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Vacation
I put in just a couple weeks at work (enough for a first paycheck) and then took off on my post-bar vacation. The topics of today's local news stories:
Freed dolphins
A whale
Local hospital still performs cardiac surgery
New cafe opens -- beer coming soon!
It's good to be here.
And it seems she too abandons efforts to keep it latched shut. it's white instead of a yellow-ish brown, but that's my bag! In case you hadn't noticed, I kind of think Kendi is amazing, so having the same bag as her makes me feel pretty stylin'.
GPOYfoodW (gratuitous picture of your food Wednesday) I could post a pic of myself today (and I might still) but I don't have any handy, I'm super sweaty at the moment from a pleasant six mile Potomac-side run, and this food is way better looking than me, right? I invented it whilst running today (I often dream of food on my runs) and think I'll call it hummus pizza. Flat bread, topped with a little garlic olive oil, roasted red pepper hummus, and feta cheese, then toasted. And now I shall slice it like a pizza and devour. Mmmm.
This is how we do it... My only day at the pool this summer, studying on the 4th. But now I'm back from the bar and better than ever!
GPOY4th (one day early)
Yesterday I took the Simulated Multistate Bar Exam, which means this morning I needed to do some therapeutic shopping. Luckily, it coincided perfectly with my need for a 4th of July outfit, a graduation Loft gift card, and a 40% off everything sale. The only more perfect trifecta is the coming together of the colors red, white, and blue.
The reason I needed a 4th outfit is because I routinely give away everything red in my closet. I just don't look good in red. But do you know what color I do look good in? Patriotism. So I buckled down and headed to the Loft determined to find a suitably (translation: obnoxiously) American outfit that looked good on me. And I think I succeeded. Wearing red shorts instead of a red top prevented the sickly look that the crimson family usually seems to cast upon my face.
Just to be sure, though, I took a couple selfies to send to my friend and much more girly clothes-confidant, KF. She confirmed that I should wear outfit #1 to the fireworks and outfit #2 to the pool. Done and done!
bar prep is going to our heads, if not getting in our heads
JZ: I drank a redbull before I drank your Diet Dr. P (THANK YOU!)
JZ: and now I feel SO ALIVE IT IS AWESOME
me: You're super capsy!
JZ: Dear Caffeine you are the best
JZ: So capsy
JZ: didn't you know caps lock is cruise control for cool?
Don't Let the Perfect be the Enemy of the Good
My dad says this to me and my sisters all the time, and I used to think of it often in law school. The mantra applies particularly well to the bar, methinks, and since I'm currently studying for the bar on a train to Philly to tailgate the Kenny Chesney concert with my dad for Fathers Day, it seemed just too appropriate.
In some law schools, and especially in years past, the student earning the top grade on the final in a class would "get the book." The professor would give the student the text for the class as a sort of prize. (Law schools really know their incentives, don't they?) I sat in on a bar prep lecture by a judge who is both an alumni and an adjunct at our school, and he said, "They don't give anyone the book for the bar exam."
For the first time in three years, we're taking a test that, though curved, does not pit us against each other in the same way as a law exam. [And I feel I should pause here to say I was blessed to be in a wonderful first year section and to have great law school friends who did not look at my success as something keeping them down, or my failures as a chance to rise up, but those people were certainly out there.] For the bar, there's no cum laude or yellow cords on a robe; there's only pass and fail.
Even if you wrote the perfect bar exam, no one will ever know it was perfect. All that really matters is that it's good. Not even good, actually, just good enough.
So I'll plod through all the assignments that Barbri gives me (or at least all that I can manage), and I'll study a lot, but I'm not going for perfect, I'm going for good enough. And part of my good enough is making sure I work out, eat well -- but not too well -- have an occasional drink, and yes, spend time with family and friends at a tailgate 3 hours from my home. And I'll thank my dad for letting me know it's okay to think like that. Happy Father's Day, Dad!
GPOYW. Or GPOYF*W (*feet).
Not pictured: Haglund's deformity, but more on that in a moment.
Unlike the preferences of almost everyone in the world, but quite similar to my self-proclaimed alternate personality, Liz Lemon, I dislike wearing flip-flops. My feat feel dirty after 5 minutes of walking around the city in them, and I even live in a semi-clean city. On top of that, I get really cold feet. I don't mean that figuratively, although at least one ex-boyfriend thought that it was a physical manifestation of figurative tendencies on my part. But I digress. I'm not a huge fan of flip-flops.
Despite this strongly held opinion, I have worn them almost every day for the past month. I usually would bite my weirdo tendencies and wear them for fashion's sake 50% of the time, but I have been full-on flip-flopping for four weeks now. The reason: aforementioned Haglund's deformity. Otherwise known as pump bump. Otherwise known as the HUGE bump on the back of my heel that can apparently cause ACHILLES TEARS (which has to be written in all caps because that's just how much they scare me).
Up until now, the only "running" injury I've ever had was actually a skiing injury -- I threw myself down a mountain in the Andes, insisting that skiing would just "come back to me," and then continued to run 5-6 miles a day it because I didn't want to go through the hassle of seeing a doctor while studying abroad. Because that made sense in my 20-year-old head. My knee hurts when it's humid, but really it's a totally manageable condition. ACHILLES TEARS, though, scare me in a way that I cannot ignore, and so I'm diligently following advice from various running blogs and websites, which means more time on the bike and lots of time wearing flip-flops. I know I'm just biding my time until I have to go see an actual, real doctor, which on student health insurance will surely involve jumping through epic hoops. But maybe, just maybe, flip-flops are actually the cure. I'm going to give it two more weeks, fully exposing my feet to the elements, just in case.
Monday Munchies: Macaroni and Cheese!
Despite being hopeless in the kitchen, I've been loving it up lately. I wouldn't call myself creative, or culinary... in fact, I pride myself in taking really simple and basic "recipes" and adding or substituting ingredients to make myself feel fancy and/or healthier. Usually the former. And no self-respecting chef would consider me fancy.
That disclaimer aside, you have to try this. I made Annie's whole grain, white cheddar, mac and cheese shells, and added steamed broccoli and Trader Joe's chicken andouille sausage. Instead of eating the whole pot of mac and cheese in one sitting (anyone who says they can withstand is a liar), I filled up way faster AND it was actually delicious. And fancy. And maybe healthy. Plus, the leftovers made the end of a 4-hour Barbri lecture just a little bit better, and not many things can make me say that.
GPOYW. Oh heyyyyy. Funny seeing you here. I'm just busy graduating. WAS busy graduating. Now I'm busy studying for the bar. In a whirlwind three weeks, I wrapped up all my clinic clients, graded tons of 1Ls' papers, wrote a paper on an old and forgotten Supreme Court case, welcomed some family into town McLawyer-style, graduated, went on a 1.5-day vacay with the boyf to lovely Winchester, VA, and returned to school just in time for the first Barbri class. Oh, and we listened to the intro lecture in the car while driving back from vacation. I think that (plus the big smile on my face) about sums it up. In the words of my law school karaoke duo, taking some liberties with Carly Rae, "Here's my diploma, so call me J.D.!"
Monday Munchies: Mapled Carrots!
When I'm procrastinating on a Monday, having a hard time finishing my last law school paper EVER, my mind naturally turns to food. Right now, it's focused squarely on the delicious left over maple syrup carrots I brought as my afternoon snack. They're delicious, and so freaking easy! I modified them from the delicious and beautiful Morning Glory Farm cookbook, and by modified, I mean didn't measure things.
Recipe: Pour a little maple syrup and water into the bottom of a skillet with a couple tablespoons butter. Add carrots (I used defrosted frozen carrots, nbd), salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne (just trust the Morning Glory wisdom). Cook until carrots are soft but not mushy, about 15 minutes.
If you make over two pounds, like I did, take half to a potluck dinner, and then eat the other half every day for a week and wonder how you're not sick of them slash if your night vision is getting awesome the way your mom always promised it would.
This actually warmed my heart the other day. The Flyers bumper sticker is nice, but adding WMMR? Pretty Philtastic.
There are few greater, more simple joys than a well-popped bag of popcorn. Anytime I end with fewer than 20 kernels and nothing burnt, I literally feel like a champion.
Pops on the beach by keartona on Flickr.
I want to be here. Right there with the sand and the water and the lighthouse and the adorable dog.
Couldn't find a good gratuitous picture of myself for Wednesday, but isn't this pic so much better anyway?
That was always Roommate and my excuse for making people hang out with us -- "But you have to eat sometime, you might as well eat dinner with ME!" So imagine how cool I thought this is. It's like the give-to-charity equivalent. Because even those of us living on student loans get takeout sometimes lots of times [fine!] all of the times. And to the DC inclined, there are a whole bunch of District restaurants on there!
I would say I'm troubled by Netflix's recommendation of inspiring documentaries for 11-12 year old and mystery television shows featuring religious figures, but some of those documentaries do look pretty interesting, and I have been known to partake in marathon Father Dowling Mystery watch parities, so perhaps I ought to say, "Netflix, you know me well..."
I feel the need to break this one out whenever I see Lindsay Lohan looking, well, like herself these days.
This GFY post from way back when I was in college reminds me of a time when people still believed that commenting on LiLo and her hair would compel her to quit dying it and start smiling again.
(image from i'mwithkanye: http://imwithkanye.tumblr.com/post/21780517746/lindsay-lohan-to-attend-the-white-house)
