21st Grade

So by all accounts, many detailed right here, 2010 has been kicking my ass. Ok, thanks, that's enough... unfortunately there are 4+ more months of 2010.
I had a thought last night, though, what if it's not "2010" but academic year 2009-2010? We moved to Arizona a year ago, at the end of our academic-year based lease and Charlie started working right around now. I got hired and started my job at the end of August. We were all polished up and ready for 20th grade. And the beginning of the fall was ok. Then my grandma died. Then I started studying for the Arizona bar. Then I started being abused at work. Then I was still studying for the Arizona bar. Then I took it. Then I started studying for the Navajo bar. Then I took it. Then there was about 3 weeks of breathing room. Then I learned I passed both bars. Then Navajo wouldn't let me swear in because Arizona was slow with my character and fitness. Then I got offered a lawyer job. Then my dad got arrested in Rwanda. Then they gave the job to someone else because Arizona was slow with my character and fitness. Then a couple more weeks of total bizarre terribleness getting my dad out of Rwanda. Then my work hired someone who just sat for the AZ bar over me (and everyone else) who was already licensed. There was probably more and that about brings us up to now. And, of course, all of this happened with my one real friend in Arizona/joint tenant with right of survivorship living away from home 3 nights/week.
Of course there were good things over the past year, too. I did get a job when I moved to AZ. The schedule of living apart half time was not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. The fall was full of hikes and exploring this new place. We bought a house. We got a new wonderful pup. I went to 4 beautiful and terribly fun weddings and got to share the fun with all kinds of people I love from all over the place. I passed two bars! I'm licensed in Arizona! We're getting new windows!
But, all in all, this past 12 months has been really, really tough. I've spent a lot of time alone and more energy than I have ever had to or should have to trying to maintain my sense of self and self-confidence through blow after blow.
However. Here we are, starting 21st grade. Charlie will live here full-time in his new job starting Monday. Maybe I'll need to get new clothes, not for school but for court. I'll spend the fall getting to know new friends and learning a new system, like the old days. I like this academic year idea because after this many years of schooling, there is something that feels new about the beginning of fall. A more natural start-over than the middle of winter, post-holiday noisemaking. I also like the idea, frankly, because it means that this year of ass-kicking is over. I don't have to wait until December, new beginnings start now. God, I hope I'm on to something because I'll tell you, if real school had been as hard for me as this past year in U of Hard Knocks, I definitely would have dropped out long ago. And then I'd have so many fewer things to hang framed on the wall of my office!

Hair!

I have about 18 draft posts about my dissatisfaction with my job, various personal injustices, the "debate" over the 14th amendment and all other kinds of malarkey. But we both know you're here to talk about my hair. So I got real-er bangs today, going back to the hairstyle of ages 2-10 instead of the same basic one I've reverted to for ages 22-29. I'm not going to say I was trying to look like Zooey Deschanel... but unsolicited she was mentioned by my stylist as an inspiration. The stylist even suggested we google her... um, no, ahem, I know what her bangs look like... Aside from getting used to having hair all over my forehead, so far the biggest challenge I anticipate is getting ID'd even more frequently. Seriously, as if that were possible.

Summer Saturday

If there's something wrong with spending a Saturday in August sleeping late, listening to NPR, drinking coffee, painting neon orange nails, throwing balls to dogs in the yard, discovering Pushing Daisies is as good as everyone says it is and cooking elaborate breakfast AND dinner..



Well, then I don't want to be right.

Uncle Bill

Uncle Bill was one of those uncles who wasn't actually related to us. He was a friend of the family to my dad's mom's parents. He never had kids and by the time I was born, was already pretty old and had moved to Florida. Apparently back in the day it was rather scandalous that the swedes were BFF with this Jewish guy... little did they know about the subsequent miscegenation to befall the secretly already-muddied family tree. (this is the subject of another explanation, the hilariously awkward interactions with the swedish family members about rumors of horse-traders staying at the family farm and how our branch of the family tree ended up rather swarthy as compared to the other branches...)
But Bill was always a presence, we stayed with him when we visited Disney World circa 1989 or so and he'd visit my grandparents regularly. I remember at some point coming down my grandparents' stairs and smelling cigarette smoke, being so confused and shocked that Bill was smoking in their living room. He explained that he'd never been a smoker, but once he turned 90, he started smoking one cigarette a day because, why not?
Uncle Bill died at the end of high school for me, before anyone I really knew had died. His estate was designated for my grandma, my uncle, my dad and me, in diminishing shares. I finally got my share sometime during my senior year in college. It seemed like a tremendous amount of money at the time. And it was. It paid for the last semester of college when my parents wouldn't. It financed quitting my miserable job to travel to Peru for a month. It went toward almost two months in Africa before law school. And the final chunk made the down payment on our house. There's no "lesson" here, just a belated "thank you" to Uncle Bill. You've made many important and good things happen in my life over the past few years. Thanks for helping me finish college, for some amazing travel experiences that helped make me, me. And thanks for our house! Thanks.

Relationships

New local lawyer acquaintance, trying to figure out why I moved here: "So, is one of you in some kind of relationship with Charlie?"
Me: Giggle. "Um, me, we're in 'some kind' of relationship."
Charlie: "Um, we prefer Joint Tenants with Right of Survivorship."

Either way, 'some kind' of relationship, all right.