November 04, 2005

This isn't for you, this one

It is for me. Purely for me. I need a moment, a space, a place, where I can be very sad.

You see, I'm not ready. I'm not willing or . . . . I don't know. I'm not prepared to, although I'm going to, take my children with me down to Greenwich Hospital this weekend and say goodbye to my grandfather.

He's had a stroke and has an infection in his heart.

My mother and her brothers had a long discussion with him today. He wants off the medication, on the morphine, and, well, off the planet. On his terms. On his decision.

I realize some may read that to mean he has a suicide urge. I don't know why I'm going to address that since, as I pointed out, this one isn't for you anyway. He doesn't. He just knows, as we all do, that he is very ill and will not get better, will not shake this, will not improve, will no longer have a quality of life to speak of, will no longer what, exactly?

I need a moment. I will not cry at my desk, ok?

Will no longer be able to put the top down in the car like he did when I was a kid in the autumn to look at the leaves; will no longer speak to me in that outrageous half English, half Cambridge, all 1930's Harvard accent;

I'm not ready to finish this right now. I am not ready to reduce to a list, in some electronic form, my precious memories of him. Not yet. I'll have to do it soon. Some of these memories, frankly, go to the absolute core of who I am as a person. They are my touchstones, rubbed a little shiny and smooth at the edges, but they are experiences that have formed me. His influence on my life cannot be overstated.

But I cannot reflect on it all now. No.

Now, I have to go home and celebrate my wedding anniversary today. Well, maybe not celebrate.

I am devastated. I knew that he was going to go one day. And I always worried that if he did, I would collapse, that I would get all hollowed out and slowly deflate. That may still happen, I suppose. Beats me.

I am closing comments for the first time.

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November 01, 2005

Today in history: Me!

Yup, that's right, another year has rolled on by and I am another year older. I refer you, respectfully, to my Today in History edition of last year of this same date, to see what cool things happened and who was born or died on First November.

I have been up since three o'clock this morning. Couldn't sleep for some reason, not really sure why. So I thought I might come down and reflect a little on the year past. I had some big changes and there are more on the horizon. I'd like to review: bought and sold a house; moved to Connecticut; seriously pondered career changes and began the inevitably slow process of effectuating same; watched my much beloved grandfather go from hale and hearty to a bare shell of the once robust and wonderful man he was for all my life; began interacting with my son as he began to talk; had the joy (mixed with terror) of hearing my wife tell me that she was pregnant; was put on the board of an old and august institution; made a couple of new friends; began to exercise every business day; perfected a recipe for black beans that is so good that if you tasted it you'd go home and punch your mama in da mouth (and it is vegetarian, Helen!); went to London all by my lonesome and met Helen; had dinner with Simon; and, through many acts of grace, small and large, had my faith in the essential goodness of man re-affirmed. Oh yeah, I should also add that this was another year in which I learned that the love I had for my wife and children the year before was shallow and insignificant compared with the love I feel for them now.

I don't have any idea, really, what the next year of life may bring for me and for those lives I necessarily touch, and I can't really forecast anything, but just the same, I hope it is a year of growth. I hope it is a year of plenty, in the sense that our little family will grow by one more and that one more, I hope, will be healthy. I hope it is a year of continued good health. I hope it is a year of, if not reasonably good fortune, at least not bad fortune.

There is something deliciously self-indulgent about making yourself a pot of coffee at three o'clock in the morning. I'm going to go back and enjoy it now. As we are now without nanny, as you may have noticed from the post from yesterday, I am going to spend the evening at home. Yes, there will be a good bottle of wine involved but no, it will not be a quiet evening out. Still, sounds like it might be just fine.

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October 28, 2005

The Dilbert Blog

Scott Adams has put up his own blog, talking about, among other things, the creative process of writing Dilbert and what gets rejected and what gets published. Very cool.

Thanks for the tip, Owlish!

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Is this just extra paranoid, or what?

Listening to the radio last night on the way home from the train station. I am such a geek these days that mostly I listen to 880 on the a.m. dial. The all news station. Anyway, they warned us not to hold our credit cards out while standing on line in a store. People with cell phones, they cautioned us, could take pictures of our card and use the information they captured to clone our cards and steal our identities.

Seems a little far fetched to me. Anyone agree with them?

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October 22, 2005

Rainy day at work

I'm chained to my desk on this dreary Saturday, waiting for someone to review a five page memo I just wrote to a client who was just, one week before his wedding, blind sided with an outrageous prenuptial agreement that his wife had been working on with her lawyer for over a month. I read it for the first time last night going home on the train and I garnered strange looks as I exclaimed out loud and profanely about the fairness of this document. So, while I wait, I thought maybe I could stretch the fingers and exercise the mind and blog a little.

Thanks again for all of your collective patience during my recent trial and internet outages. No idea about the internet, but the trial closes to the jury on Monday morning and that will be that until post trial motions.

I rode into the city today and was reminded how unpleasant it can be to ride during the non-peak hour trains without an mp3 player. Lots of ambient noise, cell phones, loud chatter, and distractions. Hard to think under those circumstances.

But there was one couple I looked at, for really no more than a moment, a short moment, but it was enough. They were in their early 20's, I'm guessing. She was dark haired and pale skinned. Makeup expertly applied -- not too much and all of it to flatter her features. And she smiled at her boy friend and the smile was so lovely, so graceful, so unhurried in its patience and love. I felt privileged to have seen it. It made me think that she must have a lot of inner serenity and that the old wisdom that youth is in too much of a hurry doesn't really ring true. At least, not there. Her smile suggested that she had all the time in the world for him and all the time needed to appreciate him and the experiences they were having together. No pressure, no rush. His good fortune, which I bet he does not understand, is nothing short of astounding to me. I took all this in very quickly, but the memory stayed with me some several hours later. It really was quite a smile.

My in-laws are in town to stay for the next three weeks. Might as well be three years. Well, that was snide. It might be just fine. I'll try to reserve judgment.

While I was here at the office, I missed a milestone at home: Boy Child pooping on the potty! He called me at work to tell me about it in great excitement. He and the Girl Child left me a long and breathless voicemail while I was otherwise engaged. Do I need to tell you that I have saved that voicemail? Still, I regard this as proof positive that while I am at the office, shit happens.

Hope you are all having a wonderful weekend!

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October 20, 2005

But for how long?

So, internet service has been restored to my office. Still no email, still no fax, still only a couple of phone lines working. But, its a start. The only question I have is, for how long will I still have internet service? When I come back from trial today (been on trial all week), will it still be here? Truthfully, it is awfully convenient to be able to do legal research in the middle of a trial, so I hope it remains when I return later.

Otherwise, I'll catch up to you all later. Thanks to everyone who sent notes wondering if I was still alive. That was very kind.

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October 08, 2005

Up too early?

Do not rely on television during the in-between hours to provide anything approaching diversion. Up at 3:30 and not because you're slipping out of someone's bed who you just met three hours earlier at a party? Don't turn on the television. I feel as if I've taken a bullet for you all here. Sports Center can only be watched for so long. Dating programs, Blind Date and Elimidate, are just, what, disturbing? An outlet for behavior that I otherwise don't get to see a lot? If this kind of behavior passes for normal these days, than I lead a sheltered life. Its hard to look away, like a bad car accident is fascinating.

Actually, I have to say, the advertisements they run during these programs are really interesting. Feminine hygine products. Chat dating. Internet dating. Internet services. Other dating program promos. Fast food. Breath products. Most of them with a sexual theme. You can sort of reason backwards, reverse engineer, if you will, the typical viewer of these programs. I have to conclude that the typical viewer, the target market, may be a lonely woman with bad breath who has bad periods and likes Taco Bell while shopping for a new cell phone plan to use while chatting on singles' lines because her acne is too bad to date in person.

I have to say that I didn't even know programs like these existed before I turned on the television this morning to see how the Yankees did last night. Um, not well, as it turned out. When I want to bed, they were tied. When I woke up, the Angels had clearly turned it on. Still, there is at least one game left to play in New York. Unlike in Boston. Sorry, Mark. Seriously.

Anyway, off for more tea.

By the way, in case you were wondering, my grandfather has responded very well to the antibiotics and appears to be doing much, much better.

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October 07, 2005

It wasn't me, I swear

I know I have some problems with my job, of late, but it wasn't me. I didn't do it. I did not cripple the office. That was Verizon and ConEd. ConEd had a transformer blow up, the old kind with the asbestos, and it took out a Verizon cable. What did that mean for us?

*No Email

*No Internet connection (no legal research, in other words)

*No faxing (fax line gone)

*Only 20% of our phone lines up

Take away our ability to communicate, to research, and to get all our phone calls, and what do you get? Lawyers who have a lot of time to clean their desks up.

We are pretty much totally shut down.

Also, personally, I have some bad news and some neutral news. Neutral first, I am still in the running or at least not been rejected yet for the change of career job.

Bad news: grandfather taken today to the hospital with a very high fever. My mother is beside herself.

I'll try to post a bit over the weekend but tomorrow we are all off to the city to see a princess. A Norwegian one who will read from her children's book. Ought to be fun.

Pax tibi.

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October 06, 2005

No title today, just some random thoughts

I have vacillated recently between blogging, bursting to write, and all dried up with no inspiration. A feeling like maybe I've said everything I've had to say and maybe I should consider taking a break from the writing. I think that maybe I'm just a teensy bit unhappy at the moment and maybe that means that I don't write when I'm actually unhappy. Really unhappy. That makes some sense, I suppose. When I was a child, and even now, when I was hurt, I tended to withdraw into myself, not wanting to be touched, just wanting to be left alone. The only company I could abide as a child was my dog. He was a 165 pound Great Dane. I used to curl up with him and cry out my sadness, cuddle away my disappointments. I miss him. We don't have a dog anymore. Instead, I have a blog. Less feeding and I don't have to walk it in the middle of the night, but less tactile comfort here too. So, there are tradeoffs.

I am not inclined to complain. Much. Funny aside, by the way. My fingers are not used to typing the word complain. Instead, they want to type the word complaint, which is more normal for these lawyer fingers to type. Aside over. The reason I am not inclined to complain is because of something William Buckley wrote about his mother. I read it last night on the train and it sort of smacked me in the face. His mother had just seen her eldest son buried and was in the midst of what Buckley describes as "convulsive grief". And he writes:

He had been visiting her every day, often taking her to a local restaurant for lunch, and her grief was, by her standards, convulsive; but she did not break her rule -- she never broke it -- which was never ever to complain; because, she explained, she could never repay God the favors He had done her, no matter what tribulations she might be made to suffer.

I was impressed by this because, inter alia, it contained two semi-colons. Also, it made me take stock and count my blessings a bit. Not a bad exercise when things seem a bit bleak. Bleak may be too strong a word. Maybe when you feel a little discouraged by the twists and turns your fortune seems to be following.

The book I took that quote from was "Miles Gone By: A Literary Autobiography". Good stuff. Some essays better than others but he writes quite beautifully.

Rosh Hashana at my parents' house was not a great success. My grandfather came from the nursing home in his wheel chair. We carried it up the steps to the door and included him in the gathering as best as he would permit. He is so greatly diminished that if I stopped to let myself think about it, it would break my heart. He's always been my role model and seeing him like this is difficult, for him and for me. Today is his birthday. I called to wish him a happy birthday and it was not a good call. He knew who I was but was not well. We did not have a long chat, just exchanged a couple of sentences, some good wishes, some hopes on my side and some admitted unhappiness on his. I had to push a bit to get him to tell me how he was feeling.

Today, I hope to go home to a harmonious house. A place where my children have been well behaved and not given our new nanny a fit. The Girl Child has been exhibiting adjustment issues. The new nanny, a sweet girl, feeling the culture shock ("boy, people out here sure are direct when they talk"), feeling homesick, trying to deal with body image and self confidence problems (none of which she should have; she's lovely), was told by the Girl Child yesterday that the was "fat and ugly". My wife and I were kind of impressed, quietly, that the Girl Child figured out how to put her finger so unerringly on the new nanny's ouchy spoot. The Girl Child also told my wife that she wouldn't listen to her because she was stupid.

None of this did I take well and we had a long discussion, mandatory apologies, and a no-story bed time. The Girl Child, I should note, did not take a nap and that always makes everything waaaay worse. I was really very angry about this and some other transgressions she committed and she knew it.

That said, and I have to say I respect her for it, even in the face of my very real anger, she stood up for herself and her perceived rights. I love her so much for that.

We got upstairs and I told her to get in the bathroom and brush her teeth. She told me that she didn't want to talk to me, that I made her sad, and that I had to say I was sorry first. I told her that if she was sad, it was a sadness of her own making, brought about entirely by her own bad behavior and that, as her father, I was required to correct it when necessary. She clearly disagreed and held me responsible for her sadness. But she shifted to another tack just the same and said that I had to say I was sorry anyway because I didn't say please when I told her to go brush her teeth. I agreed with her, apologized, and sent her off to brush.

I was so proud of her, at 4.75 year old, for standing up to me, for demanding a little respect, and for standing her ground. I have always tried to walk that very fine line between bending my little savage to the civilized comportment needed to live in my house and not breaking her will. Still working on the little savage part but clearly the will is still all there.

I think that may be enough for now. Besides, I have to take a friend to lunch for his birthday.

Pax tibi.

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October 04, 2005

Its quiet for now

The house isn't stirring yet. All I hear is the drip of the coffee maker and the clicks I'm making on the keypad.

Today is the first day of the High Holidays. The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana. It is customary today to wish people a sweet new year. You eat apples and honey together, among other things, because they are sweet. It is also the beginning of the time of repentance which culminates on the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. This period is one in which you ask for forgiveness from those around you against whom you've transgressed. On Yom Kippur you ask G-d for forgiveness.

As all New Years go, it is a time for a new start. At least, I hope it is.

I didn't get the job in Chicago. I found out last night. I was "nudged out by someone with a better experience package". It wasn't me, I was told. Not to be too catty, but I am not unhappy about not working for someone who isn't clear on the difference between nudged and edged. Both have dged in them but they do mean different things. Also, truthfully, I'm not at all sure that I want to continue to be a lawyer at all. More on that, perhaps, later.

No word on the change of career job I interviewed for. At least, no definitive word. I gather from the head hunter that I still have some convincing to do, some doubts to resolve about the transferability of my skills. I suggested that if there were any doubts, ask them to meet with me and let me try to convince them why my skills could transfer. I hope they take me up on it. In the end, I would hope that I'd be able to state a good case.

As the Jewish calendar ticks over, I hope that there will be some new start for me. I am looking for a clean slate, a fresh start.

In any event, may I simply wish you all a sweet new year?

My daughter is awake now and I am going to hang out with her. And get some of that coffee.

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September 28, 2005

No title

I woke this morning an hour later than I normally do on a weekday. I woke alone, in a giant four poster king size bed, in a corner room, paneled entirely in some rich oak looking wood, high over Park Avenue. I was not hung over, exactly. Not really. Just tired from the steady consumption of excellent bourbon, fine single malt, and first rate wines (both white and red) over the space of some five-six hours the night before. I include the roof top cocktail party with the stunning view of the Chrysler Building all lit up. Beautiful night for it.

There is something to be said for going to bed alone after having overindulged in good food, fine spirits, and diverting conversation. Something neatly self contained about taking all the fellowship and happiness and walking away with it tucked into your breast pocket. Sends you off to bed with a warm glow. Maybe that was the single malt, of course.

I think I am going to like these monthly obligations -- attending a board meeting in black tie (cause I love getting dressed up!), socializing, drinking, eating, etc. A reminder of life before children when your obligations to others was more theoretical and you could seek your own pleasure, within limits, without worrying overly much about the consequences.

Today, however, I am a bit less useful than normal. A residual effect of the booze, despite my best attempts to sweat it out in the fitness center before coming to work.

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September 23, 2005

Sort of just occurred to me

You know what the worst thing is about walking sideways to your responsibilities, at least your work related ones? It makes every day feel like Monday, every morning feel like the same start to the same day it was yesterday. It makes Friday feel like something other than the end of the work week and the it makes the weekend feel somehow devauled, somehow less merited. You end each day with the same to do list you begin it with and you realize that time passed but you gained no traction on it. The same lassitude gently laps at you and pulls, stupidly at you, like too much humidity and not enough cool air. This is what happens when your week is filled with responsibilities other than work, when you put on a dinner for around 250 people that lasts for 5 hours, when you attend board meetings, attend committee meetings, when you occupy yourself with everything other than your occupation. A person, could develop a cold. Or at least a feeling that the end of the week is nigh but not for you.

It has been a complicated week but not a productive week, not for me at work at least.

But the dinner I organized, in recognition for Vietnam Vets, was a huge success. One Vet wrote me:

that was the most deeply moving evening I have ever had over my Vietnam experience and it is because you pursued the idea and made it happen. i will never forget last night.

That makes it feel a bit better.

But not enough to make it feel like a Friday. Not enough to make it feel like I should have cashed that paycheck.

Guilt. Unresolved feelings of guilt. It ain't ever enough, anywhere, is it?

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September 19, 2005

Catching up from last posting

To catch up, since it seems to have been a while, I have passed a very active couple of days, filled with many things, few of them work related, I am happy to report. Let us kick off with Friday.

Friday

This day was spent mostly in transit. Approximately six hours or so of travel time in order to attend two hours of meeting. Still, it did not appear to be time wasted, although I did not get to meet Elizabeth, as I had hoped to do. We traded a bunch of messages and had several pleasant conversations. However, the point.

I went to Chicago on Friday for a job interview. I think it went well. I was slated to meet with three people and was told that in almost no circumstance would it exceed an hour and I could plan accordingly. The meeting was at 3. I arrived at around 11:00 in Chicago and took the train into the city. I had scads of time and the train, while slow, was only $1.75. I got out at Jackson, in the loop, right in front of the Monadnock building, the last tall building built only on masonry load bearing walls. By Burnham and Root, if I recall. It was a pleasure to see the old fellow, again. The walls at the bottom are extraordinarily thick, six feet, to support the 11 stories above without a skeleton. I then made my way to the Union League Club of Chicago where I had privileges and managed to hang out, read, prepare, and have lunch before my 3:00 interview. The interview was just a couple of blocks down the street, making the Union League very convenient. The food was excellent, actually.

I arrived at the interview 15 minutes early and had a lovely chat with the receptionist. When her relief came, about 1 minute before my interviewer arrived, I thanked her for babysitting me and she said she didnÂ’t babysit me. I agreed, remarking that she didnÂ’t even tell me a story. So she said that was true and offered to tell me a joke. I assented, of course. Just before the end of the joke, my interviewer came to fetch me and I actually asked him if we could wait one second so I could hear the punch line of the joke and he was fine with that. Set a good tone for an interview, maybe, if you can show how relaxed you are.

I met with three people. We spoke for an hour about my background and about the position. At the conclusion of the interview, they excused themselves and said that they were going to go into the hallway for a moment and chat about me. Ok. Odd, but whatever. After about 5 minutes they returned and asked me if I had any more time free. I did and they asked me to meet with another three people and I met with them for also about an hour. I think it went pretty well. At least, I suppose, I made it to the second round right on the spot. I regard it as a positive development, although you never know.

Made it home by about midnight. Long day that started at 4:30 so I could work out before heading out to the airport.

Saturday

Started the day exhausted. Mother in law was visiting from Norway. Enough said.

We took everyone to the Beardsley Zoo in Bridgeport. The kids had a great time. We saw three five-month old baby Siberian tiger cubs; turtles; alligators; wolves; monkeys; birds; and all sorts of reptiles. We left with exhausted children. The Girl Child, nonetheless, declined to nap. While she declined to nap, I gave my mother in law a driving tour of the area.

Upon our return, I had a brilliant idea. No cooking for me that night. I generally do all the cooking, actually. Pretty good deal for my wife. Instead, we would sally forth, acquire fried whole clams, bowls of lobster bisque, piles of onion rings, and bottles of beer and take them to a small beach near the house where there were picnic tables to be found on a small bluff overlooking the beach and the ocean and we would dine. And so we did, all while watching the storm roll in over the ocean from Long Island. The thunder was loud, at times. The dinner was outstanding, above the waves as they beat against the shore, as the light changed from the oncoming storm. We were pretty much totally alone. After dinner, we ventured down to the sand to collect sea shells. It was low tide. We found some lovely small ones.

The Girl Child and I had an amusing interchange at the picnic table after I remarked on the presence of grills and said next time we could bring charcoal and make our own food. I said that one of the grills I would not want to use as it was too close to a bush.

GC: Why wouldnÂ’t you want to use that grill, Pappa?

Me: Well, it is too close to the bush and I would worry that the bush would catch fire. No burning bushes for us; too biblical.

GC: What does that mean?

Me: Ask your teachers on Monday about the burning bush and theyÂ’ll explain it to you.

GC: I donÂ’t think I want to.

Me: Why not?

GC: I think that if I did, it would freak ‘em out.

Might be right, come to think of it.

Then we got back in the car and set off in search of the storm. We drove around for a while and eventually the storm and us found each other. Went home in the pouring rain through very quickly flooded streets. It was delightful.

Even better? No leak at the house.

Sunday

This day commenced early as the driver came to retrieve my mother in law at 6 for her departure to the airport.

The Boy Child arose shortly thereafter.

After the Girl Child joined him, for a happy breakfast of Lucky Charms – yay, Pappa! - I adjourned with the children to purchase Halloween costumes. The Girl Child having determined that she wanted to be a witch. She was beside herself with excitement as we picked out pointy hats and brooms, robes and other scary things. The Boy Child announced that he was not going to wear a hat at all. “My no hat on, Pappa”. No problem, I assured him.

Then we went home to get my wife. At that point, I announced a general nap amnesty coupled with a desire to do something fun. We set off to visit the Railroad Museum in Danbury, about 45 minutes away. The Boy Child was the perfect picture of excitement. He could not stand still when we arrived and discovered we were just in time to join a vintage train ride. He literally began to jump up and down. “My up-I toot-toot”, he announced. Yes, I agreed, you are going to go up in the train and take a ride. His smile was infectious and practically beatific.

After the ride, including a visit to the last turntable still operating in CT, where we got to watch an engine get spun around, we were able to explore the yard and some other vintage trains. Then, a visit to the gift shop where we procured a Junior Engineer Train Set for each child, consisting of a blue and white stripped hat, a red bandanna, and a whistle. I told the Boy Child that he was going to wear this for Halloween, complete with overalls and he could be a Toot-toot guy.

BC: Pappa, my no hat on.

Me: Not even this blue toot-toot hat?

BC: Blo toot-toot hat?

Me: Yeah, you donÂ’t want to wear the blue toot-toot hat and be a toot-toot guy for Halloween?

BC: My wear blo toot-toot hat. My blo toot-toot guy!!!!

All objections to the hat disappeared with the excitement of the realization that he was going to be a blue toot-toot guy for Halloween. He spoke about it off and on for the next five hours. Oh, to be 2.5 again.

After the museum, we wandered back along Route 7 for a late lunch at a small outdoor shack advertising homemade ice cream. Oh, the joy. The masses ate fried things while I virtuously consumed a salad, filching the odd onion ring now and again. After buying the three of them two scoops of ice cream, the banana was declared the best flavor, I had exactly a nickle left in the pocket.

It was a good day. A really good day.

I made them all eat grilled zucchini with parmesan sprinkled on top and grilled asparagus for dinner later that night. Clemintines for dessert, with the Boy Child greedily stealing all the sections that my wife peeled for herself.

All in all, it was a wonderful weekend.

Tomorrow, by the way, is the Boy ChildÂ’s first day of school.

IÂ’m not ready. HeÂ’s too little.

DonÂ’t look for a posting tomorrow. I take the Boy Child to school and then rush into the city for a deposition.

Pax tibi and yÂ’all keep your fingers crossed for Chicago, ok? I mean, IÂ’m not sure IÂ’ll take the job but IÂ’d rather have it be my decision, ya know?

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September 13, 2005

Fog descends on office, world cut off

Anyone get the reference in the title?

We had something technical explode at the office and lost all connection to the internet for the last four days. No email, no legal research, no guilty pleasures, no not so guilty pleasures, no connection to the outside world (did you miss me, world? I missed you.), no nothing.

It was kind of restful. I re-discovered the joys of solitaire. I caught up on work, on phone calls, on all sorts of stuff.

One of my phone call exchanges has been back and forth with an admin type at the Pentagon. In my next life, I want someone that efficient working for me. I imagine it must be liberating. And when you talk to people there, they are always in a hurry. Always. The speech is clipped and quick. The manner decisive. Kind of made me sit up a bit straighter in my chair while talking to them.

I have been arranging transportation and other stuff for a big shot from there who is speaking to an organization I head. The speech is tomorrow and I have to introduce him. Ought to be cool. In addition, I get to meet a Medal of Honor recipient. They are not called winners, I am told. They are called recipients. I am so far out of my league that I am totally relaxed about the experience. Really, what else can you do? Just relax and go with the flow.

What else happened while I was cut off? I have a new niece, according to my wife. My poor sister in law brought a child into the world after a scant 30 hour labor. Kids today, slackers all of 'em.

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September 09, 2005

It was rather a long day

I'm posting much later than I'd care to. Sitting here with the laptop, watching the Yankees/Red Sox game, decompressing from my day.

I had a job interview today. It was with a head hunter and it was a screening interview. Mostly, those are a waste of time. Today's was little different. She met me and will "promote" me for the job. It would be cool, a career change, no longer practicing law. That would be fine with me right now. Of course, it means in the long run that I'd probably be exchanging the devil I know for the devil I am not yet on speaking terms with. But still, change can be good, right?

If I get it, I will tell more. All I know now is that there are rounds and rounds of interviews ahead of me and personality tests to take. I was worried about the personality tests until I realized that those are kind of out of my control. I mean, I am 37 years old. I kind of figure that I am who I am and if that isn't good enough, there ain't nothing I can really do about it now. One thing, I'm sure, is that they will find a personality. Will it be the right one? Beats me. Its right for me.

Also, I have that other interview coming up next Friday. I have to prepare for that one of these days. That will take some hours worth of work. All for a job I am not totally sure I want. Still, I'd rather be the one to decide that after they make me the offer. That's a better place to be, right?

Thank you all very much for the very thoughtful, cogent, sometimes penetrating insights you all left in the comments to my last post. It was the only post I've ever put up that I almost closed comments for and then, when I didn't, I almost chose not to read them. I'm glad I did. Thank you for your friendship and for caring enough to take the time to share your thoughts with me. That was really excellent.

Some updates on more important things:

*Two days in a row of the Boy Child peeing on the potty!!! Life is good. He is so proud of himself when he does it. Still having a little trouble getting the little pee-pee pushed down so that he doesn't pee all over his feet, but hey, that's what parents are for, right? That and teaching the post-pee shake. Gotta get that down.

*The nanny resigned last night. Long chat ending up with her feeling that she was torn by her family's demands that she leave. Howard's going to be bummed. He liked this one. I think that the kids are going to be upset. She was only with us for a little under 90 days, just long enough for the Boy Child to bond with her. The Girl Child remained a little standoffish, which will stand her in good stead in the circumstances.

*Anyone seen a Brooks Brothers shopping bag on the over head rack on the train? If so, can you just turn it in to lost and found? It contains two new pairs of chinos that I screwed up and left on the train. They fit really nice, too. Maybe they'll fit someone else really nicely, too, now.

*Finally, I thought about noting this but I am simply not a big enough person to let it go. The NY Times today decided to publish articles about the loss of art and artefacts on the Gulf Coast and the damage to the legal system. I believe I wrote about those things some six days ago. Is that a scoop, then? Listen, NY Timesers, if you need another idea for an article, y'all feel free to come back and browse through my archieves and swipe something else, ok? No need to attribute it, I'll know. And you'll know. That will be quite enough for both of us, right?

Anyway, have a nice weekend, y'all!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:07 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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September 08, 2005

This one is for me

Hell, I may not even publish it. I'll wait and see. If I do, I warn you, this a really long, disorganized, extended look into my head at the moment. I am not writing it for you, whoever you are, but for me, as a chance to try to figure some things out.


Still here? The rest is in extended entry below:

* * * * * more...

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:07 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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Funny that I should lack for inspiration

Considering how crazy life has been of late, it is odd that I should lack for inspiration. The situation in the Gulf Coast has numbed me. The focus on scoring political points in the aftermath of the storm has left me feeling like our political culture is. . . What? Broken? Corrupt? Unfeeling? Almost stupid beyond redemption? So utterly self-referential that every utterance, every thought, is shared and feeds on the one before it and acts as fuel on the one after it until they forget that there is anything else happening beyond the need to score points. Call it what you will. Pick your own boogeyman. The Howard Deanism or Karl Rovism of political culture. I lean towards Howie. But he's not the cause, just a visible symptom. Like a pimple on a sexual organ is an outward manifestation of an inner sickness.

I'm not saying that "hard questions" don't need to be asked. I'm just saying that they need to be asked by someone who doesn't appear to have an axe to grind. Is that too much to ask?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:10 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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August 30, 2005

The Un-blog

I am overwhelmed with lassitude and unblogginess today. I can't seem to get excited about writing about any of the things I thought interesting today. So, instead, I choose to meander. You are welcome to tag along, if you wish, but only if you would wear a scooby-doo band aid to work. I require that you be prepared to exhibit that level of not taking yourself too seriously today to go any farther. Ok?

*First, the text of a movie review from the NY Times today:

Another neglected Eurotrash classic resurrected - in an extremely good print - by Mondo Macabro DVD, "Girl Slaves of Morgana Le Fay" is a 1971 French softcore sex and horror film that might have been directed by Jacques Rivette and written by Jean Cocteau. Obliquely based on the legend of King Arthur's half-sister, the sorceress, the picture takes place almost entirely within a remote chateau, where Morgana (Dominique Delpierre), employs her ancient wiles to recruit a young tourist (Mireille Saunin) into the ranks of her female love slaves, all gifted with immortality. To keep things lively, Morgana's court also includes a psychotic dwarf (Alfred Baillou) with an excessive fondness for eyeliner and a lust for revenge.

Despite the ultra low budget, and the apparent inability of the cameraman to create a single atmospheric shot, the film - the first to be directed by Bruno Gantillon - develops a real sense of mystery and fantasy, chiefly through a theatrical stylization of movement and dialogue (choral forms predominate) that casts a spell not unlike Mr. Rivette's celebrated "Céline and Julie Go Boating," which "Morgana" predates by three years. A genuine curiosity, presented here with appropriate respect and illuminating supplementary material, including Mr. Gantillon's short film "An Artistic Couple." $19.95. Not rated.

As one of my co-workers astutely points out: lesbian love slaves and dwarves, how can you go wrong? Indeed.

And how cool a job does the reviewer have, huh?

*Second, it seems like summer is slipping away, taking with it half memories and full truths of summers past: sticking to the faux-leather seats in my dad's Oldsmobile, cooled only by the breeze from the windows; sand in places sand should not comfortably be; smelling like sun tan oil; eating anything by the sea because it is a truism that food consumed next to salt water simply tastes better; children kissed golden brown by the sun; the Girl Child demonstrating the cannon ball; the Girl Child learning how to swim and throwing herself into the big kids' pool, totally without any fear, to demonstrate her new skills; the Boy Child throwing up his hand and yelling "MEG!" (pronounced "my") when asked who was going to the Kiddy Pool or to the "Beak" (his word for beach); the feeling that your whole life still stretches in front of you as the days become longer and the sunlight keeps coming, long into the evening; the sailboats tacking back and forth as they race on the Sound, looking sleek and purposeful; the explosion of the fried clam belly in your mouth with all of its richness, so powerful as to almost be too much, although you finish the whole order anyway; the taste of that cold, cold beer that somehow never tastes the same, never seems quite so necessary in February; summer's happiest tomatoes (need I say more?); and, finally, the bittersweet realization that the beach toys are soon to be packed away, the life guards gone back to school, and the days grown shorter, until all I have left are these thoughts.

*I don't really get the whole Cindy Sheehan thing. At first, I have to say, I thought it just fine that she wanted to meet with the President, sort of in the grand tradition of common citizens meeting with Lincoln at the height of the Civil War. But now, I have come to think her a lightning rod for fools, a rallying point for the wacky left and the ugly right, a place where people who hate America can come together and find common ground. It never ceases to amaze me how much the extreme left and the extreme right have in common. I just wish David Duke and Al Sharpton had been visiting Ms. Sheehan on the same day. That would have been gorgeous to see. Either way, we contain multitudes, this nation of ours. Welcome to the tumult.

*I wonder, sometimes, about why I continue to blog. I donÂ’t have an answer. Until I come up with one, I will, like the milkmanÂ’s horse, keep coming back here almost every day and continue to write. Do you know which post of mine takes the most comments? Easily, without comparison, its the one on Welsh hip hop. Click on the category page for that topic and marvel at how alive that music scene is.

*My Gmail seems to be down. Thank goodness. Jim and I have been torturing each other with School House Rock songs, throwing snatches of lyrics at each other. With my email down, that gives me last word.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:42 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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August 26, 2005

As the ref's whistle blows, this week is over, all but the injury time

The week, thankfully, is drawing to a close. It was a miserable week, by and large. I am not sorry to see it go, no matter how spendthrift that makes me seem with the small amount of time granted to me on this earth. I'm happy to pretend that this week was no different from trying to hold water in my hands, that the week had to drain away no matter what I did. That's the good thing about time, right? That it wounds all heels, or something?

Still, the week has ended / is ending on a positive note and I shall reflect on the highlights here:

*Thank you all for the very kind comments you left and for the private emails you sent me. It was an unlooked for, unexpected kindness, the best kind really.

*Dinner with Simon was really a bright spot. We happily chatted away for 3+ hours and I think it could have been more if I didn't have to catch a train.

*I will note that most weeks generally will not include a trip to the dentist among a list of highlights but this was not most weeks. Being out of the office was just grand. No matter how much discomfort.

*I already had a screening interview for a new job here in NYC. Keeping my fingers crossed. The interview went smashingly well, so we'll just have to see. If it works out, it will mean a career change. That sounds very nice at this point in time. Very nice.

*Just the same, I had a new client come in today for a preliminary consultation. A young guy, younger than me, but successful. Sounds like a nifty little case and one I'd enjoy doing. I'll quote him a fee on Monday and see if he wants to retain me. When I say little, I don't mean to demean him or his 7 figure plus problem, I just mean that it felt very self-contained. But I already see a couple of places where I could change that, change the dynamic of the interactions he's had with the defendants and maybe blow things up a bit. Like starting with disqualifying the defendants' law firm. That always upsets people.

*My kids were flat out joys to be around this week. No qualification possible. I may have the cutest kids in the whole world. Last night, I read "The Enormous Crocodile", by Roald Dahl, to the Girl Child. Couldn't help myself at the end, when Trunky the Elephant is swinging the Enormous Croc around and the Croc says, "Let me go!", from then saying/singing: "I will not let you go . .Let me go. . .I will not let you go. . .Let me go". Shameless, I am. After the reading, the Boy Child crawled up onto the Girl Child's bed and, at the invitation of the Girl Child, lay his little curly blond head on her lap so she could stroke his hair and forehead. He looked up at her and told her that he loved her. I wanted to cry. It was that beautiful, that perfect. Makes all the work stuff seem trivial.

*I got another expression of interest from another head hunter about some in house compliance positions. May not go anywhere at all, but you know what? It don't got to go no where. See, what it is, is hope. Hope is a powerful and uplifting emotion. It can pull you out of the dumps, let you lift your head up and contemplate the horizon a little. Once you see the horizon, you know that the shitty place you may be in at the moment can and will be a memory. Hope lets you imagine a different future and when your present doesn't amuse, a different future is a wonderful thing to be able to muse about. So, I'm enjoying my little shot of hope. I'm even a bit buzzed on it, truth be told. I can see myself in that future and, even if it turns out to suck, it least it would be a different kind of suck. Right?

*Another high point may be that these horrible peasant skirts which are all the rage this summer could be reaching their natural end. I have yet to see a woman look good in a peasant skirt. Really. I wish the fashion industry would stop being run by people who hate women.

I'll leave you with this, which a friend sent me. Seems appropriate:

medicine.bmp

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:55 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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August 17, 2005

Black tie

I have to say that I really enjoy shopping for suits. It is a hugely tactile experience for me. I almost close my eyes and walk down the rack for my size and run my fingers along the suits, stopping only when I hit some fabric that feels especially fine. Then and only then do I look at the suit and the pattern. In the first instance, its all about the material, baby. Its gotta be wool and its gotta feel good. Don't let someone tell you that there isn't a difference between suit manufacturers or that all the suits are the same or that wool is wool. Wool is most certainly not just wool. Really.

Today, I went to my favorite store. Don't ask for the name, they're doing just fine without my plug and I don't want to have to fight to get in there, ok? It is not a street level men's store and they don't rely on walk in customers. In fact, I don't even think that there's a sign in the lobby. And when you get to the door, you have to be buzzed in. At least you don't have to knock three times first.

I went because I needed a new tuxedo. I have lost a bit of weight and my old one cannot be taken in as much as it needs to be taken in. I looked like a kid playing dress up in his father's clothes when I tried it on. Also, I realized, looking at my calendar, that I am going to be wearing black tie at least six times between September 1 and December 31. So, I bought one and, like with any suit, I chose between two models and picked the one with the better feeling wool.

What did I get, you may ask? Or maybe you don't care. Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway, so there.

I bought a beautiful Hickey Freeman tuxedo for about 60% off. See, the fabric has to feel good but the deal has to also feel good. Welcome to NY. The deal has to be there. Only suckers pay retail in NY. Or really rich people. I know I'm not rich and I like to think I am not a sucker, or at least rarely. Hickey Freeman makes beautiful, exceptionally constructed suits out of gorgeous materials. The only better off the rack suit is Oxxford and I cannot afford them, even on sale.

The tuxedo has a shawl collar. This is not something you see so often but I am enough of a clothes horse to want one. With a shawl collar you don't look like you are either wearing just a black suit or are part of the catering staff.

It looks like this:

shawlcollar.jpg

Something about the shape and drape of the collar and the whole jacket just feels like a throw back to the 1920's and 1930's. Just something very elegant about the look and the statement it makes. Another nice thing about it is that you do not look like everybody else when wearing a shawl collar. Subtly, you stand out a bit. And that's not at all a bad thing, it seems to me.

Now, I just have to talk my wife into letting me go back and get some new suits. They're having a sale and the fabrics were to die for, as my grandmother used to say.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:56 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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