Can't spell America without Erica

Mexican birthday

2010-08-17T21:07:00.000-07:00

After taking the California bar, the most terrible ordeal in my life to date, I fled to Mexico. I'm living with my step grandmother, Tila, in Merida, Mexico for one month. I landed 3 days ago and, so far, it has been a quiet trip. It is so hot here that you can only go out early in the morning, and in the evening. Well, as you know, I like to sleep in. So I decided to explore in the evening. But, there were massive thunder and lightening storms each night after I landed, which prevented me from really getting to explore. That is, until today.

This morning, I went with the volunteers - a rag tag bunch of 7 Brits in their early 20's - to the orphanage, where the orphans sang happy birthday to me. We were with the 6-10 year old girls. Some of them are so affection hungry that they attach to your hips and legs sight unseen, and ask to kiss your cheek, or hold your hand, etc. It was incredibly touching. After that we traveled to the caves by bus, then these little catamarans, and finally by donkey-pulled carts on train tracks. We cave dived for about 3 hours. It was amazing. Afterward, back in the city, we had a delicious Italian meal. It was a very good Birthday.

As for the mosquitoes, I learned from the volunteers that most foreigners react like I did, i.e., welts the size of a silver dollar, for about a week after which the mosquitoes become less interested and also the physical reaction to each bite becomes less severe. I'll be sure to post pics of my left leg. It looks like I have leprosy. I hope these kids were right because they bites are literally driving me mad. I can't sleep both because they itch so bad and because I'm always brushing mosquitoes away (they're like super mosquitoes, impervious to repellent or citronella).

Tila has been giving me 2-hour Spanish lessons each morning and has advised me that soon she will stop speaking to me in English! It turns out that I knew more Spanish than I thought. I know enough to get places, order food, ask basic questions, and I even managed a joke!

Finally, in maybe 10 days or so I plan on renting a car and doing a little tour of the Yucatan. My step-cousin, Gita, is in school, so I'll probably have to do it alone. I'm kind of scared but also excited. Tila seems to think it's a good idea so long as I stick to safe towns.

Anyway, that's all for now from Mexico.

Hallmark Holiday Special

2010-01-01T17:44:00.000-08:00

I'm back in the States and yes, I plan to post tales from my travels. But today I feel the need to post a fond farewell to the Parks family's (or more accurately Jessie's) sweet golden Dazie.

I was teetering on the threshold of a Chicago nail salon on Christmas Eve when I got the call. A heads up from Dad. Dazie was sick. The kind of sick that earns family dogs a permanent trip to the farm. Mom and Dad hadn't told Jessie yet and, since I was flying in on Christmas day, they wanted to steel me for the impending tragedy. I'm sure the ladies at the salon appreciated my ashen face and occasional stifled sob on such a festive day. Oh well.

The scene that greeted me at the family home in Seattle was dire. Dazie panted with the effort of raising her head. Jessie lay wrapped up in her rainbow blankie, her body wracked with grief. We were all there. Mom, Dad, Connor, me, even the cat. We crouched round Jessie and Dazie and tried to support her through the ordeal of loosing her best friend.

Animal, our impossibly small cat, who used to toy with Dazie's feelings, cuddling her one minute and biting her the next, now hovered near Dazie and licked her face. It looked like a scene from a Hallmark special.

We never had to take Dazie on that last sad drive to the vet. She didn't have to close her eyes in unfamiliar surroundings. The day after Christmas, Dazie took one last breath and slipped away in Jessie's arms.

I'm not saying that the death of our family dog was a good thing. But Dazie pulled it off with spectacular timing and bravery and united our usually scattered family so that we could all be there to carry Jessie through her grief.

Good girl Dazie.

The humble abode

2009-09-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

The hood...

The walk up...

The (spacious and well lit) living room...

...not bad eh?

My bedroom...

Cristy's office-turned bedroom...

Kitchen stocked with Ikea everything...

The ladies' room...

Halo, ik spreek geen Nederlands?

2009-09-01T07:52:00.000-07:00

Key observations on Amsterdam and the Dutch:

Karnemelk is not delicious refreshing milk. It's disgusting buttermilk;
You have to purchase your own grocery bags and bag your own groceries. Failure to comprehend and execute this norm with speed makes for a grumpy cashier and a traffic jam at the market;
The Dutch have...interesting taste in fashion. Bright colors and lots of them stick out like a sore thumb;
The Dutch don't "lunch" as we do in the states. A simple meal of bread and cheese will suffice;
Dutch cheese rocks;
The weather here sucks;
Buy 2 locks for your bike, one for the back wheel and another for the front wheel and frame, and always lock your bike to a stationary object lest your frustrated thief decide to just throw the thing into a canal;
Bring Tylenol! Weed and shrooms may be legal, but you have to have an Rx for Tylenol

Dam!

2009-08-29T08:54:00.001-07:00

As promised, the first of many Dam entries. Pictures to come. The dust is still settling so pardon my brevity and lack of wit.

This study abroad thing got off to a very rocky start. Apparently it is neigh impossible to find housing in Amsterdam on one's own.The custom here is to hire a broker and pay him/her a commission equal to one month's rent at your new abode. Add that to the traditional 2-month's deposit and first month's rent and you're looking at a very pricey move-in.

Ignorant of the realities of Dam's housing market, like true head-strong Americans, Cristy and I rejected the univerisyt's housing service, which places students in rshared ooms across the city. I'm 26 (again) for crap's sake! I didn't want a dorm. And I wanted to room with Cristy, not someone's Dutch grandmother (I'm sure Dutch grandmother's are wonderful people). So we breezed into town on August 26th expecting to find our own housing in the picturesque city center. It was a wearying and discouraging task.

We responded to approximately 45 ads on Craigslist and Expatriates.com, of which only 4 turned out to be real. The rest? Frauds. The malfeasors would respond to our e-mails with some sad story about how they had to leave Dam and had no one with whom to leave a set of keys. But no fear. If you but wire them a deposit, they will FedEx you a key. Oh, and you must also supply your passport number, sex, birthday, last residence etc. Disgust!

Despite our naivete Cristy and I landed on our feet. 3 days into the hunt yours truly was loosing her mind. Unable to sleep due to fears of impending homelesness. And then we found a real ad, from a real woman, a Brit at that. The apartment is not in city center, which turned out to be a good thing. It's a much quieter neighborhood. The apartment is charming, fully stocked and furnished, and a quick bike ride to school.

Finally I can take a breath and look around at the city. I'm on my way out to get a bike, and tomorrow I'll tour the city for real.

Oh, one last thing. The exchange rate! Holy crappy cow! It looks like the money I saved up this summer will go to life in Dam, and not to the many European adventures of which I dreamed. Which is ok. This city may be abominably expensive, but it is beautiful.

Until next time.

Lawyer lawyerson

2009-08-05T18:13:00.000-07:00

Where to start? I accepted a summer internship at a firm in Los Angeles last October (was it that long ago?), got accepted to the Fall 2009 study abroad program in Amsterdam, put on the Wigmore Follies (see earlier post), finished my second year of law school, tearfully put Oscar up at a friend's for the summer and fall, moved to Los Angeles, worked my butt off at my internship (or rather worked instead of worked-out and so grew my ass to a record size), and now I'm preparing to move to Amsterdam.

Holy crap! that was fast. It probably took you longer to read this than for me to actually do it all. What a summer. I worked so hard that I can hardly remember any of it. And just like that, it's over.

Just 2 days left at my internship. Will I get an offer? Well, the economy is shite as we all know, so I try not to get my hopes up. But that's not going to stop me from running away to NL for the next 4 months and living it up. If anything, the hellishness of all of this has only made me more eager for the opportunity.

I kept meaning to take a trip to the Bay Area, to the friends for which I started this blog. And now it's too late. Do you forgive me? Are you even still reading? I wouldn't blame you if you've washed your hands of me. This lawyer business has caused some serious casualties in my life.

On a totally unrelated note. I have become certifiably obsessed with Sons of Anarchy. Discovered it last week. Have since watched the entire first season three times through and eagerly await the second season. You'll have to watch to understand why. I think the show has ruined any hope that I might have had of finding and loving an actual person, since I am head over heels for a fictitious one:

I'm serious. I have regressed into a simpering teenager. Actually, it isn't even a regression, since this is a total first for me.

Dear diary,

I love Jax Teller. I love his tattoos. I love his
thugishness. His heart of gold, scruffy blonde beard, and his complete impossibility.

- Erica

P.s. Don't judge me! It's been a very rough summer. A gal needs someone to dream about now and then...

Wigmore Folies 2009 was a smash hit!!

2009-04-11T18:46:00.000-07:00

The show went off without a hitch this year - both nights. And attendance was through the roof.

Here's a link to one of our best numbers, "Irrefutable": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBQmaeiSVgo

Some background information: the song spoofs our 2 most conservative professors, McGinnis and Calabresi. At this point in the plot, the Northwestern culture we know and love has been derailed. Two students kidnapped, various student groups accusing each other of despicable acts, and (duhn duhn duhn) the right-wing professors are "players." In this number my friend Jennifer Ervin sins an adaptation of a Beyonce song. The words are hard to understand, especially if you are unfamiliar with legalese, so I've pasted the lyrics below:

SONG: “Irrefutable” (Federalist Society Girl)

(“Irreplaceable” by Beyonce)

On the right

Mmmn on the right, on the right

All the ladies dreaming bout teachers on the right

They used to be constitution nerds

But now they’re so hot I’m lost for words.

Steve, there’s nothing I would not give

My heart’s unitary executive and

Your classroom’s an idea lab

Should we take a stab at a right wing power grab

Standing in the classroom making liberals look like fools

They wanna curb the executive power in Article 2

But I’m not listening

I know that you’re gonna read

Each Amendment textually

Who needs privacy or penumbras?

Sure not either of you fellas, baby

I know that you’re gonna read

Each Amendment textually

(Just) like the brief John Yoo submitted

When you can pick and choose “original” meanings, you’re irrefutable.

John, you’re gonna be mine

With glasses and a wrist brace so fine

Sign my copy of the Federalist

You blow my mind I want to blow you a kiss

You even know Ken Starr

Imagine the fun we’d have with a cigar.

C’mon don’t tease

Shower me with your expertise

Standing in the classroom making liberals look like fools.

They think you can believe in Roe and Lochner, too

They’re so twisted.

I know that you’re gonna read

Each amendment textually

So if abortion rights aren’t given, it ain’t because you don’t like women, baby

I know that you’re gonna read

Each amendment textually

(Just) like Scalia did in Heller

When you can pick and choose “original” meanings, you’re irrefutable

On the right

Crazy Airplane Lady

2009-01-06T11:39:00.000-08:00

This is the story of how a crazy-eyed young mother nearly got herself kicked off a Southwest flight from Seattle to Chicago. We'll call her May.

We were taxiing toward the runway when it started. May had a piercing nasal voice, which carried the conversation she was having with her hapless neighbor into my listening space (and my neighbor's, and his, the rows and in front of us, etc.):

Jesus died for your sins. He did! And if you don't come to Jesus you will burn in hell. God talks to me. He is your father and he wants me to tell you so.

And so on, and so on.

As May got increasingly agitated the people around her started staring. She turned her burning psychotic gaze on me and grinned. It would not have surprised me if she had foamed at the mouth.

Despite her neighbor's efforts to calm her, May stood up and shouted to the whole plane:

Mark my words. God is your father. He loves you. He wants me to tell you that you will see him very very soon. He told me this.

Hold on! I'm going to meet my maker? WTF kind of thing is that to say on a plane? Understandably, people started to get upset. The first flight attendant to respond mucked it up:

Mam. You can't have religious conversations on t his plane. If you keep that up, we'll h ave to remove you.

Is it just me or does that sound off? How about this: "you're not allowed to threaten your fellow passengers with imminent death."

The next few crew members were only slightly more competent. May had calmed down at this point, but you could see the panic in the crew's eye's. The asked her, repeatedly, if she intended to have another outburst and, satisfied, returned to the flight deck to whisper amongst themselves.

Apparently the powers that be decided to turn a blind eye. We were cleared for take-off. But she just had to have the last word. As the flight attendant ran through safety procedures, he pointer to May's baby and said, "put the mask on yourself first and then help the baby." Her reply:

My baby doesn't need help. Jesus will take care of her

Now, I have always been a champion of Southwest; even more so in this age of dwindling leg room and baggage fees (screw you United, American, and Delta!). But this seriously shook my faith in...whoever cleared my flight for take-off rather than kick her bony butt onto the tarmac.

My New Favorite: Live Band Karaoke

2008-12-22T16:15:00.000-08:00

I may be the last gal in Chicago to discover live band karaoke on Sunday nights at Stanley's, but I am certainly not the least.
It took me all night, but I worked up the nerve (thanks to the support of best friend Lisa ) to sing Blondie's "One Way of Another."

The best part: the band is a real effing band! Rhythm section, base, guitar and keyboard. To top it off, the band members double as back-up singers.

There were at least 2 really good acts, complete with rock stylings and crowd-pleasing dance moves. I have no delusions of grandeur; while my vocals were decent, I stood up there like a log. I think my most creative move consisted of a nervous hip-swaggle.

Lesson learned: like the nerd that I am, I will practice lyrics and, that's right, dance moves. Alone. In front of a mirror. I will practice until my act reaches the heights of perfection, and then I will return to Stanley's and blow 'em all away.

Just kidding. I'm not that lame...(shuffles feet and avoids eye contact)

Call me an Oyster

2008-11-29T06:43:00.000-08:00

Gentle reader, tonight I lay in a hospital bed, I.V. in my left hand, itchy hospital bracelet on my right. How did I get here? Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start (warning, this post contains graphic descriptions of gross medical problems):

5 years ago I lost 60 lbs - a rapid change in weight. Also, a common trigger of gallstones.
5 years ago I started having intense pain just below my right ribs. Where my gall bladder used to be.
5 years ago I went to the UCB student health clinic (a.k.a. the Tang) and, pointing right at my gallbladder, complained of sharp knifing pains. I was diagnosed with chronic acid reflux.

Since then, I have suffered increasingly frequent and severe "acid reflux attacks" characterized by 1) the feeling of a red-hot serrated knife twisting beneath by right ribs, where my gall bladder once resided, and 2) between 6 and 24 hours of vomiting stomach acid.

The last of these episodes commenced the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The vomiting and the most intense pain lasted for 2 1/2 days. Just in case, I visited student health services. They changed my Rx and sent me home expecting continued soreness as my insides healed from their recent acid-inflicted punishment.

When the pain intensified, I convinced myself it would pass. The next day found me unable to stand erect and barely capable of walking - literally crippled by pain. Still, I told myself, it would pass.

It did not pass.

By Wednesday, I had two choices: throw myself into traffic to end the pain or go to the doctor again. Since I didn't have the strength to walk to Lakeshore Avenue, where traffic is at its best, i decided to go to the doctor.

You might have the impression that I am masochistic. Certainly several friends insisted, from day one, that I go to the ER. Never fear, I was not totally daft. I had an inkling that I might wind up in the hospital. Just in case, I packed my purse with a change of underwear and stimulating reading material (Evidence Examples and Explanations).

As I lay on the examination table at student health services, I imagined that the acid had burned a hole through my insides and that I was dying of internal bleeding. The nurse practitioner listened to me, frowned a bunch, and pulled the attending physician into the room.

The Doc explained that there was a small chance I was suffering from pancreatitis or gall bladder disease. Since the clinic was closing that evening for the Thanksgiving holiday, the Doc instructed the N.P. to order an ultra-sound for the following Monday. By this time the N.P. was looking a tad nervous and, praise be to God, she somehow squeezed me in for an ultrasound that afternoon just before closing.

I hobbled, slowly and with much pain, to the ultrasound and radiology floor where I waited in line for the longest 5 minutes of life. Thinking back on it, I can't believe that I didn't collapse or at least feebly call out to the receptionist for help. For that matter, not a single person offered me a wheel chair, even though I was walking stooped over, at the pace of a 90 year old, and sobbing quietly to myself. What is the world coming to?

The ultrasound was another painful affair since they had to press the paddle into my swollen side. But I thank heaven that they fit me in same-day because it just may have saved my life. After 5 years of misdiagnoses, the ultrasound uncovered the real culprit: gall bladder stones, and lots of them.

At this point I thought they would give me a miracle stone-dissolving pill and send me on my way. Instead I was plopped into a wheel chair (at last!) and whisked off to the emergency room.

Two excellent friends met me in the ER so that I wouldn't be alone. One problem: the most painful thing I could do was laugh. And Cristy, that minx, kept cracking me up. It was agony.

The ER was in a pre-Thanksgiving lull and I was quickly wheeled to my own private curtained-off corner. Still convinced that I simply needed a pill, I impatiently put on the ass-exposing gown and crawled into bed.

Enter tired and somewhat cold ER resident: "You're staying the night with us, probably the next couple of nights."
Me: "Waaaaaaaa! Booooooo! Waaaaaaaa!"
ER resident: (unmoved by my tears) "In the mean time, can we give you something for the pain?"
Me: "Oh! Yes please! Yes!!"

After one failed attempt, the sweet but fumbling nurse go the I.V. in and I was introduced to the narcotic pain killer, dilaudid.

At that point I had the presence of mind to change into the clean and cute pair of underwear that I had earlier packed in my purse, just in case a draft should lift the flimsy gown, exposing the granny pair I originally wore. By accident, I left the granny pair in the sink of my private bathroom.

The nurse breezed back in to collect my belongings, peeked in the bathroom, and declared, "did someone leave their pants in the sink?" I couldn't help but laugh out loud, painfully, at the absurd notion of someone removing their pants and sneaking them into my sink. The dilaudid made the mental image all the more hilarious. My laughter was cut short when the nurse emerged, dangling my grannies on the tip of her finger.

I was mortified. Talk about kicking me when I'm down!

Sharon, my angel-friend who stayed with me for 5 hours that evening, grabbed the offending garment with a no-nonsense air, wrapped them in a paper towel, jammed them in her purse, and lectured me, "once you've had a baby, nothing will ever embarrass you again."

I didn't have long to mull over my embarrassment as the dilaudid rapidly eroded any sense of decorum.

Enter hot ER attending: (hold's my hand and looks lovingly into my eyes) "now, you have a potentially serious problem, but it is also a very common one. We're going to take good care of you."
What I heard on dilaudid: "Sweet nothing, sweet nothing. I love you. Let's get married."
What I said on dilaudid: (big sloppy grin on my face) "You are the cutest doctor ever."

And he was. The cutest doctor. Ever. In fact, the Northwestern Memorial Hospital is filled with hot doctors. Well, with the exception of the cranky resident who was not unattractive, but not exactly an Adonis.

My transport arrived to whisk me off to my hospital room. In the elevator, I asked the gurney next to me, "what are you in for?" She answered, "something, something, pain, blah blah blah." I wished her, everyone in the elevator, and everyone in earshot, a "Happy Thanksgiving!"

I later learned that the NWMH was built to feel like a hotel. Way to go NWMH! I loved my single room, pretty painting, two leather arm chairs for guests, faux-mahogany bookshelves and night stand, fold-out sofa bed, and the private bathroom and shower. If you have to spend Thanksgiving in a hospital, NWMH is the place to be.

That night I was visited by a phalanx of doctor-fairies who discussed the plan of attack: 1) calm down my freaky gall bladder with massive doses of antibiotics, send me home to fight the infection, and remove the rebelling organ at a later date, 2) if my insides continued to revolt, cut the infected organ right out.

Thanksgiving was spent laying in a hospital bed, monitoring my response to the antibiotics: zero. A few more fairy-doctors returned in the afternoon declaring, "out with her gall bladder!" Surgery was scheduled for Friday morning.

I was relieved. The thought of that time-bomb remaining in my body for any length of time was terrifying.

Flowers started arriving the next day and I was regaled with well-wishes from family and friends (thank you Mom & Dad, Puppy, Krista, Cristy, Jillian, Lisa, Parul, and Manisha). Cheryl visited on Thanksgiving morning with a bag full of books and the New York Times. She insisted that, once released, I recover at her fabulous West Loop town house. And Oscar was quickly farmed out to darling Krista and her Nathaniel (with hopes that his furry company will be the catalyst they need to commit to a kitty of their own). What a wonderful thing it is that, so far from family, I have a circle of friends dedicated to my well-being. Yay for friends!

That afternoon, over the phone, my Dad put the anticipated surgery into positive perspective by reminding me that this year I truly had something to be thankful for: my life. Had the problem persisted undiscovered, my gall bladder could easily have burst and killed me. Yikes!

By that time, the dilaudid was rapidly losing its intoxicating effects. The drug typically wore off 30 minutes before the next scheduled dose; as a result, the first deep sleep I had in 6 days was the one I had on the operating table.

Friday morning came at last and I was wheeled down to surgery. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared, or that I didn't shed a few self-pitying tears. Just before surgery, Cheryl showed up to cheer me on.

And then, just like that, it was over.

Suddenly I was awake, sort of, and in excruciating pain. The first thing I said was, "I dreamed my whole semester." I want to dwell on my first post-surgery utterance. It captures my internal struggle from day one. It was perhaps the principle reason I waited 5 days before finally going to the hospital; an irrational fear of the damage that a trip to the ER could do to my schoolwork. I am daily shocked at how close I came to permanently ruining my health, all because I lacked any perspective of the priorities in life: health first, then everything else.

The next bits of memory are fuzzy and often lack one or more senses. I could sometimes hear but not see. Sometimes see but not hear.

I was wheeled to a post-op recovery area and quickly administered a much larger dose of dilaudid, 10 times larger than before. It came to me, gradually, that my gall bladder was gone. But as the pain receded, something very disturbing happened: I forgot to breath. I had to think about breathing. And unless I remembered to breathe I thought I would suffocate there on the gurney.

How could I remember to breathe if I was unconscious? The massive dose of narcotics made it impossible to stay awake. Each time I nodded off, I awoke with the terrifying realization that I wasn't breathing.

In a panic, I looked around for the nurse. I was all alone. Unlike my cozy bed upstairs, there was no nurse call-button. I tried calling out for help but couldn't speak. I whispered "hello?" Then croaked, "help!" Finally, I managed a speaking-voice, "I need help!" The nurse was just on the other side of the curtain, checking on my neighbor. I sobbed out, "please don't leave me alone. I stopped breathing!" She assured me that the monitor would have beeped if that were the case, and anyway, she had to finish checking-out my neighbor. Then she left me.

I was devastated.

I must not have suffocated after-all. But later a nurse told me that, for some patients, dilaudid suppresses the instinct to breathe. I was right! Take that, mean nurse!!

Back in my private room I examined my 4 new scars. One is hidden in my belly button. Two more tiny scars decorate my side. The big one, 2" wide, is conveniently located just beneath my right breast. Fantastic. Adds character, I'm sure.

I later learned that the big incision is larger than normal due to the unusual size of my gall bladder. A surgeon later described the diseased organ. "It was big. It was really big."

Oh my God Becky
Look at her gall bladder
I mean it's just so big
I can't believe it's so round
It's just out there
I mean, it's gross

Not only that, but it developed a tough rind, and was full of stones and sludge. That's why my surgery took longer than usual.

Ugh. A rind? Like a cantaloupe?

Just a few hours after the surgery I was eating solid food and walking around the ward. I felt so good that I suggested running laps. The nurse assured me that running was not in my cards; it was the pain-killers that felt so good.

Tomorrow I'll be released and Cheryl will take me to her place in the west loop to recover.

I have one regret: I never asked to keep my gallstones. I later learned that gallstones are beautiful. Like pearls.

So I'm an oyster.

Lady luck

2008-07-28T14:15:00.000-07:00

Last week was my lucky week! So as not to jinx my luck, I won't be detailing the fruits of my streak, but some of you know of what I speak.

Hmmm...does writing about good luck cancel it, or worse, bring on bad luck? (knocks on wooden table top until knuckles bleed).

Wildcat

2008-07-26T23:02:00.000-07:00

They grow up so fast! Finally let the cat outside unsupervised last week. Since then he spends some hours each day outdoors eating grass, sniffing things, eating bugs, sniffing Bow Tie, eating dirt, etc.

Lately he looks brown and gray, rather than white. When he comes back from a foray he flops just over the threshold and lies panting from Vegas heat, exertion, or a combination of the two.

It's a pity, now that he's had a taste of freedom, that he'll fly back to Chicago with me in 8 days to be pent up in a tiny studio.

Prodigal blogger

2008-07-16T08:21:00.001-07:00

My apologies reader, I left the blogosphere behind when I moved to Vegas for the summer.

Summer re-cap: Vegas is hot, flat, dusty, hot, and windy (dust in your eye kind of wind). The externship is a challenge and I am getting paid in buckets of shiny knowledge (sigh...money would be nice). There's not much to do here except watch movies, eat, and shop.

Remember how much I hated Chicago in the winter? I vowed that no matter how pretty Chicago is in the spring, nothing could make me love a place that gets that cold.

I take it back. I miss miss miss Chicago. Vegas makes for a wonderful foil against which Chicago shines bright and happy. I've decided that Chicago inspires insomnia in its residents. It's so beautiful in the spring and summer that they forget the pain of winter.

Oscar update: His belleh fur is growing back, slowly but surely. He's like a wee kitten again. Mom's cat, Bow Tie, is Oscar's polar opposite - solid black and thin to Oscar's solid white and obese. After 2 weeks the kittens stopped growling and decided to tolerate each other. After another week they were wrestling and grooming each other like little kitten lovers. Occasionally the fun gets out of hand and someone gets hurt, but usually it's Oscar beating the stuffing out of Bow Tie. Boys will be boys.

I fly back to Chi-town on the 4th. Hurrah!! Back to my little apartment with its yellow walls and my delicious bed. Mmmm. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Shopping and study both start with an "S"

2008-05-06T16:06:00.000-07:00

Went shopping earlier today after a leisurely lunch at Stellas (BLT with avocado and and iced tea...mmm). Then I did the dishes, which actually needed to be done. I did a photo shoot with Oscar and his naked pink belleh. Finally I painted my toe nails while looking for long-term car rental deals.

Loverly...except that I still have 1 more final to go!!!

And now, because a friend put it into my head (Kelly!) I am procrastinating by blogging about procrastinating.

Back to work. Now! Any minute...

The end is nigh

2008-04-18T18:55:00.001-07:00

3 more weeks left of my first year as a law student. Finals begin in 1 week. The end is nigh.

In other news, yours truly was elected assistant producer for next year's Wigmore Follies! They like me! They really like me!! I keep getting those I'm-so-excited-that-my-eyes-are-watering tears, added to my barely controlled gushing and you have quite possibly the biggest law-school-drama nerd ever.

I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it! I know, I know, I know, I won't remember, tomorrow [Follies, you know what I mean].

Oscar update: to prevent him from licking/scratching his stitches, he wears a white and gray striped Calvin Klein baby t-shirt. He hates it, and looks so pathetic that you wanna laugh and cry simultaneously.

Until last night I kept him in the kitchen by a barrier of boxes and luggage. Thursday night the little devil somehow managed to launch himself 3 times up and over the barrier. Amazing given that he can hardly walk. I tore down the wall of boxes and built a kitty-stair case to my bed so that he can climb on and off without hurting his recovery.

He still eats like a champ. He even rolls onto his back every now and again to ask for a tummy-rub. He purrs and snuggles just like old times. Priceless.

Oscar update

2008-04-12T15:14:00.000-07:00

I was supposed to pick Oscar up today, but they decided to keep him through the weekend because he has a slight temperature (something like 102, where the norm is 101.2?). The Doc says he's "eating and [insert your favorite bathroom word] like a champ," so I guess that's good.

I visited him in the recovery ward today. He looks awful. There's all of this iodine staining on his pretty white fur. His belly is totally bald w/a 6" incision and stitches - his fat looks a lot fatter when it's not fuzzed over with glossy fur. His front left wrist is shaved also for the IV that he had earlier. He was doped up when I saw him...it was sad.

He was a little agitated at first and wanted to jump off the table. I didn't want him to jump but I was afraid of picking him up. finally I kind of cradled him by the neck and under the tail. Once he was on the floor he paced around a bunch and looked disoriented. So I finally scooped him up onto my lap where he settled down and laid his chin on my palm. He didn't purr, but he seemed to enjoy the chin scratch. After a minute or so he stopped thrashing his tail and chilled.

Of course I cried. When don't I cry? I'm a baby.

Hopefully I'll get him all in one piece on Monday after classes

Oscar lives!!

2008-04-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

Oscar's prognosis is looking up: Dr. Marks is the 1st of 4 vets to finally figure out the underlying problem (4 vets, 2 years, and maybe $2,000).

She took an x-ray and found that he has several fused vertebra from some old spinal injury. (The minute she said that , I knew what it was: his previous owner's pit bull grabbed him by the throat and shook him like a rag doll). Anyway, one of the fused sections has enclosed the bundle of nerves that communicates with the digestive system. Hence his repeated "episodes". She also suspects his back hurts to posture, which adds to the problem.

Unfortunately, the $5,000 surgery she first mentioned would not be helpful, because he would just need it all over again in a couple of years. Also, the fused disks cannot be repaired. However, she can remove the part of his digestive system that is "incommunicado" - a sort of bypass, if you will. It will unfortunately result in life-long incontinence, a trade-off I am totally willing to make. Also, the surgery will cost about $2,000 and my Dad has offered to loan me the $ till next summer when I earn the big $$.

Oscar will go into surgery next Thurs and should be recovered by the time we move to Vegas mid-May. Phew!

Emergency cat-surgery loan extension??

2008-04-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

Warning: if you don't like reading depressing blog posts, the kind written through bleary-tear filled eyes, move on.

Oscar needs a $3,000 to $5,000 surgery (narrower estimate forthcoming). Just when I thought life couldn't get worse 2.5 weeks before finals, 1 week before oral argument, 1 day before the first Wigmore show.

The good news: his persistent and escalating health problem (some of my readers know what I mean) is not a symptom of cancer, renal failure, diabetes, etc.

The bad news: it is an unfortunate physical failure that, without corrective surgery, will develop into internal bleeding and infections etc. I can maintain him by learning some unpleasant procedures for a little while (on my way to the vet in an hour for instruction), but he is deteriorating rapidly.

Now I have to decide just how much I love my kitty-man (in dollars). A choice I am in no place to make. Not to sound selfish, but this isn't the kind of thing I can even wrap my head around so close to final exams. Even more selfish, I don't think I can give him up until I get through this stormy period in my life...if ever.

Solutions? Not sure that there is one. I have e-mailed financial aid to see if there's an emergency-pet-surgery budget extension [a massive stretch]. I can look into high interest rate private loans. Benefit concert? Bake-sale...no time.

If he could just stay healthy for one more year I could afford him. But this summer will see no income, only more debt. I'm already struggling to make the summer work financially.

If you know of any Chicago clinics / charities that help out in such situations, the info would be invaluable to me.

Say a prayer for us, reader.

Warning: Don't order from Overstock.com

2008-03-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

In the age of on-line clothes shopping, much like it's predecessor, catalog shopping, a decent return policy is key. Otherwise a gal just can't trust what she sees on her computer screen - it might not fit, the color may be wrong. This goes for reputable vendors as well low-overhead clearinghouses like Overstock.

Hypothetical:
law student, let's call her Erin, with no time to shop in the real world visits Overstock.com where she purchases a cocktail dress for the upcoming ball. Erin stupidly paid $20 for expedited delivery, so the total came to $133...a fair price to pay if the dress fits. Alas, it does not fit. So Erin folds the dress back up, the tags are still on, the dress has only seen daylight for 5 minutes, and she mails her disappointment back to Overstock.com.

Erin realizes there will be a shipping cost, she even accepts that there may be some small restocking fee...imagine Erin's surprise when she only received a credit of $42. An e-mail from the offending business explains that she was deducted a $46 "used item" charge. Trusting that a mistake was made, and naively believing in the existence of Overstock's business sense, she calls customer service. Overstock's barely literate teenage representative informs Erin that the warehouse found a hair on the dress. Hence the $46 deduction.

A hair?!! Gasp! How could she have been so thoughtless as to let a piece of her hair fall on the dress?

At this point Erin throws a fit, batters the illiterate spokesperson into submission, and gets her $46.

Let's review the math:
Dress + shiping + tax: $ 133
Return Label Cost: $ -4.50
Total refund after kicking Overstock's butt: $88.50
Erin's lost opportunity cost: Inestimable...Erin could have finished an entire section of her brief with the time she wasted on these undeserving fools.

So buyer beware - unless you live in a hermetically sealed bubble or you are bald - Overstock and it's return policy are not to be trusted.

Courtney - yes, this is another in my series of fruitless letters to offending businesses. On a 1 to 10 scale of consumer-rage I'm giving this one a 15. I wish you could have heard the "fit."

Prom II

2008-02-24T10:45:00.001-08:00

Did you ever wish for a prom do-over? Then come to law school!

Barrister's ball (or as Lisa likes to say: Barrister's balls), law-school prom. The only thing missing was puberty.

Me and my gals at the ball (you can't see my pretty dress very well, I'll post another as soon as my camera is charged):

Valentine shmalentine

2008-02-14T13:28:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentines Day readers!

Another reason why law school is like high school:
Wigmore Follies (in case you missed the last post - that includes yours truly) sold candygrams and singing telegrams to raise money for the show. The singing telegrams were delivered/performed in class.

This morning I had the pleasure of joining a 5 person valentines ensemble in my property class. We serenaded a certain M. Eubanks with "I like Eubanks" to the tune of "I've got you babe."

I'm 26 and there I was shaking like a leaf for my 2-line solo: "Maybe this song ain't too polite, but babe I'm sick of all these lonely nights" in front of my proff and class mates. Nothing like a little humiliation to get the day started on the right track.

Long lost blogger

2008-01-26T13:29:00.000-08:00

Yikes. It's been a while.

Back in gear. Have 2 truly amazing professors, one average guy, and one total stinker.

Here's what I'm learning about this semester: property, our constitution, employment discrimination, American legal history (the coolest class ever!), and more research/writing.

Here's what I'm doing this semester: more habeas chorus acappella ensemble, and Wigmore Follies annual musical comedy. I play Judge #2 (2 lines), and I have a 2 line solo in the all-cast song. It's not much, but I'll take it! (some of you will recall that Wigmore Follies was the tie breaker for me when I was shopping for schools).

Inevitably, as all West Coasters must, I need to tell you about the weather here. It was -20 the other day. So cold that when I breathe without the aid of a scarf over my mouth I cough uncontrollably. So cold that I am forced to wear this chin to toes brown puffy coat. I literally look like a big brown...well, you get the point.

Back to work. Until next time!

The 8th day of Chrismas

2007-12-19T18:44:00.000-08:00

12 hours - the final final beings (Torts)

15 hours - First semester of law school, check.

35 hours - on a plane to Seattle, or else waiting with crowds of discontent holiday travelers at Midway

How apropos (Crazy Cat Lady)

2007-12-07T18:40:00.001-08:00

Snow!

2007-12-06T11:40:00.000-08:00

Snow actually sticks here! And it's still there the next day.

I loved the first snow-fall. I ran outside and put my face up to the sky, smiling like an idiot. Couldn't help but notice the pedestrians around me, all clearly irritated by the weather and giving me this look that said "you just wait, you won't think it's magical once the novelty wears off."

They were right. Or at least, so long as the sun shines I love this winter-land. But as soon as the clouds blot out the sun and the wind starts stripping the skin off my face, I curse the snow and the cold and I long for the temperate Pacific coast.

Oscar is also unimpressed. I took a break from outlining criminal law last night, bundled him up in a towel, and took him downstairs to see the snow (his first ever). I plopped him in the middle of an un-touched fenced garden, and he sank up to his chest in the snow. No worries, I snatched him right back out as soon as he started crying. He spent the better part of the next hour licking himself...I love that little guy!

Two and 1/2 weeks left to go friends. Can't say I''m prepared, but I sure am ready for a break. Seattle-ites: see you soon!!!!

Light at the end of the tunnel

2007-11-29T21:06:00.000-08:00

Law school has hijacked my life. You knew it was coming. But I see a light at the end of this tunnel: winter break.

How they expect us to know enough already for finals is beyond my comprehension. Just a little over three months but so much information. More information than my cold & flu-congested head can contain at the moment.

I'm sick for the fourth time in as many months. Each iteration heralded by severe chest congestion, and I'm beginning to get worried. How to sit through four 3-hour exams when I'm blowing my nose and coughing all the time?

This too shall pass. Then I'll hop on a plane to Seattle and hibernate. I think I'll sleep for a week solid. It will be so nice. But wait! I'm supposed to use the break to find a job...guess sleep will have to wait, perhaps until I retire.

Finals?

2007-11-05T19:33:00.000-08:00

Barely a month to go...finals, what?

But I'm just a baby law-student!

They grow up so fast.

Miss you

2007-10-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

To my friends.

I miss you so very very much.

You all laughed, said I would have friends wherever I go. It was true. But no one replaces you.

I want to take a nap on Courtney's sofa and play with Ashley's hair. I need Vikki to tell me when I'm showing. I want to drink root beer floats with you under the stairs, lighting sparklers and singing to your mixed CD.

Let's sit on a couch with a big Mexican man and watch "Heros" at Kara's. I want to go camping with Ally; talk shoes with Alisa; sit by the fire in the institute foyer. I want to dress up like a construction worker for Halloween and kiss Ghost Rider.

Do you remember my nose-stick? M*A*S*H? I'll order everyone to put names on their cups, and then you can tease me about it whenever I'm being bossy.

Who's going to invite me to shows and make me fall in love with the lead and his wide-open-mouth-singing? I want to spend 8 hours shopping in the city with Lynn followed by that sinful chocolate cake on top of Macy's. I want to scream like a 7 year old girl at the sight of a raccoon and then laugh with you for being so silly. I miss it all.

I miss you all. My heart hurts I miss you so much.

Many a Fine Weekend

2007-10-01T09:13:00.000-07:00

The last post was in direct response to a request from Courtney that I share the pics from our last fine weekend.

But there were many fine weekends as the move to Chicago approached. Shall I name a few?

Alisa, Brett, Courtney and I picnicked in the sun and rode bikes...it was lovely

Ashley and I enjoyed our favorite guilty pleasure (btw Ashley, I have totally tracked down my Anthro)

And last but not least, my goodbye party and trip to the airport. You gals totally fulfilled my wish: a room full of people held together by their mutual heart brake at my impending departure.

Thanks for missing me at brunch. I missed you too.

One fine weekend

2007-09-28T17:11:00.000-07:00

For Courtney, my glamorous friend.

One fine weekend before leaving the sunny Bay Area, Courtney and I saw kites in the marina.
Not just any kites. This was a festival. Kites that fought each other out of the sky. Giant rainbow octopus kites. Crappy little dime store kites.

Hungry, we headed towards the hills, to Berkeley's Rockridge District and my favorite intersection: Ashby and College. La Mediterranee (restaurant of my heart I miss you so!!) fed us delicious filo and kebabs.

Then, bursting, we indulged in home-made specialty ice cream at Ici

Then to "Once," and to music that affects its listeners, and certainly affected us. Eh Courtney?

Hairpiphany?

2007-09-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

All that exciting hair news is moot.

As pleased as I was with the idea of growing out my hair, I was equally dissatisfied with its overall shape.

These feelings intensified until Sunday when I walked into a salon. Some irrational part of me thought I could have the shape evened out into a shag without actually cutting it any shorter....??

Once more, arevoir hair stick. Hello hot iron.

Oscar de la cat

2007-09-14T12:31:00.001-07:00

The kid seems pretty well settled:

Note the total abandon, caught as he was drifting off to sleep in a patch of Chicago sun.

In addition to his shameless belly-exposing, he has claimed the top of the bookcase for his own (mind you, this is a 7' tall object...quite a feat for an overweight middle aged cat).

Harpiphany II

2007-09-12T18:43:00.000-07:00

A big day in hair-news:

My hair is officially long enough to be put up in its "hair-stick." Many of my California readers will know to what I am referring.

Big day indeed!!

Fine Arts Fair & bad sushi

2007-09-10T16:02:00.000-07:00

I step out my door this weekend to find an arts fair, literally in my front yard.

Oooohd and aaaahd at the wares w/law school Sam then went for Sushi. It tasted good at the time. Of course it had a singularly Michigan twist: wassabi-mayonnaise.

Not sure if it was the fish or the mayonnaise, but upon comparing notes w/Sam learned that we had both been sick.

Poor gal, she missed classes today. As for me - I chalked it up to nervousness over choir auditions.

Bugs

2007-09-04T08:49:00.000-07:00

Ugh.

My lovely little stdio has bugs in the kitchen. I've seen 4 now - small and fast.

They only come out at night, they only come out at night, because the days are much too bright.

I've informed mgmt verbally twice, and in writing once. Grounds for termination of lease w/out impacting my deposit - housing code perhaps? Will have to look into it.

I can hardly bring myself to go into the kitchen for a glass of water after dark.

Weekend update

2007-08-31T20:38:00.000-07:00

My one week bench mark as a law student was marked by a game at Wrigley Field. Fellow students packed a couple of sections and it was clear that we've all found a place and become comfortable with our class.

Feels good.

I was studying in a comfy chair next to a bank of windows in the library that overlooks Lake Michigan and realized that I was smiling and had been for some time. I don't mean the kind of quiet smile we often make to ourselves. This was a full on smile. And that's pretty much how I've felt all week. I'm brimming with excitement.

I'm in love with the idea that all the killer hard work coming up will be for me - not for an employer. It feels great to be a student again, a state of being I was unable to enjoy as an undergrad with a full time job. I want to savor it since this is probably the last chapter of my life where I will have that sort of satisfaction.

I am where I am supposed to be.

Orientation cont'd

2007-08-29T16:19:00.000-07:00

You will all be pleased to know that orientation week is progressing swimmingly. Am keeping abreast, ahead even, of assignments and am excited for the first full week of classes.

Met 2 Lakeview'ers today while eating a solitary dinner on an outdoor patio, had pleasant conversation and exchanged numbers.

Lastly, my ladies that lunch (Bay Area chapter) will be interested to know that a number of fellow 1L female students and I have plans to brunch this Sat at La Creperie.Tre excited...

Hairpiphany

2007-08-26T15:07:00.000-07:00

The news you have all been waiting for:

My hair is now of a sufficient length to form decent natural waves and can be seen out-of-doors without first beating it into submission with blow drier and hot iron.
Arevoir cruel hot iron.

All checked-in

2007-08-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

Could not, for the life of me, sleep last night. Haven't had insomnia this bad in years. Got up and wrote thank-you letters, watched the classic original 1986 "Highlander" (there can be only one!!!!) and perhaps caught 2-3 hours of fitful sleep.

So I wasn't exactly fresh this morning for orientation check-in. Ah well, what can you do?

Had photos taken for my transit card & the class directory, picked up my class schedule, and took a huge hit in text book expenses. Whooooeeee! Those babies ain't cheap. Already have 2 assignments, though class doesn't officially being until 9/4.

The fire alarm went off while we were book shopping. The bookstore clerks had to sweep the store and force out those of us still clinging to our shopping lists (yes, I was one of them...would rather burn than miss out on the one lightly highlighted used Torts casebook). It was, of course, a false alarm.

Found me a locker buddy (officially referred to as a "locker mate"), a kid I met at the admit dinner hosted in San Francisco earlier in the year. Nice to see a friendly face.

Welcome to law school.

Orientation eve

2007-08-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

At last, the day has arrived (or will in 1hr and 42min). All my nesting, kitchen-stocking, gidget-purchasing, and other preparatory actions have come to fruition.

Nervous? Not so much...relieved? Definitely.

In other Erica's IT news:
1) Lexmark apparently supplies owners of new Lexmark printers neither ink nor data cables as a matter of practice. So my "cheap" printer was actually $20 (for the data cable) and $34 (for 2 ink cartridges) more expensive than I had reckoned - which puts it about even with the competing HP printers (the ink for which is far more prevalent and less expensive).

2) The replacement data cable I used to post the images featured in "Virtual Studio Tour" was $20. The digital recorder I purchased for classes was $57 and I discovered, upon opening it today, included the very same data cable required by my camera. Which begs the question: do I make yet another sweat-soaked trip to WorstBuy to return the extra cable? Is the frustration engendered by the mere sight of their sign worth the $20?? Maybe not...

3) My new laptop came today (thankfully complete and in working order...the exception in what has been a massive electronics headache). In fact, I am writing to you from the new laptop.

Tune in next blog for my report on the orientation check-in proceedings.

The Universe's idea of a joke

2007-08-22T10:29:00.000-07:00

So the Circuit City printer came.

It was missing the data cable and ink.

Seriously?

Another 45 min or so of being put on hold and transfered between departments. This time I'm told that I have to contact the manufacturer for any missing parts. Circuit City takes no responsibility for the quality of the product they ship to their customers.

Well, at least the glass wasn't broken this time. If it had been, I would really be up a creek since they didn't include any kind of return label.

I am at a loss. I'm walking across the street to Radioshack and buying a cable and ink.

"WorstBuy" continued

2007-08-21T21:38:00.000-07:00

And the BestBuy, hereby referred to as WorstBuy or WB, fiasco conclusion:

About 5 minutes after sending the very e-mail featured in this blog, I received an e-mail from WorstBuy informing me that my re-ordered printer was in fact back ordered and would not ship for 2 to 3 weeks.

So I threw in the towel, ordered the same model for slightly less from Circuit City (and if they don't beat WB in customer service I'm going to personally launch an on-line customer bill of rights campaign that will sweep the nation and completely reform the way these H-ers do business (yes Courtney, it has caught on in Chicago...or at leas it has caught on with me and I now reside in Chicago, but am confident that it will spread like wildfire).

Thinking I had closed this nasty chapter I affixed the return label included in the package, a label that had been twice confirmed by WB reps as a UPS label. I proceeded downstairs to meet my UPS driver (the guy is here promptly each day between 12:45 and 1:15) who informed me that he could not accept the package. The post man was also in the foyer, he looked at the label and said it was US mail but had to be taken in person to the Post Office.

What fresh H-crap was this? Did I not order on-line because my mobility is limited to my 2 feet or else the CTA bus? Does it not make sense that on-line WB orders include a UPS, FedEx, or DSL label for convenient return? In fact, this has been my experience with all on-line returns until now.

This ensued another volley of phone calls, e-mails, hair pulling, and mouth frothing. To no avail. They were stolid on their refusal to offer me any convenient means of getting rid of the accursed printer.

So I took a length of rope I had used the week previous to tie my armchair to the roof of my rental car, and I lashed the hunk of junk to my rolling backpack. I donned my galoshes and set out into the rain that had been pouring for 3 days straight. I dragged that piece of H a little over a mile where I was met with a 25 minute line at customer service. They need to rename customer service to Hell!!!!!!

At last I was free. But they won. I still had to physically go to WorstBuy. So the whole on-line arm chair "convenience" blew up in my face and WorstBuy had the last laugh.

Really, I hate them.

Humble abode

2007-08-20T21:00:00.000-07:00

At long last! A virtual tour of my posh Chicago studio:

The foyer

Living room / siting room

The bedroom

The study / Dining room

The library

The laundry

And that, dear friends and readers, is where I now reside. It's small but it's cozy. And these images don't do the yellow paint justice - bright enough to ward off the cabin fever that apparently afflicts newcomers to Chicago each winter.

Angry letter to Best Buy

2007-08-18T10:07:00.000-07:00

The latest disgruntled customer letter writing campaign, e-mailed to various BestBuy departments this morning (you don't have to point out the futility, it's more cathartic than anything):

I ordered on-line a Lexmark all-in-one printer 8/14 which arrived via UPS 8/17 with a shattered glass scanner. I do not have a car and don't live near enough to a BestBuy to resolve this in person. My school starts 8/24 and I needed a printer by that date.

I called 1-888-bestbuy per the instructions on my receipt. I was re-routed 4 times before reaching the on-line customer service department. I was placed on hold two separate times for OVER 30 minutes. My call was even dropped once. Among the various departments I was routed to were computer hardware tech support and customer service receipts...does that even make sense? Aren't your representatives trained to route people correctly? Or are you hiring high-school dropouts unable to operate a phone set?

In all, I spent nearly 2 hours attempting to have the merchandise re-delivered to me. It finally took speaking to a supervisor to resolve this problem.

This was by far the worst customer service experience I have had outside of the DMV. BestBuy delivered a broken product; I was penalized for this in the time I wasted on the phone, the frustration I experienced, and the cost of shipping.

---------

I'll be adding this to the following previous campaigns:
- To the writers of "24" re: the need to escape the nuclear pigeon hole and invent a more subtle threat (such as an EMP)
- To the writers of "Grays Anatomy" re: the complete let-down that was the second season premiere (or was it the 3rd? The one where they're quarantined for some disease and having all kinds of lame flash backs)
- To Banana Republic re: the declining quality and design of their product and the need to introduce better designers and/or fire their old ones.
- To the City of Berkeley Supreme Court re: their mis-filing of my j-walking ticket as a traffic ticket "failure to yield to pedestrian" which resulted in a $400 increase in my car insurance, a $10 DMV fee to have my record corrected, and about 2 weeks of visits to the records department to locate the case and resolve it.
- To various shoe designers requesting that they introduce a brilliant blue, sued or soft flat leather, almond-toe ballet flat. This was sent first to Manolo as my favorite but least affordable designer, and second to Marc Jacobs as my favorite affordable (when on-sale) designer.

26

2007-08-17T23:33:00.000-07:00

26...Celebrated w/Chicago-friend Sharon and her BF. Good company, and a nice arevoir to my early 20's.

26...Shouldn't I have some kind of investment portfolio or own a car?

Life could be worse. Exciting new city, cute new apartment, big new adventures.

Shopped for suits yesterday - not exactly a pick-me-up. I may have the fashion know-how for dating, living etc. but for the legal profession? It's a whole new world. I'm told I'll have to get rid of the highlights and remove the nose ring :( All the more incentive to make a name for myself fast, earning the autonomy to dress business-creatively rather than business-cookie-cutter-formal.

Orientation check in is in 6 days. In the word(s) of Shaggy: Zoinkers!!

Nesting

2007-08-14T15:00:00.000-07:00

Packed the cat and all worldly belongings off to Chicago via UPS, Courtney's station wagon, and ATA airlines. And here I am, at a corner tea-cafe in the Lakeview neighborhood, endeavoring to join the blogosphere (well, non-anonymously that is) and stay connected to my loved ones some 2,100 mi away.

Once I get my camera's data cable (left it in Oakland!) readers will have the treat of an on-line tour of the new abode. A spoiler: I've painted 3 walls a taxi-cab yellow to warm me through the bitter cold winter months I've been instructed to anticipate. I must say the place looks like my home. So much so that I step out my door and am repeatedly surprised to find myself in Chicago, and not Lake Merrit.

On the subject of safety: maybe it's the honeymoon glow, but this place seems so safe! People out on cafe patios until the wee hours, sitting on stoops and engaging in the kind of loitering that would have invited a mugging back in dear old Oak-town. I'm so accustomed to avoiding the out-doors after 10p that I hardly know what to do with this new freedom!

Lastly, re: making friends. People are friendlier here, there's no hesitation to give directions, help carry heavy goods, or exchange life stories with a total stranger (yes friends, I know that I've repeatedly placed talkative strangers in my list of pet peeves, but for now I'm going to take what I can get). As for true friendship, well that'll take some time. I'm already prepared with 2 folding chairs, flatware and dishes for 5...that sounds sad, as though I have an empty table set for 5.

Well, I don't have a table, I only have a desk, so there!