esquire

Word is I passed the bar today. So I don't lose my job and I'll don't ever have to take it again if I don't feel like it. hip! hip!
. . .

lincoln, please, driver

I dunno if the little red honda can do it, but if she can, 2+ days of boston beans, pottery, parents, indian food, laundry, cornhuskers, sirrahharas, and houses of menagerloungerie and that-nobody-goes-to lie ahead. chug chugitty chug.

. . .

project questions

SKP writes, enthusiastically: How did you make the lampshade??? just by covering the existing, ugly one?? I, too, need a cute lampshade!!!

I writes: I thought about covering the old lampshade but I didn't like how it changed the color of the light that came through (it was rather yellowy). So I xacto-knifed the shade off its metal pieces. There's one metal circle at the top with three arms that reach down to a small ring that is put on a post on the top of the lamp and is held on by another little metal bit that screws down on top of it. Then the bottom piece of the shade was just another metal ring. At first I tried to make wire struts between the two rings so that I would have a shape to stretch the fabric over, but that didn't work--it was too hard to make the things the same size and they wouldn't hang straight (I suspect the wire was not of a heavy enough gauge). So then I just decided to let the fabric hold its own shape. I looped the top of the fabric around the top ring and sewed it down, then looped the bottom of the fabric around the bottom ring and sewed it down. The bottom ring serves as a weight and pulls the shade into the right shape. It's kind of hard to explain, really--when I do the next one, I'll take more in-progress pictures, if you want. It was a pain because the bottom ring has a slightly larger diameter. Also, I think I might add some white interfacing to the inside because the fabric is too transparent--the lightbulb's too bright, and you can see all my seams. I didn't have enough fabric to do it all in one piece, hence the strip at the bottom that goes in another direction--that bottom strip is actually composed of three different pieces. It's hard to make the fabric exactly the right size, if you're making it out of pieces. It doesn't hang quite straight everywhere.

And Angela writes: what is that bag made of?

I writes: The bag of bags is made of bags, that's the beauty of it. I cut up brightly colored plastic bags into strips and then knit them into a ... bag!

-Over and out-
. . .

presto chango

You may remember this ugly lamp:


It now looks like this:






I experimented with a few other fabrics for the lampshade, and I still have to do the second (identical lamp). If you have a preference, please let me know. Here are some of the others I tried out:










This one would be composed of several different pieces of cloth:




. . .

law and fashion

The rumor is I'll find out the bar exam results sometime in the next week or so.

I haven't really thought much about law school since I left. I hauled out my old blue workhorse, my law-school computer, today because it's too hot here to do anything other than watch movies and netflix requires a microsoft operating system to "watch instantly" movies on their website. While it's out of its svelte red-and-green-airplaned sleeve and I'm thinking about knitting projects, I thought I'd poke around in its dusty corners to try to find out to which sibling I'm scheduled to give a big nice present this year (we have a chart). Anyhow, while Old Blue Bits was searching for me, it scrolled through all my old law school class notes: civil procedure, contracts, the horrible environmental values, income tax (amazingly unhorrible), immigration and con law, international law (my worst grade), mental disability law, professional responsibility for law in the public interest (a ridiculous mouthful), torts, property, crim, admin, lawyering, art of appellate decisionmaking (another mouthful, but a bounteous 4 credits), the law of democracy, problems of a free press, lawyering, a south african transition class (the easiest credit I ever earned), products liability, sexuality and the law, and my employment and housing discrimination clinic. I kind of almost miss it. Almost all of it was interesting, and for the most part well taught. I enjoy thinking about them all, anyway, even the horrible ones. While law school did serve to familiarize me with jargon and somewhat with legal writing and research, though, it seems like some faraway fancy world with little connection to my actual job. Which is not to say I don't like my job. It merely strikes me as a bittlest bit comical. Like accessorizing a wedding dress with hip waders.
. . .

Rule 406 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure

Evidence of the habit of a person or of the routine practice of an organization, whether corroborated or not and regardless of the presence of eyewitnesses, is relevant to prove that the conduct of the person or organization on a particular occasion was in conformity with the habit or routine practice.

I am out of many habits. One of them I am out of, and therefore it could not be used to prove that my conduct on a particular occasion was in conformity with it, since it isn't, is posting to this b-log. Check.

I am back at work for real now, although I will become realer still when (crossed fingers and wood knocked) I find out I pass the bar. But even as a "paralegal" (and oh how that title is beginning to grate), I am able to do quite a bit, just not in court. Today I interviewed a client and wrote a Motion to Continue. I write letters to clients and other people. I read over my colleague's work to see how it's done and make suggestions. Tomorrow I will draft an Answer. A few weeks ago I represented someone in a social security disability hearing. So far it's a pretty good job, actually. These seem to be the necessary factors for keeping me happy at work:

• I keep busy
• with tasks that don't take many, many hours/days to complete
• that vary
• and require creativity
  
• and that are important to someone.
• I talk to lots of different kinds of people (lawyers for the opposition, my colleagues, clients [who themselves vary quite a bit], judges, social workers, et al.).
• I am learning new stuff everyday.
• The amount to learn is small enough to be manageable for each task (so far anyway), but large enough so that I will be learning for a long long time.
• I like my colleagues with whom I interact regularly.

So far this post is pretty boring. Hm. Some spicier content:


This is a beautiful batik, a gift from my parents. It depicts a West African woman wearing a baby on her back, pounding cassava or some other starch into goo. It is also the first thing that I have gotten around to hanging in my new house.

I have also gotten out of the habit of cooking, but that should change with the arrival of SWT & HDL tomorrow. Good times, good eats ahead.

I'm still planning on getting a puppy but my finances and allergies are too taxed at the moment to withstand one.

Oh yes, and I've been doing some knitting. The Bag of Bags is coming closer to completion:


Eventually I will have post some photos of other recent events, but my gallery is on the friznitz, so I guess it'll have to wait.

. . .

they plumb the depths I'm afraid to plumb

The plumbers, two grinning 19-year-olds, duly plumbed. And now my bathroom experience should be free of floating muck! yippee!

. . .

the great north platte chicken emergency

I left my apartment unlocked for the last two weeks whilst I was out of town for reasons not interesting enough to explain. I worried a little bit about it, but not too much--it's pretty safe here. And when I did get back, everything seemed pretty much as I'd left it. But when I made dinner, however, the absence of my friend the chicken timer became disastrously apparent (burnt burritos). I don't know how someone could be so cruel as to burgle my chicken. Alas. Let me know if you see her around. She looks like this:

come back, Kicky!
. . .

believe it

I'm going to see this flamenco company perform in Holdrege, NE, on November 4th. You should too!


. . .

great: maine

For some reason, I seem unable ever to get my digicam to Maine, but Maine was the greatness Maine has always been. And there's a new toilet! Go ahead. Yank the Crank.

. . .

stupid: having to turn on the air conditioner because the very air attacks my face

better steer clear. my nose and eyes are out to get me, and they'll settle for you.






. . .

far far away

thanks to HDL: underneath new york
. . .

fourteen thousand words

My place in NP. I can't touch those bushes, I'm allergic to them. There are now flowerpots on the front porch. That garage door in the middle is mine, all mine. The window to the left of the front door is the kitchen, with the living room to the right. On the south side of the house there, there's another kitchen window (I went from zero to 2 kitchen windows in 60 seconds), then the side door (I have two doors!), then the bathroom window, then one of the bedroom windows.


This is a tasty rhubarb custard pie HDL, AJD, and I made while I was in Lincoln before I moved out here. Harris takes the cake for the crimping.



This is a crazy NP sky from several weeks ago. We get good, fast storms here. Today it was more of an all-day sort of thing, more like rainy days in New York. Nice.



These are some sunflowers I raised from wee seeds. They're about twice that height, or more, now. Other sunflowers around town are already blooming, but I got a late start.


Walmart has great deals on gladioli.


I-80 runs straight, for 3 hours and 15 minutes, from NP to Lincoln. It's a drive I anticipate doing many, many times. You can see in this picture, A., a cool car on a truck, and B., that in Nebraska, when we have construction on the roads, the speed limit decreases to 65 mph (about 104 km per hour).



Ear-candling w/ PMcCMcS in Lincoln. So far as I know, it doesn't work, but it was an amusing pastime.




The glads look cool when they're dead, too.


This is my cheap, easy way of making stained glass. Food coloring and jars.



The neighbor kids, Nick and Delaney. I like how they were riding bikes in the rain with umbrellas (Nick had tossed his a few moments before), and that Bear got to come too.


I went to some garage sales around town today and bought these amazing old quilts for a grand total of $25. One lady knocked $10 off the price merely because I looked at the quilt for a while without saying anything (she would never make it in a ghanaian market). Both handmade, all cotton. The second one was made by the grandmother of the woman selling it, and she had to be over 65 herself.




There's no point in buying dresses if I just wait around for events to come around that deserve them. So I decided that this day deserved this dress. It's pretty fun, I'm going to make a habit of it, I hope. It ain't no lie, I like polka dot dot dots.


You'll notice there are no pictures of bar study. Nobody wants to see that, ew.

. . .

this looks cool

I haven't investigated it too much yet:
www.instructables.com

. . .

cheap biznooks

www.betterworldbooks.com
www.thebookcart.com
www.frugalreader.com
www.paperbackswap.com



. . .

there's an empty space where the studying used to be

Well, that bar exam was really draining and I'm pretty bored with thinking about it, so it's time to move on, time to get going. I leave the thriving, culture-filled metropolis of Lincoln tonight for my cowboy town, to begin my long-delayed actual living of life there. I'm ready to do something. I won't find out whether I passed until September, so I'm limited, work-wise, but at least my brain'll be free (of mnemonics, doctrines, and, most importantly, guilt) to absorb whatever information I feel like putting in front of it.

. . .

it's true

(cue "Eye of the Tiger")

I'm going to win this exam, just see if I don't. I'll one-third win it tomorrow, and two-thirds win it on Wednesday. I'm going to win the big blue ribbon and the shiny brass trophy. I'm going to WIN.



. . .

101

the minimalist's 101 simple meals, ready in 10 minutes or less.

. . .

inching over

Hey, does anybody know how I can get the layout here not to have that extra blank space over there on the left (or at least not so much of it)? I'm still using the "classic" template because the newer ones are no good (e.g., the polka.dot.dot.dot part gets cut off). I've tried fooling around with it and successfully made the "main" section bigger today, but any bigger and the left sidebar disappears for some reason.

. . .

all i got

I wouldn't sit on that stool on the far right. It looks a little unstable.

. . .

it's summertime, and the corn is sweet

Back when I was waitressing at the Taste of Darkness, lo, in 1994, occasionally the owner/cook would grill herself up some corn on the cob right there on the gas stove, seasoned with salt and chili powder. I was a little suspicious--how do you top butter? But it is tas-t. I haven't had it since, but being back in corn country reminded me and I tried to make it this afternoon. It doesn't really work on an electric stove, alas. (Or rather, I was too chicken to put the corn directly on the heating coil, and I couldn't get it to work right in a frying pan.) But you people with gas stoves are made in the shade. Just turn on the gas, maybe at low or medium, then put the corn right on top of the burner and turn it occasionally till it's cooked. Then sprinkle w/ the aforesaid salt and chili. If like me you're burdened w/ electric, then just boil as usual and then season w/ salt and chili. It kind of reminded me of ghanaian street food, actually, what with the chili powder.

This website has more cooking corn ideas (read thru the comments--there are other indoor cooking options, like broiling, and somebody recommended a squeeze of fresh lemon juice too).


. . .

i'm pretty sure i just saw jupiter

I went outside the other night for the first time in the real dark here. That's a little weird, but it's a combination of the amazingly long days and the fact that I've been doing nothing but studying. And tonight I went out again! I'd forgotten how great night is. Anyway, there's a widget (software) for macintoshes that shows you which stars/planets/constellations are visible in the night sky. It's too bright in my front yard to see much clearly, but I probably definitely saw a very bright Jupiter. Or a very bright something. I don't think I've ever seen Jupiter before. So this day wasn't a complete waste of real experience. Then I tripped on my front steps, which is also more memorable then studying. Not too bad for a little venture into the wilds of the front yard.

. . .

twin twisters

The sirens have been thwooping and thwooping around for the past hour. They say that, aside from the tornadoes themselves, the storms are capable of baseball-sized hail and insane-o winds. Apparently that dark purple color in the middle of the red is pretty rare.
. . .

I'll have to learn and that's the hardest way, ooh la la.

This song has been in my head for the last few weeks, my bar study theme song:

The Faces' Ooh La La (from the Rushmore soundtrack)

Poor old Granddad
I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women's ways

"They'll trap you, then they use you
Before you even know
For love is blind and you're far too kind
Don't ever let it show"

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger.

The Can Can's such a pretty show
They'll steal your heart away
But backstage, back on earth again
The dressing rooms are grey

They come on strong and it ain't too long
Before they make you feel a man
But love is blind and you soon will find
You're just a boy again

When you want her lips, you get a cheek
Makes you wonder where you are
If you want some more and she's fast asleep
Then she's twinkling with the stars.

"Poor young grandson, there's nothing I can say
You'll have to learn, just like me
And that's the hardest way
Ooh la la"

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger.

. . .

you too could pass the bar

Even you non-j.d.s, even junior high school kids could pass if all the questions were like the following slice of ridiculousness on my practice exam. Just to make it clear just how stupid and annoying this question is, I have highlighted the only pieces of information necessary to answer it.

Question 185 (also known as How to Draw a Rectangle)

Venn entered into a written contract with Purch for the sale of Scrubacre [that's how they name parcels of land, but you don't even have to know that to answer this question], a large tract of land in a sparsely populated area of the state. The contract set forth an accurate metes and bounds [I've never heard the term metes and bounds before, but that doesn't matter either] description of the land based on a survey that Venn had undertaken before putting the property up for sale. At closing, Purch discovered that the deed was incorrectly transcribed and did not agree with the description of the land in the contract. Purch refused to proceed with the closing and brought an action to reform the deed to make it conform to the intention of the parties. The deed described the property to be conveyed as follows:

I. From the southwest corner of Section 25 of Township 2 North, Range 6 West, Cimmaron Base and Meridian, proceed South 45 degrees East 200 feet to the South Basin Irrigation Canal;
II. From that point, proceed South 45 degrees West 100 feet along the Scrub Basin Irrigation Canal to its intersecion with State Highway 11;
III. From that point, proceed North 45 degrees West 200 feet along State Highway 11;
IV. From that point proceed South 45 degrees East 100 feet to the starting point.

Which of the following corrections should be made for the deed to properly describe Scrubacre?

A: Direction I. should be changed to "South 45 degrees East 100 feet."
B: Direction III. should be changed to "North 45 degrees West 100 feet."
C: Direction III. should be changed to "North 45 degrees East 200 feet."
D: Direction IV. should be changed to "North 45 degrees East 100 feet."


criminy.

. . .

stories (in descending order of length)

A banner day here in NP. Things are moving and spinning.

I went to the post office this morning to mail my practice test off to the poor man in Chicago with the annoying job of running scantrons thru a machine, and, as has so far been my luck, there was only two other post office patrons, one being helped at the counter and one in line. The post office here is notorious for its long waits (they have 4 slots at their counter, but there's often only one clerk), but, as I said, so far I've been lucky. Right after I got there, about 6 other people also arrived and got in line behind me. The dude at the counter got done and then the lady in front of me went up, so I was first in line and kind of spacing off. Then another person came in to whom I didn't pay much attention until I realized that the person (who was wearing loud, clompy shoes) was making a lot clomps more than was necessary to get to the back of the line, which was right next to the door. So I kind of glanced over and he was on his way up to the front of the line, and wearing an eye-wrenchingly bright orange coat to boot (it's been 90+ degrees here). He came up to the front of the line and just stood what would have been in front of me, if we'd both been acknowledging there was a line, about three feet away. I looked at him, and he just looked back without acknowledging in any way that anything weird was going on, which I wasn't expecting, so I just nervously smiled at him. Then I looked at the other people in line to see if they had a clue and they were all staring at him with this weird expression on their faces too. So I says to myself, I says, well, either he's crazy, he's really stupid, or he's got some kind of emergency and either way I don't need to get in his way. Then the lady at the counter got done and he clomped on up there (he was wearing cowboy boots). I waited very expectantly to see what would happen, whether it was an emergency or if his craziness or stupidity were going to show themselves in some interesting way or other. But instead, the orange-clad guy just said something very banal, like "I need a book of stamps." And the rather meek, cute little old postal worker looks at this guy (and at about this point my imagination started to run wild and I thought maybe he had a gun and was going to shoot all of us b/c he had that bright orange coat on like a hunter might wear), and he said, um, did you just cut in front of all those people in line? And the guy was like, No. And the post office guy was like, um, there's a line there. And the guy was like yeah, but they're over there. (It wasn't such a big room, and it was quite clearly a line, in my opinion.) And the post office guy said, um, you need to wait in line. Mr. Orange was kind of irked, but he was like, fine, whatever, I'll wait in your stupid "line." (that's not exactly what he said but it was the same tone.) And then the post office guy was just too nice and he caved and got him the stamps. And then the lady next to me, I looked at her with this incredulous look on my face, and she kind of laughed and shook her head and said, well, I wasn't in a hurry to get to work this morning anyway. In Brooklyn that guy wouldn't have made it past three people in line w/o having someone yell at him, nor would anyone have made lemonade with those there lemons. People here (aside from some lawyers I've heard about) are amazingly conflict-averse.

Later on, a very vicious-seeming dog decided chasing me on my bike and barking hysterically was a good thing to do. This scared the crap out of me, and I slowed down for some reason, looking for its owner, I guess. No owner appeared and the dog was still going berzerk, so I was like, hell, I'm on a bike, I can outgun this dog anytime, so I sped up a lot. Dog was going so fast it was blurry, not losing any ground at all, and I was coming up on intersections with stop signs. So I slowed down again, trying to keep my leg, the nearest biteable bit, out of range, and looked around incredulously for its owner. Finding none, and losing hope, I just yelled HEY really really loud, hoping that some distracted owner would appear and call the apeshit beast off. That didn't happen, but it did seem to frighten the dog, or at least convince it that I wasn't to be trifled with, for it turned around and trotted off. Or maybe I just got out of its range, I don't know. Next time I'm going to yell a lot sooner. Shortly thereafter, a bug flew into my open mouth and down my throat whilst I was tweedling down the road, happily unchased, on my bike. I think that right after I rode off, the dog died, was reincarnated as a bug and, knowing me so well, decided that zooming down my throat was the best way to get me.

My mother has very kindly offered to treat me to some massages while I prepare for the bar. So today I decided to investigate the massage parlor situation here, which investigation started off with asking our office paralegal, who has lived here for 50 years and knows everything and everybody, and when she doesn't know, she knows who'll know. In this case, she didn't know, hadn't ever gotten one, but, typically, she knew who'd know. So she got the county attorney on the phone, who had a couple of recommendations for me, and, it turns out, also lived in my apartment at one point. This is a pretty common occurrence here, it seems. You'll just be talking to some random person and it'll turn out they've lived in your house. It's almost like we're related. Small towns are funny. I also routinely run into my colleagues and my neighbors at the grocery store.

On a more long-term note, it seems my desperately-unhappy-in-NP colleague will be hitting the road sometime this month or next. So they're sending me a new boss. The new boss has worked here before, actually, last year and the year before. The office today was all drama, all the time.

. . .

bwb

La Matriarch should have her own blog. She says:

Maybe for Polkadotdotdot?

One time I stumbled upon BetterWorldBooks.com. This is a non-for-profit used book store in Mishawaka, IN, that puts the profits from book sales into literacy programs. Their prices are competitive…shipping in the US is free and they actually charge a “carbonfee” ($ .03/book) r/t to the carbon cost of shipping. So when I’m looking for a book to buy on line, I check their website first. I just ordered an adventure story for g’son Mark which will, I think, entertain him - as well as contribute to a literacy program. Sweet, huh?

Mother

yep, sounds pretty sweet to me.
. . .

oh canada is right

It's true, someday I'm moving to Canada. Here are 26 alphabetized amazing reasons why.

. . .

something I don't get

Here in NP, the preferred choice of fixing very potholey roads seems to be to cover them with a layer of tar and then a thick layer of gravel. Maybe there are other stages coming later, but there are no signs up, either to prohibit driving on the gravel/tar combo, nor to warn us about the enhanced likelihood of skidding, nor to reassure us that the condition is temporary. This is kind of bad in cars, although not awful. It is very bad for bikes. As as the cars drive over the gravel, the excess gets pitched to the side, which is, of course where we bikers (I glory in that phrase) hang. It's bumpy, unpredictable, tire-popping, uncomfortable, and it makes me have to ride with my hands on the handlebars, which I resent. I hope someone somewhere, in cowboy boots, has some kind of grand plan that's merely in the midst of unfolding, despite evidence to the contrary. I hope so.

. . .

my morning call

(This is going to seem like a really boring story about cell phones for a while. Look at the bug if you need to.)

When I moved to NP, I had to dump Sprint for Alltel because they're the only thing going in this several-horse town. Two weeks ago, I signed up and got a sleek green LG phone that I turned out to hate. It seemed fragile, it was constantly asking me if I wanted to go online (I didn't), and wasn't sufficiently programmable (that is, I couldn't change the buttons that asked me if I wanted to go online to point me to more useful functions). So I went back and got a clunky little motorola that is didn't have any of the green phone's sleekness, nor any of its problems. It even has much better text-predictive software. I was pretty happy. So two nights ago, I set the "alert" to wake me at 6:30am yesterday morning (my alarm clock is still in some box). Yesterday morning I woke up promptly at 6:30am to the cheep cheep cheeping of the alarm. No sweat. Except it didn't have a snooze function. So last night, I investigated further into the wee moto's entrails and eventually found a "Morning Call" function. It seemed to have some kind of 5-minute repeat option, so I set it up, plugged it in, and went to sleep.

This morning, I awoke again to the phone's cheeping. I picked it up to turn it off, groggily stared at it for a while, and, while this seemed hard to believe at that hour of the morning, it appeared to be a phone call from a very strange and long number. I stared at it for a while more, still groggy, meanwhile also unconsciously taking in the fact that it's quite a bit brighter in my room than it generally is at the 6:30 at which I usually wake up. The thought occurs to me, slowly, that perhaps "morning call" really is some kind of phone call from alltel, like you get at hotels. So after quite a bit of the groggy staring, I figger, what the hell, and put the phone up to my ear and say, suspiciously, hello? At this point I expected to get, at most, some weird recorded get-the-hell-out-of-bed message, and more likely to hear nothing and to feel like an idiot for saying hello to an alarm clock. Instead of either of those two likelihoods, there's a very perky HI! Thoroughly mystified, I say hi again.

dum dum DUM!

It was my sister! calling from Morocco, hence the odd phone number and the strange hour and the perkiness. I am very impressed with the alltel morning call function--tracking down my sister and getting her to call and wake me up. I mean, yeah, the call was an hour late, but considering the time change, and how difficult it must have been for them to get hold of her, explain the situation, and get her set up to do it (she was boarding a plane back home), it's hard to complain. I can't wait to see who the caller will be tomorrow!

In other news, a junebug has moved in with me. They are really weird bugs. Seem kind of aimless. Right now it's banging into a plastic bag over and over. It makes a little bzz sound every time its wings hit the bag. My house needs a name, but Junebug House won't do. Junebug is a name already way too taken in Nebraska, alas.

. . .

notice and comment

I bought 2 ugly lamps at goodwill last week because I thought they had potential. I've painted one of them. Here's the original:





And here's the painted one.





I grant, the shades have to go. I think the cream is better but I'm not sold. Here's what I want to know: should I paint the glass a different color using transparent paint, maybe blue, hoping for a blue-green result? keep the cream-colored base? Paint it black? paint it some other color? If you have an opinion, please leave it in the comments (or email me). muchas gracias.

. . .

when I grow too old to dream

Alas, one of the most beautiful Junes I have ever seen is slipping away while I listen to cheesy law professors lecture on the most boring crap imaginable. This morning the clouds were lined up in, um, lines. I've never seen anything like it. And the trees that smell like honey are blooming, and so are the gigantic fuchia rosebushes. The western horizon was still bluegreen when I went to sleep last night at 10:30. I'm on the western edge of the time zone, so it stays light forever. (I go to work at the ridiculous hour of 8, which has required some change in sleeping patterns--this morning I actually woke up right at 6:30, anticipating the alarm. it is what it is.) I could probably bitch about studying for the bar exam for at least a few more paragraphs, but it, too, is what it is. Another 37 days and I'll be done, at least till I find out I've passed (every available piece of wood, duly knocked on). Until then, this blog might be rather bland, I'm afraid. I wish there were some good thai peanut sauce around, spice things up.

oh yeah. today's got some good feng shui--it's Doc Yung's birthday and the Rubensteins' anniversaire. I think I'll raise a glass to the three of them right now, and make some flashcards.

. . .

np, ne

As I write, I can hear: little birds tweeting, the little high school marching band practicing, and little kids playing. Few cars and no buses. No car alarms. No loud music from the pizza place across the street. No thunderous construction projects. Nope. Of course, most of those things were largely good in their own right but I don't miss the noise.

North Platte's all right, all right. It's got big wide streets relatively empty of cars, so riding my bike ain't no thang. I pay $525 for a two-BR duplex w/ hardwood floors, a dishwasher, a washer and dryer, and a garage (with opener). Gas is expensive but driving above 1.5 miles any place is unusual, so a tank lasts forever. Kids play outside a lot and people don't lock their doors. Obesity and SUVs are rampant. The sidewalks are empty (of walkers). The downtown is barely alive but the strip of chains is thriving. I am now a Walmart shopper. Everyone is eerily nice and forthcoming with information about their lives and interested in mine (I confess, I sometimes avoid eye contact to avoid the chat). My neighbors on both sides have kids and are all very nice and neighborly. There are at least two health food stores in town , although one of them (run by my landlady) is largely vitamins and food supplements. You have to drop off your recycling somewhere (not sure yet where). My neighbor has a cute new puppy, and so does her boyfriend. Work is good, it's all interesting, I have a gigantic office with a window and chairs for people to sit in and I've started studying for the bar like mad. It's actually been pretty nice not having internet at home the past week. I crave indian food but it's not to be had. Now it's time for dinner and then Professor David Epstein will lecture me on contract law.

. . .

duly noted

I didn't have internet access at home (in np) till now. So don't call it a comeback.
. . .