Hi, all, I had some random thoughts which, again, don't rise to the level of a post all by themselves and I decided to air 'em all out here:

*Why would anyone ever want to swim in a lake where they do baptisms? I mean, if the water in the lake washes away all of a person's sins, why would you ever want to swim around in all that sin?

*I had forgotten how good the novels of John D. MacDonald are. He's best known for the Travis McGee series. I have, at my parents' house, all 21 of the books. I re-read one of them over the course of the weekend. That's one of the nice things about going home again (despite everyone saying you can't). Becoming re-acquainted with old books. It is like seeing old friends again. Friends you've forgotten, faces you can't place, but personalities which start coming back to you and remind you why you liked them in the first place. Tastes change over time so it is especially fine when you still appreciate the yarns you read 20 years ago. If you stumble across one of his novels, I highly recommend the experience.

*There is a farm about a half a mile from our new house. It is a very small farm. They had a sign out on Sunday advertising fresh tomatoes and corn and squash for sale. I bought some small and ugly tomatoes. They had just been picked that morning. We ate them with blue cheese and onion and fresh basil. It was sublime. It made every other tomato, the ones you buy at the super market, taste like nothing at all. It was what all the other tomatoes aspire to be when they grow up. I think we're going to be regulars at this farm stand.

*I have not been to the beach or in the water for two weeks now. I think I'm going to shrivel up if I don't get some salt air on my skin.

*It rained very hard, very briefly, yesterday. I sent the Girl Child out on to my parents' deck in her bathing suit. She danced and cavorted and gamboled out in the rain with a huge grin on her face. That was kind of magical. When did we all lose the capacity to take delight in a good rain storm? How do we get it back?

*In free moments, my mind is occupied by thoughts of death and dying, by how one dies, by how dying seems to involve a loss of dignity, by how the health care system works, by how the system processes you on your way out. I try not to draw lessons from it all. I do know that I don't ever want to be a burden to my wife or children if it came down to it. That thought fills me with horror. And I worry that I'd be too quick to check out, that I wouldn't fight hard enough, because I wouldn't want to be a burden. I wonder if the really fastidious people die faster.

*I have deer in my yard at the new house. IÂ’d like to plant roses. I hope deer do not eat roses. That would make me sad. I want masses and masses of heavily perfumed roses all over the place.

*Did I mention that my backyard at the new house is practically carpeted with wild strawberries? I heart wild strawberries.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:09 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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We were driving home on Saturday night, after going out for dinner with my parents and a cousin and my grant-aunt, all of whom had been visiting with my grandfather. The children were a little over tired and maybe not on their best behavior. The Girl Child and the Boy Child were squabbling a bit in the back seat. He'd reach over and touch her and she'd object, loudly, and then complain that he was touching her. Then she made a noise that the Boy Child imitated. That infuriated her. She demanded that the Boy Child stop copying her. So, I started to copy her, too. (I never claimed to be a grown up). Then, with all three of us making a huge cacophony, my wife yelled at us all in Norwegian and told us to be quiet. She then told us it was quiet time and the next one to talk would lose.

Silence reigned in the car.

And then a little voice in the backseat whispered: "Boy Child, snakk." [speak]

And he did, of course. And it was all my wife and I could do not to laugh.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:46 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Please tell me that they were intially holding hands..... :-) Hope your Grandfather is doing as well as can be expected, RP. Thoughts and prayers continue on my end.

Posted by: Wicked H at July 18, 2005 04:01 PM (BQhBn)

2 That was such a great post! Can I relate. I do that to my son, when he starts whining. It makes him laugh to have me imitate him at an even higher pitched whinier voice. Kind of like the Whiners on Saturday Night Live. He always reminds me of them and I can't help but laugh.

Posted by: michele at July 18, 2005 10:56 PM (ht2RK)

3 You have adorable children. And reading your posts about them is always so nice. Sorry, my store of eloquence is up for today...

Posted by: Hannah at July 24, 2005 05:32 AM (DlnyL)

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Nope. Not me. I had an entry roughed out in my head about my experiences at the DMV in CT yesterday, including encounter with anti-semitic whacko and me telling him off, but I don't quite have the motivation to write it up today. I blame the humidity. It made my clothes feel wet walking back from lunch. It sapped my strength and sucked out all motivation.

All I want is a nap. And a drink. And a piece of chocolate. Not necessarily in that order, mind you.

Have a nice weekend, y'all. I'll give this whole blog thing another shot come Monday.

Oh, and by the way, if you are looking for someone who exhibits excellent motivation, great skills, and a sensitive treatment of some beautiful architecture, go check out Mr. Cusack's post on the Old Irish Parliament House. Great pictures, too.

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I skipped out of work early last night to go up with a friend to a very spiffy little club called the Grolier Club. The Grolier is a bibliophile club. You have to be actively engaged in the book collecting or book dealing world to be a member. They have an astonishing collection and the best library in the country for research on books and book collecting. The club has a beautiful little brownstone in the lower 60's on the East Side. No dining facilities, but you can't have everything, I suppose.

I went, though, not to see the clubhouse but to see an exhibit of manuscripts, maps and artifacts relating to the American West. It was pretty damn cool. Highlights included: a strand from the original Morse telegraph wire; Peter Stuyvesant's signature; Lewis and Clark signatures and letters; Brigham Young letter describing the original trek West; and, the playing cards used by Frank James, Jesse's brother. Here's the text of the hand out:

Rich in natural resources, cultures, legends and opportunities, the American West has made dreamers of generations of Americans. On view at the Grolier Club from May 11 through July 30, 2005, the exhibition The Western Pursuit of the American Dream chronicles the vast historical panorama of the American West through the outstanding holdings of collector Kenneth W. Rendell. Nearly 150 objects document this national adventure through the actual words and artifacts of explorers, travelers, warriors, gold seekers, merchants, outlaws-dreamers all-who shaped the American frontier.

The Western Pursuit begins with the Spanish in Mexico and ends with filmmakers in Hollywood. It chronicles the dream of freedom and opportunity in the West and how it inspired adventures, trade, and legends, exploring the history of the fur trade, cartography, industry, artistry, and Western tourism. The Rendell collection includes fascinating letters, diaries and first-hand descriptions, as well as intriguing western artifacts collected over decades. Rarely-seen volumes such as a first edition of the History of the ExpeditionÂ…of Captains Lewis and Clark, and personal accounts by explorers, traders, trappers, and travelers provide an intimate glimpse of the West. Its history is also conveyed through remarkable artifacts such as a gold pan used by forty-niners, letters of Davy Crockett and Wild Bill Hickok, Pony Express envelopes, and Frank James' playing cards. As Mr. Rendell has pointed out, "These remnants of the past express, as no historian can, the realities, anxieties, and hope of a new life that the West represented. This sense of hope was not exclusive to the people who actually went there, but was also felt by those who merely fantasized about escaping to the frontier."

The trek by Meriwether Lewis, William Clark and their Corps of Discovery is one of America's legendary adventures. Silver peace medals like those used by Lewis and Clark to gain the trust of Indian leaders are on view. An extraordinarily rare, first-edition map of Lewis and Clark's journey, which portrayed far more territory than anticipated and further fueled the lure of the West, is an exhibition highlight.

In the 1840s, the era of Manifest Destiny, Americans were consumed with dreams of settling the West. This period is recalled through a fascinating selection of guidebooks used by travelers to cross the continent. Publications like The Route Across the Rocky Mountains (1846) and A New History of Oregon and California (1847) present a first-hand look at the great overland migration. Miners soon followed and the story of the California gold rush is told through evocative early photographs of miners, panning equipment, travel guides, gold nuggets, and a rare letter by John A. Sutter---all evoking the dream of striking it rich in places where the streets were purportedly paved in gold.

Others found ways to earn a living in the West. Soon after the Civil War, industrialization spread with the transcontinental railroad. Within two years of its completion in 1869, passengers and freight could cross the continent in a matter of days. Stereograph images from events like the Golden Spike Ceremony, and the idealized prints of railroad travel by Currier and Ives fueled enthusiasm for many to pursue opportunity in the West.

The exhibition also reveals the tensions between the romance and the realities of the West, as Davy Crockett stories and tales of cowboys often portrayed an idealized view. Even lore of the infamous outlaw Jesse James depicts a complex character that was both admired and loathed in his day, while the legendary Pony Express is shown to have been a short-lived venture that operated for only 18 months. Similarly, the widespread public fascination in the 19th century with Native American culture and artifacts, even as the U.S. government worked to eradicate traditional Indian communities, is examined.

The Western Pursuit concludes with a look at how the history of the West was further codified in the twentieth century by Hollywood film studios. "It is important to remember that the people presented in this exhibition were dreamers," said Mr. Rendell. "In fact, the American West still inspires modern-day dreams in industry, education, and business. This is the story of the pursuit of dreams. You could say it is the story of human nature itself."

We capped the evening off with private drinks in the lounge and conversation. It was delightful. Boy did it make me miss living in the City.

I just missed my 7:10 train home so I had to console myself with a glass of Champagne with a friend at a restaurant bar in the PanAm (not called that anymore but I intend to keep calling it that) Building. And to top it all off, the 28 year old bartender, a delightful young woman who is an excellent judge of men, flirted with me. A lot.

Some nights just make the day totally worthwhile.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:11 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Books and manuscripts are interesting things, I think. I spend way too much of my day reading things in electronic form. Just pixels on a screen arranged to form letters or images all to convey information. It is a rather cold and lifeless experience. To me, reading online can never replace the book. The book is a much fuller experience. The heft of it, the feeling of the papers on your fingers, the sound it makes when you turn the page, the slippery cover of a new book, the excitement of turning the page. Reading a book is tactile. Reading a screen is not.

Older books are more tactile still because they also smell different. The bindings are often nicer, too. There is something quite wonderful about a nice binding.

I have been thinking, idly, about old books and manuscripts of late. About the attraction they hold for so many collectors. Heck, even used books can become an obsession for some. Ever been to the Strand in NYC? Or browse the book sellers along the Seine in Paris? Addictive, I tell you.

But none of this would have been possible without the invention of moveable type and the printing press. Without Gutenberg, who can say just how we'd be transmitting information and ideas to large numbers of people. I don't think it's a stretch to say that Gutenberg made our world possible and without him, the world would be completely different.

At least, that's what I was thinking the other day when I found myself in the NY Public Library (Main Branch, 41st and 5th), very near my office, all by myself, except for a guard, contemplating the first Gutenberg Bible to make its way to these fair shores. They have it on display at the library. I stood there, all alone, and contemplated the page printed in 1455, the page that changed the world.

Go see it if you can. It's on display until the end of the year. I think it may be the most important thing ever to happen. If you disagree, I'm happy to debate it.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:59 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Did you know that light bulbs used in the NY City transit system screw in counter-clock wise? Most light bulbs screw in clock wise. This means that if you steal a light bulb out of the subway, you can't use it at home.

And no, I did not learn this little fact by trying it out for myself. My father told me. I don't know if he learned it from experience, but you never know and I didn't ask.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:22 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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NOTE: I wrote the below post on Monday, July 11, at around 9:00 in the morning. Internet is down at work so I canÂ’t post it.

An episode. What an innocuous word, episode. It might just mean that the next installment of whatever vacuous television show currently in vogue is due to be aired. Or it might mean something far worse. It might mean a sudden and unexpected incident or manifestation of deterioration.

The latter meaning is what I am referring to. Or rather, what the doctors were referring to when my grandfather was hospitalized again this weekend. The medical types attribute it to an episode. All by itself, that word means nothing. It certainly doesnÂ’t function as a word should. It does nothing to explain or elucidate. Indeed, if anything, it invites further words, questions, demands for understanding. I suppose, as words go, it is a flag word in the medical community. By flag word, I mean a word that should stand up on the page and look like a big flag waving and telling the reader, hey, stop and inquire here.

He slumped over into his lunch on Saturday. He was confused. He has, in the last six weeks, lost 10% of his body weight. He lacked the strength, all of a sudden, to keep his head up. This from a man who played fullback on the Harvard Freshman team in the 1930's. He didnÂ’t know where he was. He told people, when asked, that he thought he was in Texas or Boston or Norway. ItÂ’s like heÂ’s already gone. My uncle E was with him. E is a psychiatrist and lives in California. Lots of business for shrinks in California, I gather. E is a lovely man, very bright, very compassionate. IÂ’m glad he was there to ride herd on things.

E dined with us on Sunday night. After dinner was over, he pulled me to one side and he told me that my name appeared on certain legal documents for my grandfather. I didn’t know what he was talking about. E is my grandfather’s health care proxy and also holds his durable power of attorney. E explained that I was selected by my grandfather to be the backup on both of these documents. Upshot? If my uncle is unavailable and there is a question about whether my grandfather is to be intubated, that decision will be mine to make. When my uncle asked my grandfather if he had discussed this with me, my grandfather told him, no, but that “RP is incorruptible”. I gather that is a reference to the fact that with a durable power of attorney, I could sell his house if I wanted to.

I was and am flabbergasted. E pointed out to me that this decision by my grandfather, taken some time ago, might be regarded as very sensitive in the family and was otherwise not generally known and maybe, unless circumstances required, might be better left unknown. I couldnÂ’t agree more. My grandfather has three children and six grandchildren. I think it would cause hard feelings if it was known that I was picked instead of, say, his other son. On the other hand, I feel immensely honored to have been so trusted by this man who I admire above all others. There isnÂ’t much more to say about that. Except, maybe, that I am nervous about ever having to make a decision about whether, say, heroic measures should be used to preserve my grandfatherÂ’s life. WeÂ’ve never spoken about it, he and I. I wish he had initiated that conversation since he had picked me to make that decision, under certain circumstances. I wish I knew more about his wishes. Especially now, when my uncle tells me that my grandfather lacks the competence to make these decisions or to even have the conversation.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t have moments of heartrending lucidity. Saturday night, in the middle of his “episode”, he reached for my uncle’s hand and said to him, “E, it is very hard coming into this world and it is equally hard to go out of it”. I cried, just a little, when my uncle told me this. It was like the curtain got pulled back for just a moment and my grandfather was able to peer out and report back. And we were able to get a glimpse of how it is on the inside for him, said with his usual devastating understatement. He’s dying, or at least thinks he is, and in that moment communicated that he knew it. It must be a terrible thing to be able to contemplate, at a leisurely pace, your own mortality as something more than a distant philosophical construct. To lay there and review your life, weighing the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, and consider its cessation. No more kisses from children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. No more responsibility to provide, to protect, to act as pater familias, to be the head of a family.

Of course, because of the dementia, I gather that these moments are few. But I guess that while he does have them, he puts them to good use, as evidenced by his comment to my uncle.

IÂ’m glad that we went over on Friday night with my parents and my children. Four generations in his room at the rehab facility. We gathered, at my suggestion, to celebrate Shabbat with him. My wife brought candle sticks and matches and I bought challah. He sat in his wheel chair and joined us in the prayers over the bread and the kindling of the Sabbath lights. He ate his piece of challah. My dad made him.

The eating thing, or not eating thing, according to my uncle is a combination of three things which suppress appetite: pain; pain killing medication; and depression. All of which lead to weight loss and to muscle loss. This leads to loss of mobility and makes him more suceptible to infection and less able to fight off an infection if it comes. According to my uncle, this is what could end his life.

Still, hope is not over. My mother says that while she is hopeful, she is not optimistic. She spoke to him this morning and he told her that heÂ’s ready for this bad luck to be over. If thatÂ’s true, maybe he hasnÂ’t given up fighting. My uncle thinks my grandfather is at the point of no return, or close to it. They are going to put in a feeding tube to bring his weight back up. If they can, and he has the will to come back, it might work. As my mother said to me this morning, if he doesnÂ’t want to come back, they wonÂ’t be able to bring him back.

IÂ’m glad we saw him on Friday night. IÂ’m glad I picked up my son and held him so that he could give my grandfather a kiss goodnight. Thinking about that now, actually, is making me choke up. So, I think IÂ’ll stop writing now.

I have my fingers crossed. I just donÂ’t know if it will do any good.

By the way, assuming you went this far, I am not re-reading this before posting it. I donÂ’t think I can, frankly.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:07 PM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
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My entry on London yesterday sparked an argument on my comment board. Fair enough. We're all adults and can handle the bruising comment and the rough and tumble free exchange of ideas.

But when it comes to a reaction to what happened in London, Mia said it best. Go read her Fuck Off Letter. I have nothing to add but that I found it inspirational.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:43 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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We all take things for granted. Basic things, simple things. It's normal, isn't it? You live in a routine, for the most part, and the more routine, the more dependable the thing is, the more you stop noticing it. For instance, you don't really notice each time you take a breath, do you? You don't notice the pavement you walk on, unless you trip because the frost heave has caused the pavement to twist or buckle, right? You expect the pavement to be relatively uniform in height and so you get accustomed to lifting your feet a predictable number of inches off the ground with each step. Then you stumble because the height has changed, even just a little bit.

Routine can be good like that. It can, at its best, free up your mind for other things. When you're walking, you can be thinking about anything you want because you already know that the pavement doesn't require anything even close to your full attention to be able to keep on moving along.

I like routine. No, that's too much. I am comforted by routine but I crave something else other than routine.

Ok. This damn post is going off in two or three different directions, none of which were intended when I began to click away at the keyboard.

Let me return to my first thought and leave routine and the pluses and minuses thereof alone for a bit.

What else do I take for granted? The sun coming up, the light turning on when I hit the switch, the chair supporting my weight when I sit in it, a dial tone when I pick up the phone, that my body will move when I will it to. Ah, the last one. My body moving.

Body moving is partially about health. Health is something that too many of us take for granted. And if we don't take it for granted, we only pay it lip service. We assume that our joints will work and our body will move when we command it to. We assume that and we take it for granted. Really. When was the last time you thought about moving your leg, or standing up when you were seated. When was the last time you traced your movments, slowly, to see what actually was happening? Probably not recently, if ever.

You learn something, it works, you take it for granted that it will work that way forever.

I took my children yesterday to various medical appointments. The Boy Child had his 2.5 year check up. The "Dock-her" said he was perfect. When we got home from the appointment, the Boy Child clutching his new matchbox truck or, if he's speaking Norwegian, his "ah-ah bil", ran around showing his grandmother and his sister his "art" (heart) because the dock-her listened to it, his "ouchie" because the "mommy" (nurse) gave him a shot, and his band-aid. For the record, he gained weight despite his steadfast refusal to eat and he grew. He is now 29 pounds and stands 36.25 inches tall. This puts him in the 48th percentile for weight and the 52nd for height. Like the dock-her said, perfect.

The Girl Child had a dental check up. It went just fine, as it should. She was brave, did not cry, and selected an extra toy out of the box to bring home for her brother. She also, I think for the first time, consciously spoke to me in Norwegian to avoid other people understanding what we were talking about. I think she is beginning to grasp the notion that Norwegian can be her secret language and I think she likes it. We had, by the way, the most overqualified dental assistant ever. She was a dentist herself, just graduated from dental school and temping until her post-doc program starts at NYU Dental in the fall.

On the way home, we drove past a cemetery and she had a lot of questions about death, dead people, how they were buried and why. She also wanted to stop by and visit her great-grandfather, about whom I've written before.

He is in his 90's and is a most impressive man. He's also someone who never seems to take anything for granted, not the important things, not his mind or the small pleasures vouchsafed us by our creator -- the joy of a ripe summer tomato, for instance.

But his mind is going. It's cloaked. His doctors told my mother and my uncle (a shrink) that he is suffering from mild to moderate dementia. The things he has taken for granted, that we have all taken for granted, are no longer to be treated so. He is disappearing before our eyes.

It was quite a contrast yesterday, my children in perfect health and my grandfather at the end of his.

Here's the rub for me. He is not eating and I understand that. This broken hip and confusion of the mind is robbing him of his dignity and pride. He has loads of both. I understand his not wanting to live without them. But you know what? I miss him already.

While I had the Girl Child at the dentist, my wife visited my grandfather with the Boy Child. She told me later that my grandfather's face lit up when the Boy Child kissed him. It's these little things, like kisses, that we ought not to take for granted.

You can't live your life taking note of every single thing. But every now and again, examine your world and marvel at it. It will do you good, I bet.

Sorry if this one turns out to be as confused a mess as it felt while I wrote it. But, you take the good with the bad, right? Even if the bad is a really long post.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:33 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I am totally numb with the news from London. I used to live there and I know the places those cowards bombed.

Helen, thank goodness, was not in London today.

May God's mercy and light shine down today on London.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:23 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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I am back at work today for the first day in a week (feels like a month) and back blogging for the first time in a week (feels like a couple of months).

Thanks for all the lovely comments you all left on my last post regarding the move. I'll try to update below. But since this isn't really a journal, I'm just going to do it in a series of random observations and vignettes, as is my wont, rather than tell a blow by blow account.

*We got packed up and moved out. I learned a little something about myself during that process. I packed over 50 boxes of books but only 2 boxes of DVD/Video tapes.

*I did buy a bottle of Champagne for the buyers of my house. I couldn't not. Karma, etc.

*Watching all your stuff disappear into boxes and then loaded on a truck is both scary and liberating. All the important stuff is with me: my family. The rest could just totally disappear and, sure, there would be times I'd have pangs of regret for certain sentimental items, but by and large I think it would not be a big deal. That's the thing about sentimental items. You have them because they evoke memories and the memories are the things that are precious, not the items in and of themselves. I have always opted for the things that evoke memories and not just the things for having things.

*I am a sentimental person. I don't do change well. I really don't. And yet, I have nothing but relief and happiness to be out of that house. Really. Couldn't be happier. I always like to be the last person out of whatever place we're living in. I like to be the one to lock the door for the last time and savor the poignancy of saying goodbye to a place. No poingancy here. Except for a moment. It was Wednesday. The movers had loaded everything out. I was alone in the house waiting for the cable guy to come pick up the cable box. The heavens had opened up. Rain was pouring down and all I could do was sit in the little window seat, waiting for the cable guy, hoping fervently that no new leaks would appear and that this damn house would let me go. I sat there, happy in my no sadness about leaving state, and then I noticed that the glass on the front window overlooking the street was smeared with marks. And then I had a pang. The marks were made by my children as they would wave to whoever was leaving. They would kneel on the window seat and blow kisses and wave and lean against the glass and smear it and streak it with their palms and fingers. I looked at the rain falling through the smears and listened to the rain echoing in the empty house and just for a moment, I was sad about leaving. After all, we brought our son home to this house. And then I remembered, I was bringing my son with me. No need to be sad.

*Almost every day last week I got to peek in, while the movers took lunch break, at my daughter who was at camp at the local beach club we belong to. It was her first summer there. I visited her life every day. See, as a working parent, I don't share much of my child's life. She lives her life -- at school or camp or play -- and I live mine at work. Our lives intersect for a couple of hours a day, at best. So observing her at play at camp, without her noticing on one occasion, was like a really sinful dessert. I savored it. I ate up the expression on her face as she took in the fact that I was where she did not expect to see me. I also stumbled on a truth. Science has said that the most attractive, the sweetest sound to any person is the sound of their own name. Untrue. The sweetest sound is someone else calling the name of my child. I loved listening to her counselor call her name while they had beach play time.

*The close on the house we were selling was easy. It was nice to feel rich for an evening. The lawyer for the other side was an hour late due to a flat tire.

*The close on the house we were buying was not easy. Our closing statement required 45 minutes to review to make sure it was correct. The lawyer for the sellers was on time but was a slime ball. We found water in the basement in the utility area where water had not been seen previously. That made me unhappy. I had, happily, thought to bring with me my digital camera and took a picture of the seepage. This became important later. We argued about the water. The closing took 5.5 hours. I wanted money in escrow in case it was a serious problem. The sellers did not want money in escrow. Then the lawyer told me that the basement may be covered by a warranty from Basement Systems (“BS”). Fine, I said, check with the seller. And then we had the following conversation when he (Charley) returned:

Charley: I checked with the sellers. The basement is covered by a 25 year warranty from BS.

Me: [thinking it over] Charley, would appear to have left an unfortunate ambiguity in the conversation. Did BS do work in the utility portion of the basement such that the warranty runs to that portion?

Charley: [long pause] No. [bullshit, right? I mean, that was the impression he was trying to finesse his way into, to mislead me into believing, right?]

Me: So, now I have to ask, with respect to the remainder of the basement, are we now in year 26 of that warranty?

Charley: [offended] No!

SellersÂ’ Broker to me: What do you do for a living?

Me: IÂ’m an attorney and I do complex corporate litigation. [turning to Charley]. But Charley already figured that out, right Charley?

Charley: [nodding his head] Yes, I did.

Upshot? Money is being held in escrow pending my satisfaction concerning the water.

We were exhausted at the end of the close.

*Our contractor was in by Saturday and the painting has started. I think, tentatively, that IÂ’m going to love the new house. Remember, not big on change, me. So I am kind of shocked I canÂ’t seem to locate any buyerÂ’s remorse. I think my wife is more shocked.

*Picked up a nasty cold right in the middle of this. I think it was from the stress just breaking my body down.

*The weekend was spent at the beach. I swam out to the float the club keeps in the middle of the Sound and lay out on it for 15 minutes or so while it rocked in the waves. I felt safe and protected out there. Odd, no? I think it had something to do with the motion and the sound and the light. I heart the ocean. Deeply. I used to think I preferred the mountains. I was wrong.

*We have all taken up residence at my parents. My wife and I are on an air mattress in my old room and the kids are in my sister’s old room. The Boy Child chatters at night and the Girl Child complains that his noise is “disturbing” her. I can hear her at night telling him to be quiet.

*The Boy Child is 110% stubborn mixed with the terrible two’s. He is unmovable and willing to push every single issue to the brink. I admire this “damn the consequences” attitude. He stands there, refusing to listen, and when the tone of my voice gets more serious, the thumb goes in his mouth and he starts sucking furiously as he continues to defy. The trick I face is how to get him to listen without doing anything to break his spirit. This requires more thought than I ever anticipated.

*I hate being back at the office. I miss my kids. This is not new, mind you. It is, rather, a constant refrain running quietly in the background.

*What else do I want to remember about this week? Beats me, right now. If I think of anything else, IÂ’ll update.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:58 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
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1 welcome back, RP! We missed you! Glad the move was relatively painless and hope you get over your cold quickly.

Posted by: GrammarQueen at July 05, 2005 01:18 PM (kqNmk)

2 Welcome back! I have been checking in to see when things would be "winding down", in quotes since things don't sound entirely wound down... I am in Nashville, and am seriously ramping up! I will have to fill you in on some of the fun details. Like going ot pick up my wedding dress and they hadn't even started the alterations, ha. give my best to the family, and good luck with the next few weeks of work done on the house! Hope your cold gets better soon!

Posted by: Mandalei at July 05, 2005 01:43 PM (pI0en)

3 I've missed your posts, RP, and delighted to see you back. Perhaps I'm hormonal today, but your comments about the kids -- the smudges on the windows, and watching your daughter in secret -- had my eyes filling with tears. Even living as a WAHM, spending every day with my daughter, I still get the same thrill from listening to her babble to herself and watching her play when she doesn't know I'm looking. Good for you on the basement issues, but I wouldn't have expected any less. Hmmm...perhaps I should reinstate my Colorado license. With your son, the best you can do is to follow your instincts more than your mind -- that, and any time you do lay down the law: love him, love him, love him. Maya is not to that stage (yet), but when she wants something she's not allowed to touch, I tell her no, and tell her why. She doesn't understand yet, but I want her to question everything, unlike how I was as a child!

Posted by: Allison at July 05, 2005 02:04 PM (ddjrP)

4 Glad to hear you are safely moved in, hope the water turns out to be no problem, hope your cold is better quickly, and most of all, I'm glad to be reading GC & BC stories again.

Posted by: nic at July 05, 2005 02:48 PM (IBRcA)

5 Hey, really nice to have you back! I'm glad your move went pretty well and really enjoyed the conversation where it turned out that you are a lawyer. Once again... weclome back!

Posted by: Hannah at July 05, 2005 03:11 PM (DlnyL)

6 "What do you do for a living?" At that point, I think that was the consummate Stupid Question Of All Time. Hee Hee. Glad to see yer back!

Posted by: Mark at July 05, 2005 09:07 PM (2B9Tj)

7 Welcome Home! So glad you are back, missed you loads.

Posted by: Mia at July 05, 2005 09:45 PM (ya59J)

8 Welcome back! We missed you!

Posted by: Kathy at July 05, 2005 11:44 PM (i+tYQ)

9 Welcome back, glad to hear the move went well and that you got to spend some time with your children.

Posted by: Madame Chiang at July 06, 2005 12:31 AM (YAEN3)

10 Welcome home...back to blogging and to your new house. I can totally sympathize. I love the bit about how you had so many more books than DVDs/Videos. Same thing here. I'm so glad someone else packed for us last time. It was hard enough UNpacking the books.

Posted by: Linda at July 06, 2005 12:18 PM (4gch1)

11 I so look forward to your sharing these glimpses of your life and your often poignant and thought-provoking observations. You have been missed.

Posted by: Christina at July 06, 2005 01:51 PM (hDY55)

12 now more fun begins.. just something I read about work: "Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support! group for that It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar." --Drew Carey

Posted by: dr pants at July 06, 2005 05:44 PM (fWw9F)

13 I continue to wish you well on Phase 3 of this move... What a sweet & touching parting memory you had with the old house...what a nightmarish scene the closing on the new. I acted as my own counsel on the closing of my apartment (by default - my lawyer was in an accident) and I swore I would never do it that again. I'm still glad I bought my apt., but the one area where I knew I was taking a calculated risk came back to bite me. I'm glad you held firm on the escrow, unbelievable how they were trying to screw w/you till the end. I've learned a great many things from you during this process and I will be using them when I eventually decide to trade in for a home. I'm glad that in the process you had those wonderful stolen moments with the children. You echoed, eloquently I might add, the angst of every working parent. Those that have argued about quality vs. quantity don't realize there are some of us who wish things were altogether different; easier, in terms of having more of those precious moments, and less of the inner conflict that comes at resuming old routines after a vacation. Sigh! I identify/relate completely. Especially, returning to work after two month hiatus. Glad your back!

Posted by: michele at July 07, 2005 12:33 AM (ht2RK)

14 You sound exhausted a bit, RP. Hope you can find some time to just kick back and relax in the very near future. You're due.

Posted by: Jennifer at July 07, 2005 09:58 PM (ydXhk)

15 ...and if yer free Tuesday the 12th: Ted, Stephen and I are gathering for lunch for the second annual New England Munuvian Blogger Bash. Looks like we'll be chowing on Mexican dishes at Baja's up in Milford for an hour (or two). Can ye make it?

Posted by: Tuning Spork at July 07, 2005 11:47 PM (kd+5c)

16 Excellent commentary. Hehe. On the 3rd to last item - get low. You can't believe the difference in how they listen to you if you take the time / make the effort to get down at an eye to eye level. I'm not sure if it's because you're closer, because they know you're serious or because it shows you can meet them half way. Probably a combo of all that and a bunch more. For some reason it totally wipes out the eye-to-eye benefit if you hold them in any way or have them on the lap when you try to talk to them. Laps are good for comforting, not so good for talking.

Posted by: Jim at July 12, 2005 12:17 PM (tyQ8y)

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I stand looking into the abyss and it is looking back at me. It is contained within the confines of a corrugated cardboard box.

Monday and Tuesday, the movers come to pack us for our move. Before that, Saturday and Sunday, I must scurry around the house frantically packing up all the valuables I can find to bring them over to my parents' house. I also have to get clothes and things packed for a 2-3 week sleep over at my parents' house. My parents are being very nice about the fact that a hotel for that time would be 6-8 grand and it just ain't in the budget.

Wednesday, the movers remove us from the house.

Thursday afternoon, we sell the house.

Friday, we buy the new house.

If you've ever done this before, you know that there are more than a few places where these well laid plans could go awry.

Perforce, blogging will be somewhere between light and none. Consumption of rum in the evenings may be a bit higher. Just a guess, of course, but a good guess just the same.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:40 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
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1 just come back to the photo of the house and remember it will all be worth it oh, and rum...sounds wonderful (please ignore the time i posted this comment...right now most of my hours run together. rum at 10:15 am, with a 4 week old in the house, sounds perfect)

Posted by: sn at June 25, 2005 10:16 AM (6FCAy)

2 Good luck with this grand adventure. ; )

Posted by: Christina at June 25, 2005 11:28 AM (QnpBk)

3 Good luck. Hope everything goes as planned.

Posted by: owlish at June 25, 2005 01:42 PM (QqkkN)

4 I feel your pain. Good luck with everything! Will keep the fingers and toes crossed that everything happens as it should.

Posted by: Kathy at June 25, 2005 02:33 PM (yCuZO)

5 Here's strong postive thoughts that everything is going to go exactly on schedule. Or, if not, because things will turn out for the better. (((RP and Famille))) Keep us posted

Posted by: Elizabeth at June 25, 2005 09:54 PM (+OvEk)

6 Happy Housewarming!!!!

Posted by: Mark at June 25, 2005 10:29 PM (DL/ki)

7 Fingers crossed that all your problems be only little ones that you handle with good grace and humour. Good Luck.

Posted by: Mia at June 25, 2005 10:33 PM (RGD0+)

8 RP, hope all goes well and that the only bumps and humps are the corrugations in the packing boxes.

Posted by: Roberta S at June 26, 2005 09:00 PM (Bi6EX)

9 Save me the boxes...I may be needing them soon.

Posted by: Howard at June 26, 2005 10:11 PM (Zdiou)

10 Having been through the moving thing a time or twelve, you have my sympathies. The flipside, of course, is the thrill and excitement. All will be well. Eventually. Rum. And patience.

Posted by: Jennifer at June 26, 2005 10:16 PM (ydXhk)

11 When your mortgage agent or bank says at the last minute, "Oh, by the way, we forget to mention we need X document, resist the temptation to scream and throw objects at them. Seriously, good luck. Everything involved in buying a new house and moving is so stressful, but thankfully, when it's over, you'll have a beautiful home.

Posted by: Peggy at June 27, 2005 11:19 AM (IN1cG)

12 Id recommend consuming large quantities of rum prior to speaking with your mortgage agent or banker. Being in a drunken stupor should help curb the urges to strangle your mortgage agent and / or banker should they ask for documents at the last minute as Peggy suggests. Then if the urges to strangle them to become overbearing you can at least say, whoops must have been the rum talking, so sorry.

Posted by: phin at June 27, 2005 12:10 PM (Xvpen)

13 I raise my apple juice and say Slante! my friend. It will be hectic, no doubt, but soooo worth it, in the long run. Happy New Home, m'dear! xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 27, 2005 02:10 PM (nwEQH)

14 Good luck with everything, I've got my fingers crossed for you.

Posted by: Hannah at June 27, 2005 04:18 PM (DlnyL)

15 Throw or give away as much as you can. It may feel weird at first, but then it becomes enlightening.

Posted by: dr pants at June 27, 2005 06:51 PM (oUJQ0)

16 I'd say have fun but we did this almost three years ago and still don't have everything unpacked. Luckily we weren't moving far and the folks who bought our house had a little leeway to give us on the move. We had to be out 48 hours after the closing.

Posted by: Stephen Macklin at June 27, 2005 07:54 PM (ics4u)

17 Good luck with the move!! I agree with Dr. Pants toss your stuff out until you think nothing will be left. Remember to love your family bunches during this time of duress.

Posted by: Azalea at June 28, 2005 01:34 PM (hRxUm)

18 Hope everything is going smoothly at the ol' folks' home. Is it the house you grew up in? Are you in your old room? Is the girlchild saying weird things all day?

Posted by: Tuning Spork at June 29, 2005 11:56 PM (xs9jx)

19 If you've ever done this before... Unfortunately all too recently. We went into temporary housing for 3 weeks to the cost of about 4K. You do what you have to do, you know? I'm glad you're able to stay with your parents. I hope that everything is going well with no hitches. I look forward to seeing you back on here soon. Lots of loving thoughts to you and the fam.

Posted by: Linda at July 04, 2005 07:46 AM (4gch1)

20 I can't believe how far behind I am in my blogreading. I hope everything went smoothly! (Yeah, I know it's already completed and I could just scan up a bit to see how things went but that is just too much like flipping to the last page of a mystery novel.)

Posted by: Jim at July 12, 2005 12:09 PM (tyQ8y)

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Sometimes I am amused by my colleagues, all of whom are wicked smart. Here is the comment made by one of the senior guys when he changed a "will" in a letter I drafted to a "should".

I want it to be unclear whether it is "should" in the normative sense or "should" in the predictive sense.

Are we all clear?

I walked out of his office with a small smile on my face. The games we lawyers play sometimes.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:44 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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1 Heya lawyerman This is off topic but what do you think about this ruling in Connecticut about the Supreme Court ruling 5-4 in favor of eminent domain, favoring the Pfizer corporation? Worldchanging.com - Land rights hits home

Posted by: Oorgo at June 23, 2005 05:31 PM (lM0qs)

2 Wicked smart or just wicked? (Certainly elegant.) If it were a contract, no doubt it should (normatively and predictively) also be armed with the clause that suspends the interpretive rule of ambiguities being construed against the drafter. Only a lawyer would, indeed...cheers.

Posted by: Chan S. at June 23, 2005 06:02 PM (7kycG)

3 Oh, you whacky lawyers and your knee-slapping sense of humour!!!! I am not ashamed to admit that I don't get the joke. Would you like to hear a construction-oriented joke? Liuke the one about the guy who ordered Low-E glass instead of regular glass in his windows? It's a real scream!!!

Posted by: Mark at June 23, 2005 10:20 PM (eE0oW)

4 Dare I ask how much you charge an hour to deal with this sort of thing?

Posted by: Kathy at June 24, 2005 10:54 AM (yCuZO)

5 I for one am all about the "wickedness"

Posted by: Wicked H at June 24, 2005 12:08 PM (BQhBn)

6 I would have just thrown a thesaurus at him. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 24, 2005 01:14 PM (nwEQH)

7 LOL Funfun. By the way, my new blog is at www.confuzzled.nl Hope you come look!

Posted by: Hannah at June 25, 2005 03:24 AM (DlnyL)

8 Great, now I really feel like an idiot. Can I get in on the joke, too?

Posted by: Mark at June 25, 2005 10:29 PM (DL/ki)

9 I just want to know what the original sentence was just for to find out how the normative and predictive senses of "should" make a difference to that particular sentence. If you wrote "will" then you obviously meant the predictive sense. Why does your colleague want it so foggy? Can you tell us? Can ya, huh?

Posted by: Tuning Spork at June 30, 2005 12:05 AM (xs9jx)

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I lack inspiration today. Well, no, that isn't true. I lack the energy to write a decent post today.

I was up at around 3:00 this morning, stressed by all the shit that needs organizing and attention as we slide faster and faster to the move. This thing, this move, this sale/purchase of old house and new house, this is a very intricate dance with lots of small pieces, all crucial, requiring coordination.

By the way, seems to me I never showed anyone what the new house looks like. Since I can't really come up with a decent post:

In the meantime, I spend my day chipping away at the to-do list email I sent myself this morning at around 4:00. I am not doing any legal work today. Just moving stuff. Consequently, I have a greater sense of accomplishment today than I have had in some time.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:05 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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1 Ooooooh. That is gorgeous! Lots of room for the GC and BC to run around and get nuts.

Posted by: Kathy at June 22, 2005 02:15 PM (yCuZO)

2 Wow! You are living in a mansion!

Posted by: Rachel Ann at June 22, 2005 05:22 PM (eMdPz)

3 Howard wants to know which room belongs to the Nanny...oh wait. He has replaced her with the Smoothie "friend". Never mind. Gorgeous digs RP, hopefully the selling/moving stress will end soon.

Posted by: Wicked H at June 22, 2005 07:29 PM (BQhBn)

4 Which of those windows is my room???

Posted by: Mark at June 22, 2005 08:55 PM (eE0oW)

5 Holy shit...That's beautiful. And, uh, which room is the nanny's? Yes, things are still awesome with the Smoothie friend, but, uh, when I come visit, I need to make sure I don't wander in there. Accidentally, of course. Wicked, you crack me up. :-)

Posted by: Howard at June 22, 2005 09:42 PM (zjhWp)

6 That is beautiful. [Almost] makes me hesitate to post a pic of my new house when ready. Congratulations and best wishes for a smooth move.

Posted by: JohnL at June 23, 2005 12:30 AM (gplif)

7 Dream. House. Insanely jealous. Would trade you crazy days. Must stop channeling Shatner. GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL LOVELY !! Welcome home.

Posted by: Margi at June 23, 2005 12:50 AM (rqiSz)

8 Makes me think twice about posting pics of our almost-finished master shower. But i'm going to anyway. RP - Primer here on posting pics on MT???

Posted by: Mark at June 23, 2005 10:03 AM (eE0oW)

9 looks like it will all be worth it.

Posted by: sn at June 23, 2005 12:11 PM (6FCAy)

10 Um, can anyone say...Palace? Wasn't that the house used in "Father of the Bride"? Outstanding. Just outstanding. You get elected to the board of a fantastic institution (you can be honest with us-it's the Mr. Universe pageant, isn't it? Come on now. We know that secretly you're a hot muscly guy)! and have a wonderful family and now a STUNNING home! *sigh* To have your nice life....

Posted by: Helen at June 23, 2005 01:01 PM (t0Yic)

11 Wow! Beautiful!

Posted by: Amber at June 23, 2005 01:20 PM (zQE5D)

12 Please accept cyber-bread, salt and wine for the new abode. Great looking house! Best of luck with the move!

Posted by: Mark C N Sullivan at June 24, 2005 08:14 AM (vAenG)

13 Helen -- it just occurred to me. See all that vast expanse of snow? Yeah. This time of year, that's LAWN, baby. I think someone is ALSO going to need a riding lawn mower! LOLLL!!

Posted by: Margi at June 24, 2005 01:16 PM (nwEQH)

14 O. M. G! My absolute dream house. Who says good things don't happen to good people?!!? I swear by all that is chocolate, you are about to move into a Doris Day movie. (Wave to New Canaan for me )

Posted by: Elizabeth at June 25, 2005 09:56 PM (+OvEk)

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I was due, I figured. Due for something nice to happen to me. It feels like it has been a long, hot and dry spell since the last soothing balm was applied to my sense of self. The drought is over.

Today, to my surprise, I was elected to the Board of an institution with which I have been involved for some years. I have only been active for the last couple of years and didn't imagine this happening for many years to come, if ever. I was shocked. I am being appointed to serve out the term of someone who recently died. I am probably the youngest person on the Board by some 10-15 years. To use an old English expression, I was gobsmacked by the call. The President of the Board assured me that no one on the Board was drinking at the time this decision was made. I asked. He also said my appointment was unanimous. I am to serve out the term of the man I am replacing and then I will be re-nominated to another three year term, or so the normal course goes, assuming I don't screw up too badly. You never know, of course. I am capable of pretty spectacular screw ups.

Still. What a lovely surprise and quite an honor.

Sorry I can't name the institution, but that's what happens when you blog in secret. You have to be a bit coy sometimes.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 05:31 PM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
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I went back yesterday, on Fathers' Day, to visit my grandfather again at the rehab facility to spend a little time with him on the holiday. See two entries below this one to understand the background.

Unfortunately, he was napping and I did not want to wake him. Instead, I sat with him. I settled into the vinyl (?) covered armchair which squeaked like vinyl does when I sat in it and I watched him sleep for about 20 minutes before I wrote him a note telling him I had been there and then I left.

It was sort of peaceful. He lay there on his back and frightened me a little bit with his breathing, which seemed rapid and shallow, not deep and restful like it ought to be for a nap. He was restless in his sleep, twitching. I wonder if he was in pain. It was a lot like watching a baby sleep. They move a lot and breath in ways that can be scary.

I just sat there and let the sounds of the place wash over me as I contemplated my grandfather's face and his body. He has aged so much, so quickly. He is less. He is not eating and the nurses are concerned. One has told my father that she thinks my grandfather has made a conscious decision to not eat. If true, I don't know what we can do about it. But he has lost weight. He was once very powerful, broad in the shoulders and deep in the chest, like he was when he played fullback on the Harvard Freshman team in 1934. He never had his nose fixed from when it was broken in those days. The thing that intrigued me, as I sat there watching him sleep, was that even though he has shrunk, his hands are still large. The hands don't change and maybe they give you clues about the body they used to be attached to. Parenthetically, hands are very hard for painters to paint correctly. They are complicated little things.

I think that the things you both value and take for granted as you grow older, you lose when you get very old. Privacy is the big one. Not just the privacy you get when you shut the door, but the privacy of silence. It's never quiet at the rehab facility and this is a pretty swank place, too. Still, you hear other televisions, you hear other conversations, you hear other people moaning. You can't lock it out. Noise is a physical assault as it manifests itself in sound waves that crash against your inner ear and cause the ears to vibrate. You don't have the means to protect yourself from that assault. You have no privacy. Unless your hearing is impaired, a mixed blessing under the circumstances.

I left him there, asleep, his hands clasped over his once broad chest. I left him a note telling him that I loved him and wishing him a happy fathers' day.

I spoke to the head nurse about the disassociation of yesterday (again, see two posts below) and she took notes and promised that the doctor would be made aware of it and would evaluate him.

I didn't cry. But it was very close. Close enough, I suppose, that the nurse tried to comfort me.

Underlying all of this, you know, is the thought, the hope, the belief that he's going to snap out of it and get better and be his old self again. That maybe he's just confused because of the painkillers. Any other result I cannot bear to contemplate. And so I don't. I choose not to.

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Two funny exchanges with the Girl Child this weekend:

1. The phone rings but stops ringing by the time I get to it to pick it up. The Girl Child looks at me and the phone and simply utters, grimly: "The buttheads".

Wonder where she picked that phrase up from *looking around innocently*.

2. At dinner last night with my father, the Girl Child runs off to play with her new best friend, another 4 year old girl. After a bit of running around, the Girl Child comes back with a serious expression and asks, "Mamma, what's my cell phone number?"

For the record, she doesn't have one.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:51 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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How much of your time do you spend trying to answer the question of who you are, how do you know you exist, what defines you? A least some of it, I bet, if you are at all self-reflective. You have also probably spent more time at various points in your life contemplating this question than at other times in your life. But it's always there -- how do you know?

Descartes had a simple answer -- Cogito ergo sum. Je pense donc Je suis. I think therefore I am. Rene wrote it in Latin, first, but I intially heard it in French. He defined his existence by his capacity for thought. Simple, no?

Too simple. I think that you are defined by what others think of you. Do you really exist if no one knows your name or recognizes you? Or are you a ghost, just sort of touching on this plane, temporally. I think you exist because others believe you exist. You are a hero if you are thought of by others as a hero. You are unkind if, etc. See, other people are, among other things, a mirror to reflect your own existence back at you. Without others, you don't exist, except maybe in your own mind and even then, who can really say. Think about it, too much self reflection, too much self contemplation, too much inside your own head and the rest of the world becomes less, or maybe more, but just the same your existence changes. I think.

Moreover, I think that your family is the most important source of you. What do I mean by that? They set the expectations that you try to measure up to, they are the ones from whom you hope to receive praise for your accomplishments, the ones you keep coming back to in order to affirm your growth, physical or other. They are the wellspring, the measuring stick. They confirm your existence and your place in a hiearchy.

What happens if your existence is suddenly called into question by the rest of the world? Or at least by someone very important?

You crumble. At least a little.

That's what happened to me yesterday.

I took the Girl Child to go see my grandfather in his rehabilitation facility where he was recovering from his broken hip.

He didn't know me. He asked me if we were in Texas and I told him no. He asked where we were and I told him -- in the rehab facility in Westchester, NY. He asked me if I was the Secretary of the facility. I told him no and we discussed how long it might take us to get to a mountain in Nevada. He didn't believe me when I told him how long it took.

I felt like crying.

I think that when my grandfather didn't know who I was, my place in the world became less firm. My existence wavered and I realized, if enough important people don't know who I am, I cease to exist.

I am posting this without re-reading. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense, but I wrote this one all for me. I needed to.

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Remember my post from two days ago, about how a strong finish can redeem a whole bad day? It's two posts below this one, if you don't recall it. Well, I was wrong, sometimes your bad day/week can overwhelm your ability to finish.

I'm not really sure where this post is going. All I know for sure is that this has been a very difficult week. I have swung between two opposite poles -- one really enjoying what I do and one loathing what I do so much that I almost walked out (no joke).

Enjoying: it is beyond cavil that it is great fun sitting for three hours with a finance professor who is on everyone's short list for the Nobel Prize and parsing a complicated multi-party international economic transaction in order to stress test your assumptions at each step of the transaction in order to conclude that the transaction was a fraud, ab initio. Seriously. I love that. It was a mix of practical mechanics and theoretical finance conducted at a pretty high level. High enough to make my nose bleed. This was a part of my yesterday. The day before was spent in meetings with the possible plaintiff and his lawyer, the guy who referred the case to me. I feel a smidgeon of guilt for taking their money since it was so much fun, I'd have done it for free.

Detesting: there may have been a mistake made by co-counsel in a case I have. I did not catch the mistake and it may result in great unhappiness. Certainly, I feel like shit. I think it is fixable, but still, there will have to be some quick dancing and some interesting decisions. I have no idea how it will come out. I do know that I have not been very happy about it. How unhappy? Verge of quitting unhappy, anxiety attack symptoms unhappy, heart pounding unhappy (not exaggerating at all), bottom dropping out of stomach unhappy. Why? What if it wasn't a mistake on his part, what if we were getting set up to take a particularly nasty fall? And I didn't catch it. I have been running to try to fix it, but still, there are times and this week is one of those times, I really do hate my job.

Quite the dichotomy, no?

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Margi's two year old grandchild is about to get a new aunt or uncle, sometime in 2006! That ought to make family reunions more interesting. I want to be there the first time the grandchild gets to babysit the new aunt or uncle.

YAY, Margi!

Go over and give them your best wishes, will you, I think Margi would appreciate it.

And Margi's the best. They don't come any finer.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:10 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 You KNOW I'm pregnant -- cuz I'm sitting here, crying. You are the sweetest, RP. I'd hug your neck if I could. It's like a good friend told me in e-mail: "You just couldn't be happy with a new car, huh?" ROFL! No matter how Baby Brain™ takes over, I will still think you're the Bee's Knees and the Cat's Pyjamas. Always. It's just a Mutual Admiration Society around heah. Thank you for your kind note(s) -- they are more appreciated than you know. Much love, xoxo m

Posted by: Margi at June 17, 2005 10:47 AM (nwEQH)

2 Ain't it the shizzle? Margi's knocked up! I can't wait to see what Margi on Mommy Hormones posts, cuz what she posts normally is AWE-SOME! Here's a prayer for a happy outcome

Posted by: Elizabeth at June 17, 2005 01:24 PM (+OvEk)

3 And Margi's the best. They don't come any finer. Truer words were never spoken. I'm so happy for her, I could just bust.

Posted by: Jennifer at June 17, 2005 07:32 PM (MbhV6)

4 I'm bookmarking this post for the days when I'm feeling sorry for myself or just "blue." :: shakes head in wonder :: And you know, by conventional standards, NONE of us "know" each other? Pish posh. I (heart) you people. Bunches and lots. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 20, 2005 04:46 AM (nwEQH)

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