Some Days/Weeks

Having a job that feels important is not all it is cracked up to be.

This Summer, So Far

And there went a month! This summer, more than others, I’ve really been appreciating how great summer is. I think doing it right has a lot to do it with, doing summer-specific things and not just living the same way in warmer weather. There have been a lot of highlights, but the quiet quality and enjoyment has been the best. In the past month of summer, I…

Drove up the Pacific Coast Highway in an orange Camero convertible.

Had a fire and drank wine at the ocean.

Walked bare-armed and sun-kissed home.

Ate tamales and fish tacos with a view of the Pacific.

Trained tomato plants into a trellis cage.

Walked dogs after work, enjoying the extended light.

Hung out by the lake in Michigan.

Read 5 paper back mysteries in a swing over 4 days.

Had two milkshakes one day, and then two rootbeer floats the next.

Drank hard Arnold Palmers at dusk.

Suntanned my legs.

Whacked weeds, watered raspberries, moved indoor plants outdoors.

Wore skirts and dresses to work, most days.

Drank drinks on a patio.

Shopped the farmer's market.

Stopped by, “just for gelato…”

Picked blueberries.

Watched a hula.

Celebrated national Hot Dog day.

Saw old friends, saw new friends, made even newer friends.

And probably a lot more. And still it seems, none of these things enough—but trying and succeeding in being present and thankful and enjoying life, are good things to do in any season.

poignant

Late the following morning, I picked her up from beside the quad. Her grin was uncontrollable as she got into the car, and her voice, usually measured, was a barely punctuated garble of names and details. Had I read Andrey Platonov’s “Foundation Pit” (she’d been to a class on it)? She met this kid who. . . . It was pledge night for boys trying to get into fraternities. . . . There was a picnic. . . . Everybody’s door was open. . . . They stayed up until after midnight, talking and singing. . . . She played a borrowed ukulele. . . . There was a boy who’d been a year ahead of her at elementary school in Seattle. . . . Everybody said. . . .
She’d picked up the slang and was talking ProFros and RoHos.
“I haven’t seen you like this since you were 7,” I said.
“I’m so excited, it’ll make the rest of high school unbearable if I get to thinking too much about it.”
She calmed down over lunch. Her great worry, she said, had been that she would never again have friends as close as those she made at high school; that college students would keep themselves to themselves and be hard to get to know. Overnight all her fears had been gloriously dispelled. Her two-house life in Seattle had, she said, helped ready her to go away. “At least I know I can survive without one parent at a time.”

This essay made me misty, poignant in a lot of ways.

Life is Weird

It is. I almost want to make an "it gets better" video for early and mid-twenty-somethings. Because I feel like it does and no one tells you and I'm there and it's so much better than it was. But I was just looking at pictures of someone's trip to New York on facebook. And whenever I do that, I get a little sad.
I get sad because I love New York. I do. And I think of the 2003-2006 period when I lived there and the friends and times and experiences that happened there and then. Now I love going there and being there and have a connection to it, maybe a little like I feel with New Orleans also, where it feels like the place/life I could have lived and therefore it will always be a little bit "home." But then there's the weird thing about adulthood... I feel like I've realized that while I love and respect New York... it's not the right place for me. I proved I could make it there, but then chose not to. And that's a "right for me" decision... the things I need from the life I want don't have to happen there. But they could. And that's the crazy thing. I don't think it's particularly interesting or admirable, but I've moved around a lot in the past ten years. East Coast to midwest to southwest. And here's the thing... there's a lot of places I could be and could be happy. Changing homes so often means both I carry my home with me, but also that lots of places are a little bit "home."
I remember talking to high school seniors applying to Wesleyan--both in Madison and here in Flagstaff, and I'd remind them that something like 96% of people love college (of course this was meant as encouragement if they didn't get into their top choices.) Yes, that's not everyone, but of those 96% people... do they love it because somehow they selected the right college for them? No. College is awesome. They loved it because it's awesome. Of course, if everyone went to Wesleyan, it would be 100%, but that would destroys the specialwes. Anyway. My point is the weirdness of life and how there are so many different paths and directions but how so many of them to lead good and great things. The other week, Erin remarked something like that it's so weird that I'm a public defender and I lived in Flagstaff, Arizona. And it is... but for a Minneapolis kid, is it really that much weirder than being an assistant in Manhattan? Not really. A different kind of weird.
And is life in general like college? Well, literally, no. Tragically it is too little like college. But metaphorically, can things be great if you land in variety of different places? Yeah, I think. Of course this does beg the question... if we can do awesome anywhere, why didn't we pick a place closer to people we love? It's the adventure. Or that's what we say. There this on Jezebel last week, about what a dad should teach a daughter... and I like it. Partly because most of things I did learn from my very excellent dad-of-a-daughter but one is probably missing-- landing on your feet. It's a skill. It not a skill learned like changing a tire, but that's part of it. Being self-sufficient and flexible is what I'd like my kids to be... and if it means they successfully build a life in a place none of us anticipated... I think I'd be proud. It's a good sign. Then again, it doesn't matter where it is, I'd be proud and I am proud of a successfully built life anywhere.

More Important: Many Good Things Also Happening

1. Long hikes. Last one was Thursday with another lawyer from my office that involved almost 3 hours of hiking and about 3 hours of drinking mimosas after. Perfect ratio, as far as I am concerned.

2. FREE regular-sized Aveda shit (shampoo/conditioner) for referring Charlie to my haircutting place. It was offered literally right after I was browsing all the product and telling myself something like, "Sarah, when you pay off your credit card, you can only use Aveda products." So, look for me to smell great all the time in, like, 10 years.

3. It's almost Thanksgiving! Which means a) delicious and b) another trip to Minnesota, which is usually always fun. Also reminds me of the kid in my math class senior year who was kind of slow and sometime in the first couple weeks of school in September said, "I can't wait for Thanksgiving, I'm so hungry!"

4. I'm getting sent to a class in Phoenix on Friday for work, which I believe is my first business trip and involves staying over Thursday night in a hotel. Look for me to make a lot of references to my business trip and to specify I am there for business, not pleasure.

5. I want a gas fireplace insert for Christmakkah. It would so improve our quality of life but is non-essential and costs multiple thousand of dollars. Santa, you're on notice. Any concern about becoming domesticated and old and lame is obviously now moot. I am including this in "good things happening" to demonstrate the power of positive thinking.

6. I came into work today to a thank you card from a client's family. I did good for him and getting thanked... is great. Good start to a new week.

Framed!

I know this is weird, but I've always had this kind of dark secret... well, not really fear, but more like knowledge that someday I'll be convicted of a crime I didn't commit. Kind of like every time I get sick I wonder if this is going to be the terrible terminal exotic disease that means the end of me. I am not sure if other people think this way. Saying it out loud makes it sound super weird. But anyway, maybe connected is that I hate being blamed for things I didn't do. This is unfortunately sometimes a part of my job... but really, what is worse than being blamed for something you either weren't responsible for or affirmatively did the opposite of? Almost nothing, that's what.

Anyway, I had a lovely veteran's day on Thursday which was capped by this really upsetting realization that over the past several months, someone in my life has been acting one way to my face and telling deluded lies behind my back about things I never did and motivations I don't have. I mean, like, totally bat-shit stuff. My point is not to drag this loser through the mud on the internet, my point is to mention how terrible it feels to be blamed for something you didn't do. I don't need to go into details, but it is truly pathological. Like acting as though this person was trying to be my friend while bad-talking me and making things up behind my back. Ahem. Not a very big loss in terms of a potential friend (wow, that is such a classy and healthy way to act) but nonetheless jarring to hear an account of your actions that not only is false, but also makes you look like this terrible person you are trying very hard not to be.

It's frustrating, too, because in the same ways I have to walk a line between correcting a judge's misstatement about what I did or said and saying "NUH-UH!" it's also apparently not acceptable to counter a rude person by, say, bringing up what I consider their physical flaws in every single conversation like this person has. Or try to exact revenge.

I guess my frustration also comes from being really too old for this. I used to get so upset in elementary school because I didn't have many friends and my friends were always disappointing me. I remember my mom telling me that I just had to wait, that other kids would catch up and then I would find friends who meet my standards. She was right, and I have. I have a lot, a lot of great friends. I try very hard (and I think I succeed) in being a great friend and it is reciprocated. I have a lot of very successful and meaningful friendships. So it's insane to run up against this terrible person (or remember that nutso from law school who made all this friend-drama for me 1L year?) It feels very unfair to be accused of not being something I've tried very hard to be-- a good friend. It's frustrating because as much as we can know, yes it's because someone else is insecure, yes it's a reflection of them, not me... turning the other cheek can be so terribly unsatisfying.

I also don't like it because it makes me mean. Because I start saying things like this person is ugly and pathetic and I want to kick in her teeth. All perhaps true, but that kind of anger and meanness is so not productive and is really toxic. And the world is mean and toxic enough and my job involves people being or being the victim of meanness and toxicity. So I want to spend my free time with people who want to be kind to each other and be generally positive and who don't gain self-esteem by putting others down like it's 1988 and we're on the playground of Anderson Open School. Let me clarify, I want to spend my free time to with people who are kind to each other both behind and in front of each others backs. If no such people are available, I'm cool with hanging out alone.

I am additionally frustrated (for some reason this is bothering me a lot- it has been making me huffy for days now and I wish it wasn't because it's stupid and waste of energy but I can't stop) because I didn't trust my instincts. I never liked this person. But I tried. I made an effort. Even after my dad was in Rwandan jail and she made sure to tell me she had contacts at the State department but was calling them for another reason. Um, ok. That's awesome. See, that's your prerogative, but don't tell me about it. Like I should understand. Of course, thanks for letting my know exactly where my crisis fits in terms of order of importance to you. So I should have known better, I shouldn't have made an effort, I shouldn't have overlooked assholey things in the past. But I did- and I got burned.

When I was feeling really mad, I was thinking things like, "oh you want to tell people I don't like you, wait to you see what me not liking you really feels like" and then probably something about the teeth-kicking again. But in reality, nothing dramatic will happen. I'll spend time with people I like, or alone, and get the slim satisfaction out of living well and being the bigger person. Bigger person save a facebook defriending... of course. And in terms of false convictions, one uncool person thinking I am a bad friend is way better than going down for a murder I didn't commit. I guess I'll take it.

I Gotta Wear Shades (Future's So Bright)

Hey Sarah, how the hell are you? Busy. But good. Really good. At some time last winter, even before a good portion of the badness of AY2009-2010 happened, I was listening to This Year by the Mountain Goats. And thinking about how it was on a mix my friend Rachel made me for New Years 2006 and how many times since then it's been a kind of internal mantra. I have clearest memories of walking to the law school on exam days, listening to that song on repeat. At the time I incidentally walked north on Mills St. where I lived, which kind of fit with the song.



Anyway, last winter I was listening to it and thinking "Jesus Christ, when will 'this year' finally be over??" Well, of course, 'this year' never ends, there is a cycle of challenges, apparently until we die... But, in terms of the other side of the hardest year? Yeah, I'm there.

Work is good. Great. It feels wonderful to say it every time. It's also extremely challenging-- intellectually, emotionally but also exactly what I signed up for. I have a supportive boss, great and experienced co-workers, autonomy... Can I gush more? I am learning so much, so quickly. It's exhausting and exhilarating. It's made me realize that I've had a lot of bad jobs... (and some good ones).

It's been gratifying, too, because, it turns out not only is this what I want to be doing... but I'm not bad at it. I mean, considering I'm in week 7. Two highlights of Friday included a judge saying I must have practiced somewhere before here because I have a "great presence" in court and then, of course, the client who told me she liked me because of the register of my voice, because I was wearing a turquoise shirt and because I was white. Did I mention comic relief? That's a big part of the job, too.

I think I didn't realize how much my professional dissatisfaction was impacting my general world-view. Like, I have a job now that's frustrating in a lot of ways and emotionally draining in many as well, but I also feel like people think I'm smart and capable and I do feel like a total badass in it at least once a day. So that's awesome, right?

Also, despite what my mother says, I can paint my nails virtually any color I want and wear it to court (rainbow sparkles is probably more than I'd try, I'm talking like orange and red and dark purple). And then get people out of jail. Because I am a total badass and that's what I do.

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!

April, so far

With hopefully the last (Navajo) bar exam under my belt, April started with visits from Madison friends and Charlie's parents and the night before Easter spent in a 4+ star resort in Phoenix drinking margaritas in a hot tub for $38/night including tax. That rules, right? It looked like this:


Then this last week was pretty terrible and tough at work. And too many (being any) tears of frustration were shed. But, thankfully, life works in funny and serendipitous ways. Like, just when you're feeling frustrated and lonely, it's time for a dear friend's wedding where you get to see and make merry with, like, 90% of your favorite people in the world. That, too, rules.
A year ago we went to Nashville (apparently just like Addie, et al) and it was superfun.



And a year later, this weekend, we're headed to Dallas to celebrate Alijo and Coco's nuptials. It's going to be very fun. And, as it turns out, sorely needed.

Obama

Every once in a while, every once in a while a moment comes where you have a chance to vindicate all those best hopes that you had about yourself, about this country, where you have a chance to make good on those promises that you made in all those town meetings and all those constituency breakfasts and all that traveling through the district, all those people who you looked in the eye and you said, you know what, you’re right, the system is not working for you and I’m going to make it a little bit better.

And this is one of those moments. This is one of those times where you can honestly say to yourself, doggone it, this is exactly why I came here. This is why I got into politics. This is why I got into public service. This is why I’ve made those sacrifices. Because I believe so deeply in this country and I believe so deeply in this democracy and I’m willing to stand up even when it’s hard, even when it’s tough.

Every single one of you have made that promise not just to your constituents but to yourself. And this is the time to make true on that promise. We are not bound to win, but we are bound to be true. We are not bound to succeed, but we are bound to let whatever light we have shine.

-This man is not perfect, he's not a silver bullet and he has disappointed in so many ways already. But goddamn if he doesn't talk like the president we wish he was. The president I still hope we deserve.

Mean People Suck

I recently became friends with the accountant from my old job on facebook. My first job-job. Where they made me cry all the time and once told me when I hadn’t done what they’d wanted but also hadn’t been given clear, no, any instruction, that it was “amateur.” I was 23. Yes, an amateur.

I decided to take the LSAT while I was still working there, I didn’t want the added stress of being unemployed or just starting a new job. I signed up for the Fall administration of the test in 2004 and later went into one of the partner’s offices. This was the “nice” one. I told him I was taking the LSAT and I wanted to take the week before it off. He said, “Sure, you can have that time off, but if I were you, Sarah, I’d really reconsider going to law school. It’s very competitive and difficult and you’re obviously… overly sensitive.”

This remains probably the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me. I think it’s mean because, well, it’s just an asshole thing to say to someone. But it also shows the way he saw me, which is the complete opposite of how I’ve ever wanted to be perceived—weak and incompetent? Um, no. It’s also mean because, um, LAW SCHOOL IS NOT THAT HARD. I mean, it was a lot of work, but intelligence has nothing to do with it. No one knew the girl who graduated first in our class because she was not being “competitive,” she was studying at home alone and never speaking to her classmates. That’s insane, not "competitive."

The incident created lots of fodder for jokes among my friends at work, the most popular alternative career suggestions were bunny farmer and flower arranger. You know, so my feelings don’t get hurt.

Anyway, reconnecting with the accountant, she mentioned this episode and how she wanted to drop a line to that partner, tell him I graduated and am on my way to being barred in 3 jurisdictions. I told her not to bother, he has received employment verifications for each of these background checks. He knows. He knows I worked in a federal prison, he knows I was admitted to Wisconsin, he probably by now knows about Arizona. He may not know he’s a total asshole, but I do. And that he was completely, absolutely and dead wrong.

3 Good Things

First, this brought me great joy today. May I present, Gus Being Awesome:


Second, after 19 years of school, this is hopefully the last one of these I'll ever need to assemble...


Third, sometimes love is "I love you, you've got this, you're going to do great." And sometimes love is, "I bought you a bottle and a box in case you wanted to bring wine to Phoenix but forget a corkscrew."


Onwards and upwards, see you on the other side!!

Promises, Promises

I promised, to myself and to you, that I wouldn’t complain about bar preparations very much here. And I think I’ve pretty much stuck to that, but my first real bar-related melt-down last night is a good reason to make a rare exception. I was upset in a way that only a tremendous amount of stress and a couple glasses of Sunday night wine can make a person. I had been pretty blasé about the bar, until I started studying. Out of the hundreds of people I know who have taken bar exams (aside from kooky ones like Louisiana) only a handful haven’t passed the first time. Even counting Louisiana it’s a large handful. Arizona isn’t considered particularly easy or particularly hard-- 84% of first-time test-takers pass. The rate is significantly lower overall in February test administrations, but that’s because of the way higher number of re-takers. I went to a good law school and I am not a moron. I know all of this. Yes, I’ve never been in the bottom 16% of anything (I’d say I’ve never failed anything, but those who have been with me for long enough may remember the 12th grade post-college admittance dance class debacle. Fun fact.) I’ve never failed anything I’ve attended, how about that?
The thing is… neither have most people who don’t pass bar exams. The people I know who haven't passed... well, some of them are morons, but some of them are great people who I greatly respect. The opposite of moron!
These truths (and the appropriate and appreciated reassurances from the one I sob next to) don’t do a lot for the blind fear I am entering. Not only would I be disappointed in myself and frustrated by the approximately $5k I've sunk into this whole stupid episode… but I have become pretty profoundly unhappy in my current situation and the thought of continuing the way I am until October (instead of May or even July) is enough on its own to make me cry.
I am grateful to be employed and really, really like getting paid regularly (little as it may be…) And this situation continues to be about as good as it can be seeing as I chose to move where I am not licensed (for the Constitutionally-inclined, a friend on his upcoming move from IL to TX, “The irony of studying article IV privileges and immunities for the multi-state AGAIN because I can't change states and stay in my profession without jumping through multiple flaming hoops lit with hundred dollar bills from my wallet is not lost on me.”) Again, the difference between what I know and how I feel. I have a lot of things going really great. Charlie’s work situation is not ideal, but his work itself is great and we can bide some time until he can work within commuting distance from our house. Our house! That’s great. The dogs are awesome. Yes, there is so much good, but goddamn it, I want a career! I want to do things I am excited about and be a professional and not be the bottom rung of a situation very similar to the one I went to law school to escape. I hate when people talk about deserving things and being “entitled” to things is for jerks… but these are things I really want, have put the time and work into and have been very patient (I think) in waiting for them to happen.
The bar is three weeks from tomorrow. I am going to continue trying to conquer the extreme fear of “what if” and soldier on through. There is so much material… But, in 3 weeks, 2 days and 9 hours, I am going to drink soooo much more wine. And probably cry again. But hopefully in a good way.

Only Children

When it comes to birth order, the greatest bias is against the "only child." First, please remember, that in birth order the category is actually "only/first." But I digress. I am an only child. Well, kind of. I am my father's only child. I was an only child until a week before my tenth birthday when my mom had my sister (and I was warned, even at that young age, to never call her anything but my sister, because we came from the same womb.) But again, digression. So I identify with the only child. I know, from half of my parents what it is like to be their only child and from the other what it is to be her only child for ten years. And we get a bad rap! Truth be told, I know some terrible only children. But these are only children of intact couples, coddled along through adulthood. There is another kind of only child, the kind who was treated like an adult from a young age. And was expected to operate in an adult world. This is my kind of only child. This isn't the Veruca Salt, "Mommy, I want it NOW!" child. This is the child who learned big words and big concepts early on. This kid had a lot of adult interaction and, yes, was never in the team of kids ganging up on the parents, but had to negotiate for herself. There is no better or worse in birth order... oldest of ten kids and younger of two, it is all about explanation. However, I feel a bit hot sometimes when only children are categorized and dismissed. Because some only children feel very deeply for others and some only children are only the least little like the stereoytpes. And those only children sometimes feel like they've been fighting all the same fights "we" are now fighting, but for decades. So, odds are you know some awesome only children who have been saving your spot in adulthood... we don't need a thank you, just some kinds words the next time the dreaded "only child" comes up....

[Editor's Note: And we're only the least little bit self-righteous, too....]

Grandma Jane, Revisited

I am thinking a lot about my grandma this season, since this is the first Christmas we've celebrated without her... ever. Probably because of all the Swedish and traditional stuff, but I have especially strong associations with her and Christmas. Making Pepperkaker, the smorgasbord on Christmas eve, even the long-standing family love-hate with lutefisk. She had a sign in her house that said, "All hearts go home for Christmas, for love is always there." So maybe the association comes from her strong feelings about the holiday. She loved having everyone there, playing games, retelling stories-- classics now include the year my uncle misheard the swedish deli guy and boiled the lutefish for 45 instead of "4 to 5" minutes. Very typical family Christmas stuff, but if you haven't had to adjust your traditions yet... enjoy them while they last.
Finally, as I mentioned before, my grandma loved music and dancing. So I leave you, on this Christmas Eve, with a song everyone in the family loves singing at this time of the year. Merry Christmas!

Lately

I'll skip the b.s. since I never seem to make-up blog posts about things that have happened... since my last post Charlie's parents were here for a few days and then my mom was here for a week. A week (and then we've had another whole weekend since I started this post...) It was a good visit, I think good most importantly because there have been times, many times, in our relationship where a day-long visit would not have ended well. But this one was fine. My relationship with my mom is complicated and accounts for a lot of my "baggage" and is definitely not for public-blog consumption. BUT, perhaps through a combination of her changes and my own stability and recognition that while there are things I embrace very deeply about her (about both/all of my parents), I am not her and the things I don't like don't threaten me as deeply as they used to. Maybe it's growing up, maybe it's increasing exposure over the years to other parents, other people and the situations all kinds of people find themselves in. And maybe that all is growing up. It might sound elementary, but you can't pick your parents and you can't pick the terms of your birth. They're not perfect, they're just people.

Earlier this week an acquaintance-type facebook friend posted a rant about the SEPTA strike and how the drivers are greedy and a bunch of other drivel. It irked me incredibly. NO. I was raised, by my parents, to side with striking workers. People do not risk theirs jobs and strike unless it is important. I thought of last week, too, when I drove by people with signs in front of City Hall. My parents also taught me to, unless they're advocating something totally loony, honk and support them. They were for the public option. I honked. I thought of it while my mom was telling us the story of getting fired from her first lawyer job, while pregnant with me, on Christmas, after being elected president of her local. Thank you, parents. Thank you for giving me a head start on some of the lessons and values I hope I would have come to on my own eventually.

So yes, parents and family are flawed and disappointingly human. But I was happy to feel last week like I am increasingly able to appreciate the aspects that have made me who I am... and let the rest, as my mom would say, roll off my back.

Via Chicago

I fly to Chicago in eight hours, traveling from O'Hare to Lakeside. Like I did last winter when I was the last flight to land at O'Hare before Christmas. Or when I went back for my grandpa's funeral. Or when I flew back from study abroad in South America. Or countless times since my first visit, at a week old, the story goes.
I don't like living in a third-tier airport market. I don't like time zones and distance making it so hard to get back to where I need to be when I need to be there. I'm leaving at 6am and will roll in to Lakeside around dinner time. Unacceptable. Anyway, I delayed lots of feelings all week and have been having them a lot today. And feeling some of the costs of adventure.

Grandma Jane

Jane L. Biehl, Jane L. Erlinder, Jane L. Nesius
1915-2009

My grandma died this morning. She lived enough life for two people. She spoke Swedish, although she wouldn't admit it. She was a career woman before that was what women did. She loved to travel and sewed her grandchildren halloween costumes, I've been looking for the picture of me as Rainbow Brite at 4 to show you how awesome it was. She went from southside Chicago to Lakeside, Michigan, one of the most special places on earth. She could cut a mean rug, polka or otherwise, and loved to dance. She loved me so much, and those I loved. Even if towards the end she would ask, "whose dog is that?" But then would follow it up with, "he's such a nice dog." For the past few years, she inquired regularly about my "friend" Charlie. She made the best swedish meatballs. She was a lady in the purest sense, my mom tells how in all their painting of the Lakeside house when it was still a fixer-upper summer house, Grandma Jane could paint an entire room without getting a speck of paint on her. She had an undeniable sense of humor.

Surprise 90th birthday.

She's the one on the left, with friends from work in her Montgomery Ward accounting days.

Thankfully, the past 3 years in Madison meant I got to see her pretty often. And her death was relatively pain-free. But darn it, I already miss this woman a whole lot.

Late August

My friend Josie has a wonderful post about this, we're entering the 4th anniversary of Katrina. Like she says, it's funny (um, not ha-ha funny, come on now...) how much my life has changed because of Katrina, in these four years and for the better.

Four years ago I had been reading all I could read and watching all I could watch about what was happening while at work. I met Jota and David for Happy Hour, we spent every Tuesday that summer at some weird and mostly lame bar in Tribeca that had outdoor seating and strong $2 margaritas on Tuesdays (and neither of those things are weird or lame at all.) That was when information was minimal, I remember David saying 10,000 people were dead. Of course it ended up being both more and less severe than this. I remember so clearly trying to comprehend that through a couple of strong $2 margaritas.

Since then we've all three become lawyers. I spent 2.5 of those years working for and with students and people of the Gulf Coast. I found a passion, my passion, and I found out how hard I could work. I found new skills. I did good work. I met great people. As one of the SHN friends said, "my closest friends in law school don't go to my school." That friend, he is down there. So many of those people are working in the region, continuing the work we did together. The anniversary has made me think about how I am not. Earlier this summer, before Flagstaff was 100% for sure and when there was possibility I would be in New Orleans, another wonderful friends I know through this work sent me a text message, reassuring me, "you will do good and important work wherever you are." And so I am not disappointed, or even wrestling with it, although on this anniversary is feels strange to have gotten so close and come so far from that place. To have become part of a community and then gone somewhere else to start over.

And on the other hand. I am still in the place I am because, in some sense, of Katrina and that work. However one wants to portray it- I like: It took the spirit of New Orleans to open Charlie's eyes to how much he loved me. He probably prefers... no, this is my blog, we're going with my version. Everyone would agree, however, that our first trip to New Orleans changed our lives, we spent it interviewing workers on street corners together and having our minds blown. We got "together" a week later. So it is not at all disconnected from Katrina that we a) are a team now and b) came to Arizona so that one (and eventually both) of us can continue working for social justice-- working for the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of the teeming shore. Continuing the work, in a way, in another place that America has broken its promise.

Unfortunately, the food can't compare.

On Money

Ok, so here's the thing... we're not poor. But I am on foodstamps, things are about as tight as I remember them being. This is not a poor poor me post. But one about the things I've noticed while trying to stretch a dollar. Well, for one, today I made almost $140 selling 4 graphing calculators on ebay, as well as the bluetooth headset that came free with Charlie's cell phone. Not bad. But last week we were spending foodstamps at the Co-op and inquired about what happens when we move away. We were on some annual membership payment plan, so just wanted to make sure we cancelled it out, didn't end up owing them $7/yr for the next ten years or something. For some reason, they told us they owe us $13. When we quit, we can either cash that out or donate it to the co-op. Riding home in the car, Charlie said he could guess what I wanted to do with the $13. "Donate it...." I said. He was surprised, I don't think because he disagreed, but more because I had been listing calculators on ebay earlier that day.
Similarly, the other week I went to Planned Parenthood for my free exam and birth control, also courtesy of the state of Wisconsin. At the end of the visit, they asked me to take an envelope and make a donation to PP if I was able. So I went home, thought about how when I had insurance I paid $15/month co-pay and they had just given me 3 months worth for free... so wrote them a check for $30. Everybody wins, right?
So here's the thing. Just like this isn't supposed to be a poor me post, it also isn't supposed to be about how awesome I am. I mean, I am pretty awesome but... I went to law with a number of people who, well, at least anticipated making $160,000+ per year. There were some of these people who refused to participate in the "pledge-a-day" and donate one day's salary to fund public interest student summer stipends. There are some of these people who will not donate to anything until their student loans are paid off.
My point is that I thought this was gross when I had a student's income. Now I think it's totally sick. I mean, ethics don't (or shouldn't) change depending on how much money you have. Plus, this time has really emphasized to me what I have always believed- except for in very extreme cases, whether someone can "afford" something or not is based on priorties. I think the right thing to do is to pay what seems fair to Planned Parenthood and scrimp in that many other ways in other parts of life. I mean, JHC, we're driving to Milwaukee tonight to eat delicious pizza for dinner. Obviously we feel there are some things we can spend $30 on. I just think more than ever there needs to be a little more calling people out on what "afford" really means.

And if it really came down to it? This pizza might be worth getting pregnant for. Just kidding. Kind of.