regrets man.

I'm now staring down approximately the last three weeks of my leave, trying to maximize my fun before I'm shackled to The Man again. I already covered up my purple hair with a dress code friendly shade of brown. *sigh* So here is my updated leave list:

- Spend a day at Laguna Beach
- Have brunch with friend(s)
- Go on our 1st real vacation in over a year
- Read "A Suitable Boy" (not your traditional beach read, but whatevs)
- Finish all those magazines
- Stop checking my work e-mail
- Make beef bourguigon (even though it's 5 million degrees outside)

I've left myself some wiggle room to go wherever the day may take me. :-)

I will miss you maternity leave, but let's stick our head in the sand about your imminent demise and make every day count in the meantime!

Operation Wedding Weight

In January 2012, I will celebrate my 5th wedding anniversary. Since that day back in 2007, I have gained 50 pounds.

Say it with me ..... HOLY SHIT!!!!!

When I got married, I was 10 pounds above what would be the upper limit of a normal BMI for my height, but I thought I still looked pretty good. BMI doesn't account for big boobs.

(blurry pic of a pic but you get the idea)

These days however, I pretty much hate every photo of myself, as well as my reflection in the mirror.

How does one gain 50 pounds in almost 5 years? Well there was happy post-marriage weight, followed by stress-eating-due-to-a-sucky-boss-weight, followed by pregnancy weight, with a HUGE dose of laziness thrown in. Yeah, I can't believe I let me do this to myself either.

So tomorrow morning I commence Operation Wedding Weight. The goal is to get as close as I can to my wedding weight by my wedding anniversary. That's 50 pounds in 31 weeks, which breaks down to a target loss of 1.6 pounds per week. Not too unreasonable, right?

The plan is as follows:
- 3 low carb meals and 2 snacks per day (aiming for no more than 1600 calories/day)
- limit of one 5oz. glass of wine per night, if at all
- skating 2x per week
- pilates 2x per week
- cardio 4x per week, for at least 40 minutes
- a daily 2-3 mile walk with the kid for the rest of maternity leave

I could totally say that this is all in the interest of health now that I'm 35, that diabetes runs in the family and gestational diabetes upped my chances even more of developing Type 2, that I want to model healthy eating for my child, blah blah blah, but in all honesty I'm just a really vain bitch who wants to feel pretty and shop easily again.

If I put it out on the interwebz I have to do it right?

My First Mother's Day (Epically Long)

Note: Obviously this is late, but I had food poisoning on Sunday, the worst case I've had since college. Happy Mother's Day indeed!

It seems like an opportune time for Juliette's birth story, no? I know some of you are cringing and clicking the back button already, but I swear there is not much grossness in this post. This is likely to be the longest post I will ever write, but I need to document as much as I can while it's still somewhat fresh in my mind. And I didn't want to spend the whole week breaking it up into parts. Besides, thirteen to fifteen years from now I'm going to need this info to lay a guilt trip on the kiddo. ;-)

On Saturday January 22nd, I was just shy of being 35 weeks pregnant. I went to pilates in the morning, thought about packing a hospital bag & reading some birth prep info, napped instead, ate dinner, watched tv & went to bed by 11pm. I wanted to be well rested for the next day, as we had plans to see the 3rd show in our Pantages season ticket package. It was a pretty typical, lazy day.

At 3am on Sunday January 23rd, I woke up with a backache. Figuring I may have pulled something in pilates I tried to adjust my sleep position. Nothing seemed to alleviate the pain though. By 4am I gave up on trying to sleep and went out to the living room. Initially, sitting up seemed to relieve my back, but then the pain would return. After nearly 45 minutes I realized that the pain was coming & going every 4 minutes and I frantically starting googling "back labor." I also had signs of bloody show. It wasn't long after that Google search that I frantically called Kaiser hospital's 24-hour advice line. I got transferred to a Labor & Delivery nurse who told me to come straight in if the pattern of back pain continued for 2 hours.

By that point, Eddie had woken up. I updated him as to what was going on. Then he went back to bed. Hmph. From 5-6am I timed my labor, which stayed at a steady 4 minutes between back contractions, while watching Say Yes to the Dress. At 6am I started throwing together a bag to take to the hospital. Luckily I had polled some mom friends a few weeks earlier on what they felt was essential, so I had a list written down already. I love packing lists, no matter the situation. At 6:30am I made myself somewhat presentable & woke up Eddie. Or rather tried to wake up Eddie. From bed he saw me standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom & told me to let him know when I was ready, then rolled back over. I promptly informed him that it was not a hair & makeup type of day & that we needed to leave asap. Within 15 minutes he was up, walked the dog & we were on our way.

Here is where Meltdown #1 occurred. We were in no way ready for a baby that wasn't supposed to arrive for another five weeks. I had no idea why I was in preterm labor. I knew that my OB, whom I adore & completely trust, was on vacation out of town. Cue the tears.

Around 7am we arrived at the L&D admitting office. They took down all my basic info, then sent me into a triage room where I got hooked up to monitors to measure my contractions and the baby's heartbeat. I also got flooded with fluids, in case dehydration was the culprit. Then I was given two doses of procardia, with the hope the medication would stop the contractions. No such luck. I was in some sort of denial at this stage, thinking that I might need to take the morning off work the next day or might need to be on bedrest for a while. The reality is that I was still contracting every 4 minutes, despite being dilated only1cm. They decided to complete the admissions process and I was on my way to a birthing suite by 10am.

The birthing suite was large & private with a huge bathroom and shower. I wish I had time to take advantage of it all, but back labor is excruciating. Every doctor & nurse I encountered said it's the worst type of labor pain except for pitocin-induced contractions. Yikes. By the time I got settled into the birthing suite, around 11am, I was dilated to 4cm. My 1st and most awesome nurse offered me an epidural. I had no qualms about saying "Yes please!" At 12pm, the nurse anesthetist arrived, Eddie was sent out of the room and I got into position to get the epidural. While I had heard many tales about the huge epidural needle, etc. what I hadn't heard was how much the local anesthesia prior to the epidural hurts. Holy shit that stuff stung like a mofo. I don't know if it was my inability to get into a good position or the nurse anesthetist's inability to do her job, but it took two attempts and nearly one hour to get that sucker in me. Once the epidural took effect, things were pretty blissful. I wasn't in pain and I could lay in bed watching tv to my heart's content. I was constantly on the phone, texting family, friends, & my boss (since by that point it was clear I wasn't going to be in at all the next day). I met the on-call OB, who was perfectly nice. I also met with a NICU doctor, just in case the baby would need to go there after birth, but he seemed optimistic that she wouldn't need to. The only bad thing at this point was the fact that I was starving. I had been on a very regimented diet that had me eating every 3 hours for gestational diabetes, but it was well over 12 hours since my last snack of greek yogurt. Around 5pm my nurse took pity on me and snuck me 2 orange-flavored sugar-free popsicles. At the time, those popsicles were as delicious as anything I'd ever eaten in a Michelin-starred restaurant. I continued to get checked for progress and was pleased to find out I had dilated to 7cm. It seemed as if the baby would be born by midnight.

At 7pm, a new nurse came on duty and checked me again. I was still at 7cm. A couple hours later, I was still at 7cm. At midnight, I was still at 7cm. The doctor came in and told me he didn't want to do any interventions as long as me and the baby were still doing alright. He wanted the baby to incubate inside of me for as long as she could. While I appreciated his philosophy of letting my body & nature take their courses, I was starting to feel a little dejected. With the epidural still working its magic, I got as comfy as I could and tried to sleep.

On Monday January 24th, I woke up around 7am. I'd been in the hospital a full 24 hours. I was on to nurse #3. She checked me again around 9am and I was still at that blasted 7cm.

The new day meant a new OB on-call. I met her at 10am and welcomed her suggestion to try a little pitocin to see if they would intensify my contractions a little bit. Since I already had an epidural, the pitocin-pain I had heard about wouldn't be a factor. At 11am, there were some scary moments where the baby's heart rate dipped dramatically low for seemingly no reason. I started preparing myself to hear "We need to do a c-section," but the OB waited it out a minute or two and the baby's heartbeat got back up to normal. At 12pm I got checked again to see if the pitocin was working. I was still at that blasted 7cm!

Here is where Meltdown #2 occurred. I was starving & exhausted. I hadn't progressed in 17 hours. I didn't know how much longer I could keep myself together enough to actually push this baby out, whenever that would be. Thankfully Eddie was a fantastic coach and got me through the tears.

Shortly after noon, the OB returned and asked if I'd consent to letting her break my water. I said yes. It seemed to have a quick effect, as I started feeling enough pressure within the hour to request a booster for my epidural. By 1pm I had dilated to 9cm and was feeling a lot of pressure. I also started trembling violently. I had the shakes for a solid hour. By 2pm I was finally at 10cm and started pushing. I also started hating nurse #3 who kept telling me I wasn't pushing hard enough. I really wanted to tell her to STFU and/or kick her in the head. At 3pm, after several rounds of pushing, the baby's head was right at the exit point, yet just wouldn't go through. For a girl who decided that she wanted to come into the world early, this kid sure took her sweet ass time about it. Sheesh. Around 3:15pm the OB came in, followed by a team from NICU. After another round or two of pushing, the OB asked if I'd like some vacuum assistance. I took her up on the offer and Juliette entered the world at 3:32pm, after 34 hours of labor, weighing 5lbs 13oz and measuring 19-1/2 inches.

Here is where Meltdown #3 occurred. I wasn't in tears, but I was in silent fear because the baby was not letting out a robust cry. In fact, she wasn't making much noise at all. After being placed on my chest for a nanosecond, she was whisked to the area of the room set up for the NICU team. Everyone was so quiet & focused on what they were doing it freaked me out. The OB tried to reassure me that everything was fine, but I wouldn't be convinced unless I heard her cry. The baby finally did let out a cry, but it sounded wrong, like she was gasping. So off to NICU she went while I got cleaned up and stitched. I had a small 2nd degree tear, but it wasn't anything that I felt at the time.

By 5pm I was being transferred out of the birthing suite and on my way to a recovery room. The recovery room was also private, but it was small and I had to share the bathroom. Yuck, especially with all the stuff happening downstairs if you know what I mean. I had hoped we could go to the NICU right away, but I had contracted a slight fever post-birth. By 7pm the fever was gone and we started walking down the hallway to see our daughter.

These are Juliette's first photos. They are still a little hard for me to look at even now that a few months have passed. She had to be intubated right after birth and when we first saw her we could immediately tell that she hated those darn tubes and wanted them out. She was so unhappy, fighting the tubes, and there was nothing we could do other than hold her tiny IV-attached hand.

The NICU staff was fantastic. They encouraged us to be as hands-on as we could and had an open-door policy for visits.Thankfully by our second visit later that evening, she was no longer intubated and had only a nasal cannula. Finally, we could hold her. Or rather, I could hold her. I don't know if he was scared by how small and fragile she was or if he just wanted me to have my time with her, but Eddie let me do all the holding that first night.

By the next morning, Tuesday, Juliette was off of breathing assistance altogether. She had a bath and someone dolled her up in an adorable hat.

We spent most of that day visiting with the baby in NICU. She was doing well, but the doctors wanted to observe her that extra day just to be sure. During this time we got an odd visit from the hospital social worker who interviewed us in an attempt to see if there were any factors of concern that may have played a part in Juliette's premature birth. In essence, they were trying to find out if I was a crackhead, if Eddie abused me or if we were broke. :-/ After finding out about our levels of education, my employer and believing we're financially secure, the social worker quickly wrapped up her visit. On Wednesday morning we found out that Juliette had jaundice and would need time under the UV lights, so her discharge would be postponed at least a day.

I got discharged late Wednesday afternoon.

Here is where Meltdown #4 occurred. Up to that point I was relatively okay with the fact that our baby was in NICU and would not be coming home right away. I found comfort in the fact that she was being carefully monitored and looked after by professionals who knew exactly what they were doing and had far more experience with babies than I did. I knew that she was improving leaps & bounds with each day and was one of the strongest babies in the NICU. I knew she'd be home soon. But it felt so.damn.wrong being wheeled out of the hospital without our baby in my arms.

The first thing I did after getting home (other than giving Jack a million scratches behind his ears & pats on the head) was take the longest, hottest, best shower of my life. After a quick nap and dinner it was back to the NICU. Then it was back home, where I slept uninterrupted for the first time in days. On Thursday we (mostly Eddie) spent the morning and early afternoon cleaning the house and trying to get the nursery together. I made some phone calls to get my short-term disability claim & maternity leave going and then we spent the rest of the day back at the NICU. Juliette's jaundice levels had come down, but she still needed to complete her hearing and car seat test, both of which were scheduled for Friday morning. Before noon on Friday we got the call that Juliette was ready to come home. After a quick lunch we headed out for the hospital, stopping to make a trip to Babies R' Us for all the essentials.

Getting discharged from NICU seemed to take forever, but it was well worth the time. I had been having major issues with breastfeeding, so one of the RNs worked with me for a long time, trying different techniques. She was better than any of the LCs who had visited me, but alas, my boobies were still uncooperative. We met with the baby's pediatrician, who I had met a year earlier in my pilates class (doesn't that sound so yuppie?). We got loaded up with diapers, bottles, nipples, pacifiers, etc. Several of the nurses came by to say goodbye to Juliette. We also got a certificate with her teeny footprints imprinted on it, as well as the artwork that decorated her bassinet. One of the NICU nurses does a drawing for each baby that comes into the unit.

At 7pm, we were finally on our way home. All three of us. :-)

Now, I didn't have much of a birth plan during my pregnancy other than "Go to hospital. Have baby." However, there were some things that I knew would be out of my control, but that I hoped to avoid:

1. I didn't want to go into labor before reaching full term.
2. I didn't want to have a long labor, only to end up with a c-section.
3. I didn't want to have a baby in NICU.

Um, yeah. The only part of that I avoided was a c-section. I guess one could compare that list to what actually happened and say that I must have had a bad birth experience. My feeling on the matter, however, is that my birth experience was not ideal but it was still good. The hospital staff in L&D and in NICU was fantastic. They were caring, respectful, reassuring & always kept us informed of what was happening. I felt that my feelings were a priority and that no one tried to push me into doing anything I didn't want to. Even after we were home we received follow-up calls from the nurses (and my OB once he was back from vacation) to make sure things were okay and to answer any questions that may have arisen. The process may not have been perfect, but the end result certainly is:

The Leave List

Hello? Is anyone out there?

I can't believe it's been almost a year since I've blogged. I didn't stop for any particular reason, other than laziness. Okay, maybe my addiction to Twitter had a little bit to do with it. ;) I kept meaning to get back into blogging, but something always seemed to pop up and distract me. Then I got consumed with a project that ended with me popping out this beautiful creature:

With the arrival of the little one (to be detailed in another post), I am on leave from work until August. While the priority during that time will be bonding with and taking care of baby J, I also wanted to use the time to finally tackle some of the tasks that I have been putting off forever, claiming lack of time and energy after work. Number 1 on that list? Blogging. :) I don't intend for this to become a mommy blog, but now did seem to be a good time to return to a medium meant to document daily life as well as the big events.

Other items on the list:
- Upload/back up photos.
- Catchup on an enormous stack of magazines. I swear 1/2 the clutter in the condo is due to my magazines.
- Master a cookie recipe.
- Read A Suitable Boy.
- Exercise every day.
- Finish my closet reorganization
- Catalog all of my skating videos. They date back to 1988, so it's a huge undertaking.
- Get hair streaks in an outrageous color. I was too much of a good girl to do this when I was a teenager & since my office is conservative, this might be the only chance I'll have to recapture my youth.
- Take Jack to dog beach.
- Buy new bed & throw pillows.
- Donate books (thereby freeing up space for new books!)

Nothing earth-shattering, but at least it's a starting point for me to whittle down the seemingly never-ending "To Do" list.

Over Before It Ever Began

The last two days have been an emotional rollercoaster.

It all started Friday afternoon. I came home early from work, feeling sick with a cold. Knowing that my period was 7 days late, I stopped at Walgreen's to pick up a pregnancy test. I didn't think my usual cold remedy of Contac washed down with a glass of wine would be a good idea if I happened to be pregnant. So my responsible self peed on a stick, waited three minutes and then got the shock of my life. The little digital screen said "pregnant." We had literally just started trying to conceive; I never thought it could happen so quickly, especially since I get closer to reaching "advanced maternal age" with each passing month. As the shock and resulting shakiness wore off during the next few hours, I started poking around all sorts of baby websites: maternity clothes, nursery decor, due date predictors, etc. I even made a little bandana for Jack to wear, announcing that he was going to be a big brother, as my way of telling Eddie. Yeah, I'm a ridiculous, over-the-top dog owner. Eddie came home, found out the news and started looking around our spare room, figuring out how to turn it into a nursery.

The next morning, still in a little bit of disbelief I tested again. And the screen came up with a "not pregnant." Since there was one more test in the box, I had a big cup of tea and tested again. Another "not pregnant." By that point I had been poking around the internet enough to know that things were not looking good. Sometimes Google is not your friend. I called Kaiser's nurse advice line. The nurse agreed with me that the conflicting results were "perplexing" (no shit Sherlock), but that I could come in for a blood draw over the weekend if I wanted to be sure. If not, I should just keep an eye out for any sharp pains, heavy bleeding or difficulty breathing. While I was getting ready to head out to the hospital, I realized there wasn't much point anymore. There were clear signs of what looked like the start of a period.

Miscarriage is such a rough sounding word. A chemical pregnancy sounds more benign, but is really just a very early version of the same thing.

So I was pretty sad yesterday. I'm still feeling a little sad today. Although the stats say that this happens quite often and that there are numerous causes, I still can't help but feel some guilt, as if I did something wrong. Maybe it was because I drank way more than usual last weekend on a girls' weekend? Or took advil a couple times during the week? Or because I'm fat? Or because of this nasty cold I came down with? Or maybe it was a karmic bitchslap for getting too happy, too quickly.

I also feel guilty about feeling sad. There are so many women who have faced far greater struggles on their journey to parenthood and who have had to endure far worse losses. I poked around a messageboard dealing with loss yesterday and felt silly & selfish. My situation seems so much more trivial by comparison.

So now I am trying to find some positivity out of this whole thing. We can build up our savings some more. I can keep eating sushi, rare meat & soft cheeses. I can get hardcore about dieting & exercise. I can take that trip to Portland in mid-November. And Christmas will always be much saner (the due date would have been 12/22).

The part that really gets me is that if I hadn't wanted to take cold medicine on Friday, I wouldn't have even thought of testing until this morning. Which would have been unnecessary; I just would have assumed that my period was late this month. I never would have known that I was pregnant, even if it was just for a minute.

This is one of those times that ignorance would have been bliss.

Why Hello There 2010 ...

... you certainly seemed to sneak up on me. I guess that's what happens when you never quite get into the holiday season. It all passes by before your eyes and all of a sudden it's a new decade. Then you start to reflect on the past ten years and realize how much has happened in your life. I have to admit that the last decade brought a lot of change and upheaval to my life, but overall it was good to me.

So I am trying to be good to the new decade by starting off on a positive foot. I'd like to say that it was an easy day, but I hit a rough patch in the morning that had the potential to entirely derail my day. I'm a big believer in setting the tone for the year by your actions and attitude on January 1st though, so I forced myself to turn the day around rather than wallowing. I made a yummy brunch . I took a chance on an interesting-sounding sparkling shiraz instead of my usual champagne (verdict --- thumbs up). I called my parents & my brother. I went to the gym and did a solid 30 minutes of cardio (gasp! --- like literally dude; I'm way out of shape). Then I came home and made Eddie one of his favorite meals. And now I'm actually blogging again, about something other than books or skating.

So bring it on 2010. You might have startled me a bit, but I think I'm ready for you.

Ennui

This past weekend I attended my fraternity's LEAD school. Usually I skip most of the sessions, as they are geared toward collegiate students. I just register and attend so I (a) set a good example for my kids and (b) can spend some quality time with alums I don't get to see very often. This year, there were actually a few sessions that interested me. Two were being presented by Adam Carroll, who I knew from previous experience would be an interesting speaker. His first workshop on creating effective presentations didn't disappoint. But as I was about to head off to his second workshop of the day, which was entitled "From Vision to Reality", it suddenly hit me that I don't have a vision; I feel like I've been meandering through life lately. I ended up skipping the session, thinking to myself that it wouldn't be too useful if I don't even have a vision I want to make real.

My lack of vision has been bugging me since Saturday. I keep finding myself thinking about it when I have downtime. I have come to a few realizations so far:

1. I'm happy and satisfied with my personal relationships including my husband, family and friends. So at least that can be excluded as a source of my current state.

2. I think the source of my feeling traces back to when I worked for Big Bad, specifically the really bad performance review he gave me around this time last year. I've spent the year since telling myself that his opinion didn't matter and I should let it all just roll off my back. But when I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that it has had a lingering effect. As much as I've tried to leave it in the past, I haven't been able to. It really stung to hear that I'm a crap prosecutor who shouldn't abandon the field altogether yet, but that I was teetering on the verge. It stung even more that the two other supervisors present, who also had the right to participate in that review, didn't say a word in my defense and just advised me to "let it blow over". When the people who are supposed to mentor you don't believe in you and make it widely known, it's hard to believe in yourself. When all people expect from you is crap, it becomes easy to fall into complacency and only perform to that low standard.

But despite all this I don't hate what I do. I just have not-so-great feelings about some of my co-workers and management. I feel like I need a fresh start. The seemingly easy answer would be to just change jobs, but we all know that's easier said than done. First off, the economy sucks and there are a glut of lawyers who went to better schools and have better credentials than I do flooding the market. Even when/if the economy improves, pedigree is still very important in law hiring and I just don't have it. Secondly, even switching to another county would be very difficult at this point with the amount of seniority I have. Plus, from what I hear, pretty much every DA's office has as much trouble with gossip, back stabbing and general wackiness that my current one does. Three, again, the economy sucks. What kind of spoiled bitch am I to complain about my job when so many people are in dire financial straits?

When I keep thinking about how to get out, all it leads to are the reasons to stay in. And I'd need to stay in at least another 29 years to maximize my pension benefits. FML. Need to win lotto (which is not a realistic vision) stat.

3. Somehow my attitude and feelings related to my job have seeped into my approach to outside activities. Feeling mediocre from 8:30 to 5 for so long has made me feel mediocre at things like ice skating, blogging, working out, cooking, housekeeping, decorating, etc. I feel like I can't excel at anything, so instead I'm just doing the bare minimum to get by. My motto lately seems to be "Why bother?". Please spare me the postive mental attitude stuff; I've tried but I feel like I'm just kidding myself.

So this is me, being emo. I don't have a lot of answers yet, but identifying the issues is the start of solving them, right?

What a Week

I try to avoid doing bullet style posts, but this week has been filled with work and activities every single day! It's all been mostly good, but tiring. I'm so glad that we have nothing planned this weekend.

So what have I been up to?

• I went to a fun GTG at JD 2 B's place. It was less than a year ago that I headed over there all nervous for my first-ever GTG. This time I was just excited to see everyone. No more GTG trepidation. :-)
• Eddie and I have both had many Deltasig events and meetings to attend related to our positions as advisors. I am fortunate that "my kids" are good to me and don't cause much trouble. I just wish they weren't such night owls; I can't keep up anymore!
• They say that when the economy goes down, crime goes up. Based on the steady influx of cases getting assigned to me, I have to say that this saying just might be true. It is making for some very long days in court. Especially when you have to cover for a flaky p.o.s. co-worker. Grr.
• I had a great lunch on Wednesday with the people I consider my Core Co-workers. These are the people I've known since my first few months on the job; they are the ones I know I can always count on and trust. Over the past year a tag-a-long that shall be known as the Jellyfish (If you have read Bridget Jones' Diary then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't then you are probably pretty confused.) has been joining us at our weekly lunches and it just isn't the same with her around. But this week she was far, far away on vacation and it was just the five of us again. It was wonderful.
• Also on Wednesday, I saw my brother for the first time since my wedding! Even though he's been living on the East Coast 10+ years, we usually see each other at least once a year. He happened to be in San Diego this week on a business trip, so I drove down to meet him for dinner. We had a great meal at the C-Level bistro within the Island Prime restaurant, but more importantly we had a great time catching up with each other. Our parents' 44th wedding anniversary was the same day, so we called them after dinner. I like to think that they were happy my big bro and I were hanging out together, even though they would have preferred it if we were all having dinner approximately 500 miles north of where we were.

And to end on a note of cuteness:

• According to Eddie, the night that I was really late coming home (from SD), Jack had been at the windowsill whimpering the entire evening. When Eddie is super-late, Jack just peers out the window. It has now been decided once and for all that Jack is indeed a mama's dog. And a big baby. ;-)

The E-Mails You Come to Dread the Most

When the Big Boss sends out an e-mail with just the name of an attorney in the subject line, it's generally not a good thing.

Today was sadly no exception.

We never worked in the same assignment together, but had met at several social occasions. She was warm, friendly, smart and genuine. I hate having to write about someone in the past tense. I can't even begin to imagine what her family is going through, especially what her young daughters will go through once they are old enough to understand it all.

Hug your loved ones a little tighter tonight.

A Martini Day

The Scene: 4:55pm in a courtroom in 'da hood.

The Judge: "Off the record, five minutes before five o'clock. You all earned your paychecks today, not that you don't work hard every day."

Me: "Today was crazy."

Defense Counsel: "I think we all earned a glass or two of wine in addition to our checks."

The Judge: "Your entitled to your choice Ms. Defense Counsel, but I think today deserves a martini."

Who am I to not follow a judge's order? This past afternoon really does require a martini (or other vodka-based drink) for recovery. I'm typing this with a glass in hand.

Mondays and Wednesdays are always pre-trial days. A typical pre-trial day entails prepping files in the morning and court appearances after lunch until 3:30 or so. Maybe 4pm if it's an unusually busy day. Then it's back to the office for filing, phone calls, e-mails, etc.

Here was today: 17 cases on afternoon calendar in the courtroom, nine of which belong to me. My first case up was a local high profile case. Between the media attention and the need for delicate handling of the victim, I'm always edgy when this case comes up on calendar. We get through that okay, with some tears from both sides but no outbursts.

Then came the case that really took it out of me. It's rare that I completely lose it with opposing counsel. I have a pretty strong reputation for being fair, reasonable and easy to work with. But trying to discuss a case with this one old man PITA left me wanting to kick him. It should have been an easy case; the Probation Dept. had already drafted a pre-plea report. But old man PITA still wanted to dispute every single standard term on there, interrupting me at every possible turn as I tried to talk to the other, more normal defense attorneys on all those other cases. He even tried to argue with me about "making the minor a ward of the court," when the document clearly stated that the proposed plea would NOT make the minor a ward. It was like living a bad thread on The Nest. I didn't know what to do except stop talking to old man PITA and request a conference on the case with the judge. As we waited our turn, old man PITA still took it upon himself to mumble crap into my ear. Fortunately, the judge is a smart man. He quickly figured out what (or who) the problem was and reined in old man PITA. The only problem was that by the time old man PITA was out of my hair, it was already past 3:30 and I still had six cases to call. Oy.

I didn't leave the office until well past 5pm. I know that firm lawyers will have no sympathy for me on this point, but one of the perks of my job is the fact that I generally never have to stay past 5pm. When I stay past five, it's a sign that it's been a bad day.

So now you know why I am already halfway through an elderflower gimlet. I first had this drink at Nopa, but I think I have created a decent at-home approximation:

For one serving, pour 2 parts vodka, 1 part lime juice and 1 part elderflower liqueur over ice into a martini shaker. Shake well, pour into a chilled glass and garnish with lime.

A Time for Change

How can anyone possibly be uninspired today?

It is no surprise to most people who know me that I have been an Obama supporter from the beginning. I still remember the feeling of awe I had after his 2004 speech at the Democratic National Convention. I recall thinking, "This guy has a great future in politics." I didn't think the future would come so quickly however, that a mere four years later he would be Mr. President.

While today's events undoubtedly mark changes for the nation and the world, part of his inaugural address struck me instantly and has stuck with me on a personal level:

"Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America."

This statement sums up how I have been feeling about 2009 so far. I stopped making resolutions a few years ago, but after the mess that 2008 was I knew that I needed to make some changes for my own sake. As much as I tried not to let it affect me, the stress I felt at work last year had physical manifestations. I ate more, slept less and had a bottle of Tylenol on my desk at all times. I started the year by coming down with the flu and closed out the year by developing bronchitis. Most of all I didn't feel like myself. Instead I felt like I was trying to fit a role of what people thought I should be like: unbending, more aggressive, harsher.

It's time for me to pick myself up, dust myself off and remake me. I need to be true to my own character, not what others want me to be. If it means rethinking my career path and how I can accomplish certain goals, then so be it. I will just need to get creative. It's time for me to take better care of myself so that I can be a better person. I want to live in the moments that make a day, rather than going through the motions. The time for change has arrived, in more ways than one.

The Week in Pictures

Disclaimer: Bad photos ahead. I was too tired or too buzzed while taking most of them. Or in a moving car while tired and buzzed. Don't worry, I wasn't driving. Well, except for the last 2 pictures. But I wasn't tired or buzzed then I swear!



Last Friday we gathered with our neighbors at Fleming's Steakhouse to celebrate some very important birthdays. While we were waiting for our table we amused ourselves by taking pictures while wacthing the antics of a man who claimed to be Mr. Jack Ass at the hostess desk. Poor hostess. Jackass even asked her how far along she was. Um, she wasn't pregnant. :-/
Black napkins for the ladies in LBDs. White napkins for everyone else.

Eddie received a hilarious and appropriate gift.

Pretty ladies and ...... their pretty martinis.

This is SC Fabulous recreating her shunning of our waitress, who seemed to have issues with SC Fabulous.

Lobster tempura appetizer. Worth the $25.

Fleming's has a massive wine list. I always try to choose something I've never had before. On this trip I had Educated Guess cabernet sauvignon. On the left you can see the chocolate dipped peppermint sticks KB Squared made for us.

I had the chef's special for the evening: two 4 oz. filet mignons with seared scallops, seafood risotto and fried goat cheese. In the background you can see the famous Fleming's potatoes: a gratin baked with cream, jalapenos and cheddar cheese. Yum.

Birthday girl B with the creme brulee.

Birthday boy Eddie with the Chocolate Peanut Butter Sandwich: chocolate cookie crust, peanut butter mousse and a touch of raspberry jam. To.die.for.

Group shot ... we closed the place down!

The next night we got dolled up for a holiday party thrown by a local defense firm. Clearly we need to work on our Facebook-style self portraits. There weren't any wild shenanigans at the party despite the free flowing alcohol and mock casino tables. A good time was had by all.

The birthday bash for Eddie continued on Sunday. We woke up bright and early (for a weekend at least) to get a walk-in table for brunch at the Mission Inn. The Sunday brunch here is fantastic. Definitely make reservations in advance if you're inclined to check it out.

The grounds are all decked out for the holidays.

I loved the look of this mantel. I am totally copying this look sometime in the future.

Me with the oppressed snowman. He was bound down with wire around his neck and feet. Poor Frosty.

Busy elves.

We sweated off all those calories at brunch by hitting the steam room at Kelly's Spa, followed by an 80 minute massage in one of the spa villas, followed by more time in the steam room and lots of herbal tea in the relaxation lounge.

Thursday night we drove out to a neighborhood in our city renowned for its holiday light displays. Despite it being somewhat late and a weekenight, there was still a lengthy wait to enter the main street. Jack's face sums it up.

We tried to pass a little time by making Jack drive. He wasn't going for it.

Finally. Lights!

This one reminded me of a gingerbread house.

Even Jack perked up when he saw the lights.

Ice skaters!

Peanutspalooza.

Disney was well represented too.

The newbies explained themselves.

I hate driving in the rain, but I appreciate the drive after storm clears out. I love the juxtaposition of palm trees, snow capped mountains and a bright blue sky.

Drained

That's how I'm feeling this evening. The meeting did not go well. Hate is a strong word. I strongly dislike a lot of people, but I actually hate very few. Big Bad is on my hate list. Eventually I might write in more detail about what transpired this morning, but I just don't have the energy right now.

In the meantime, the following bit of caselaw that I came across while prepping a case alleging receipt of stolen property gave me a bit of amusement. Maybe it will amuse you too. Judges are often unintentionally funny.

Evidence was insufficient to support conviction for receipt of stolen property; missing property was a heifer which had a mind of her own and had wandered off twice in week before her disappearance, and there was no evidence suggesting that anyone had stolen heifer prior to last disappearance. People v. Moses (App. 3 Dist. 1990) 266 Cal.Rptr. 538,

Happy Wednesday!

Eddie is not known for being a particularly romantic or sentimental person. Yet he never fails to suprise me every once in a while. Yesterday, in the midst of an exhausting and stressful week, he brought a beautiful fall bouquet for me. Why? Just to wish me a happy Wednesday. :-)

The Joys of Facebook

Back when I graduated high school in 1993, it was a bit tougher to stay in touch with people. Unlike today's teenagers no one had cell phones and e-mail & internet usage were in their infancy. Had anyone even thought of social networking sites at that time? The combination of busy work and school schedules, along with location changes made it difficult for me to stay in touch with some of my close friends from high school. Despite the best of intentions, we drifted apart.

Over the past few months I have found some of those friends again on Facebook. And while I was glad to see all of them again and catch up with their lives via photos and messages, there was still one person "missing" in my heart. She was the girl who I would consider my best friend in high school, the one that I had kept in touch with the longest post-graduation, the one that left me thinking "I wonder what she's up to." I had done a couple FB and MySpace searches for her in the past to no avail. (I swear I'm not a stalker!) But today, there was a wonderful surprise in my Yahoo! inbox -- a message requesting that I confirm her as a friend.

With this new addition, I have now reconnected with the core group of people I spent my high school years with. I'm pretty darn stoked about it. :)

How Not To Be A Juror

The key to not being selected for a jury? Actually want to be selected as a juror.

This morning I headed to court, not as a lawyer but as a prospective juror. I was looking somewhat forward to the prospect of being on a jury. I want to know what happens in the jury room during deliberations when people stop being polite and start getting real. I checked in, found a seat and watched the goofy video about the trial process. Okay, I didn't really watch it; I read my book instead. As luck would have it, my panel was sent up to a courtroom as soon as the video was over. My luck persisted in that the case was a civil one and did not involve any lawyers or court staff that I already know. My local courthouse is not in the same town where I make most of my own court appearances, but I still know a few people at the local outpost.

As the judge gave us a brief overview of the claims being made and some of the areas of inquiry, I couldn't help but think I'd be a perfect juror for this case (assuming the lawyers could get past having another lawyer as a juror). Some exposure to injury claims arising out of accidents? Check. Ability to listen to expert witnesses? Check. Familiarity with economics and financial projections? Check and check. Willingness and ability to serve on a jury for three weeks without causing personal hardship? Check. This case was so meant to be mine for consideration.

Except that I didn't get randomly called into the box or as part of the six-pack. Instead I was sentenced to sit in the audience and listen to almost two dozen people drone on about their lives. Apart from the one freakshow who started spouting off on the evils of psychiatric medications a'la Tom Cruise, it was very dull. Painfully boring. A g o n i z i n g l y s l o w. It began to dawn on me that the suckiest part about being a potential juror is waiting in the audience and then not being selected. After four hours of this torture, not only was I finally set free but I also earned my freedom from jury duty for one year. It's a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand at least I don't have to endure another day of this for a while. But on the other hand, I still want to know what really goes down during deliberations.

The Mind Knows What It Wants ...

... and mine wants more sleep. Instead of hitting the snooze button this morning I turned the alarm off instead. And fell back asleep. I'm not all that surprised. Fortunately I woke up within a half hour; I don't think Eddie will be that late for work. :-/

If I were queen of the world, my office hours would be 9:30-6. Who am I kidding? Like I'd keep working if I became queen of the world. ;-)

Past, Present, Future?

Last week, my supervisor walked into my office holding an envelope. Usually that signals something ominous, like a performance review, but instead I was presented with this pin.


It commemorates the completion of my 5th year of service to The Agency. July came and went without me even realizing that I had moved down here six years ago. So much has changed in that time. Not everything went according to the plan I had in my mind, but thankfully much of it was for the better.

Six years ago:

• I was at the start of a 2-1/2 year probationary employment period, never knowing if or when I'd be fired.
  
• I took a $10K paycut which left me barely making ends meet.
• I was in a toxic long-distance relationship.
• I had never stepped foot in a courtroom.
• I didn't know anyone in SoCal.
• I was living in an apartment that felt more like a temporary place to crash, not like home.
• I was constantly homesick.

Now:

• I have a very stable job.
• I earn a comfortable salary.
• I met and married a man who makes me laugh everyday.
• I have made good friends, both at work and outside of it.
• Not only am I comfortable in a courtroom, but there are some judges whom I truly consider friends.
• I purchased my first home.
• I have a dog again.
  

Did you notice how I didn't address my level of homesickness in the 'Now' list? ;-) That's because part of me still is homesick. It's not something I feel on a day-to-day basis like I once did. But every once in a while, especially if I haven't been up north in more than a couple months, it starts to eat at me. I feel bad that my parents are up there all alone. And as grateful as I am that I have maintained most of my friendships, I still get sad sometimes that I miss out on the random, spur of the moment meet-ups and events. I've reached the point where I can say that I have adjusted to life in SoCal, but still feel at times like I don't quite fit in here. Moving back to the bay area is probably not going to be an option in the foreseeable future. But in the meantime I can visit, hopefully more often, and appreciate my time up there.

Considering that six years ago I never even thought I'd still be down here, I'm curious to find out what the next six years will bring.