I have done the unthinkable.
I have driven in the snow.
In a MINI.
My under-30 mph handling was awe inspiring, I'm sure.
Speaking as a southerner, I can think of few things more terrifying than knowing how to drive in wintry conditions and finding oneself in the vicinity of a car with, oh, an Alabama tag. Let's face it: that license plate is almost a guarantee that the person behind the wheel has no idea what she's doing, and is praying that this "black ice" she's heard so much about hasn't formed yet.
I made it home in one piece--they've plowed most of the roads around me--and stepped onto my balcony to look at the pretty snow in the pines. Then I noticed that my downstairs neighbor smells rather strongly of marijuana, and that just spoiled the Christmas card effect.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Back to the mines
I love you, Thanksgiving break, but you've become a devilish little minx.
Back in undergrad, Thanksgiving was glorious, eight days off from school if one stuck around for The Game. (And one did. Cue "School on Monday!" chant.) In law school, it's only five days, and we come back to the final three days of classes before a laughably short two-day reading period (Seriously, guys, why bother?) and--gulp--finals.
Suffice it to say I Thanksgiving-ed it up last week--way too much food (Delicious and didn't come straight from a box! Wonders!), way too much shopping (Sometimes, Saks is the best option), and a nice visit with my parents and the Insane Border Collie. (And, lest I forget, BBC America. Hello, digital cable!) Today, however, I'm back at school, sitting in the cafeteria with my laptop and a stack of casebooks a foot high, wondering why it has to be rainy and cold, and why we have to have these silly exams at all. Thanksgiving was just a tease this year, a glorious five-day reprieve from the looming reality of the end of the semester and the exams that will decide our grades. No pressure.
Only seventeen days until Christmas break. Not that I'm counting or anything.
Back in undergrad, Thanksgiving was glorious, eight days off from school if one stuck around for The Game. (And one did. Cue "School on Monday!" chant.) In law school, it's only five days, and we come back to the final three days of classes before a laughably short two-day reading period (Seriously, guys, why bother?) and--gulp--finals.
Suffice it to say I Thanksgiving-ed it up last week--way too much food (Delicious and didn't come straight from a box! Wonders!), way too much shopping (Sometimes, Saks is the best option), and a nice visit with my parents and the Insane Border Collie. (And, lest I forget, BBC America. Hello, digital cable!) Today, however, I'm back at school, sitting in the cafeteria with my laptop and a stack of casebooks a foot high, wondering why it has to be rainy and cold, and why we have to have these silly exams at all. Thanksgiving was just a tease this year, a glorious five-day reprieve from the looming reality of the end of the semester and the exams that will decide our grades. No pressure.
Only seventeen days until Christmas break. Not that I'm counting or anything.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Harvard Sucks
You know, I thought this was going to be the year. I honestly did.
Since 2002, when I first had a reason to take an interest in The Game, Yale has won exactly once: in 2006, when I had to watch via Flash animation from my dorm room in Scotland. Today's setup was much better--actual television, sofa, lack of five-hour time zone difference--but the result was, unfortunately, what I've come to anticipate from the Bulldogs. There's no need to rehash it. Still, mad props to the guy who was playing with his arm in a massive cast--dude, that's dedication.
Two sources of consolation brightened the fourth-quarter pit of despair this afternoon:
1) You could hear the student section chanting "Harvard Sucks!" over the announcers on Versus.
2) Instead of having to stand in the cold/rain/snow and fight my way back to campus, I got to watch from the comfort of my living room, yell at the television, and then go back to my Contracts outline.
On second thought, that last one is still fairly depressing. "School on Monday!" loses its ring when one does, in fact, have school on Monday.
Since 2002, when I first had a reason to take an interest in The Game, Yale has won exactly once: in 2006, when I had to watch via Flash animation from my dorm room in Scotland. Today's setup was much better--actual television, sofa, lack of five-hour time zone difference--but the result was, unfortunately, what I've come to anticipate from the Bulldogs. There's no need to rehash it. Still, mad props to the guy who was playing with his arm in a massive cast--dude, that's dedication.
Two sources of consolation brightened the fourth-quarter pit of despair this afternoon:
1) You could hear the student section chanting "Harvard Sucks!" over the announcers on Versus.
2) Instead of having to stand in the cold/rain/snow and fight my way back to campus, I got to watch from the comfort of my living room, yell at the television, and then go back to my Contracts outline.
On second thought, that last one is still fairly depressing. "School on Monday!" loses its ring when one does, in fact, have school on Monday.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Computer weekend
I was supposed to go to Tyson's Corner with my sister yesterday. We were going to go to the mall--a real mall, not ghetto Fashion Square--and generally have sister bonding time/retail therapy.
That didn't happen.
Granted, we had a nice dinner at Ten (even if you don't like sushi, the crabmeat and rice is very good) and saw the new version of A Christmas Carol, but I was still cheated out of a relaxing weekend by my computer--which, incidentally, I have now dubbed "the Precious," as I find myself getting overly jittery when it's either absent or malfunctioning. Anyway...
I have a PC, the VAIO notebook that went to Scotland with me three years ago. It's been a good machine up until now, and I try to be careful with it--I keep antivirus/anti-malware software, I run security updates, and I don't download files from sketchy sites. I've even been able to remove my own malware in the past, but this has generally been by what I term the "monkeys with typewriters" school of computer repair. (Translation: If I download enough malware removers, find the right items in the registry, and pray a lot, the bad files usually go away.)
Last Tuesday, Microsoft sent down their newest updates, and my computer installed them on Wednesday. On Thursday, I began to notice that my machine was running more slowly than usual--particularly that IE was taking up to 15 seconds to load--and I opened the Task Manager to see what was going on.
Duplicate iexplore.exe entries. That's new...
I went online and started looking up the symptom, which none of my programs had caught as malware, and started seeing warnings of a particularly nasty trojan that could turn your machine into a zombie and was nearly impossible to remove.
Panicking a bit by now, I downloaded a few new malware removers, but they caught virtually nothing. By Thursday night, I had spent nine hours trying to find the problem, and I decided to give up and take the computer to ITC.
Law ITC has a staff of roughly 1.5, but they're nice folks and tried for four hours with my computer, even on a Friday afternoon, for which they deserve major kudos. When I came down to pick it up, they told me that they hadn't been able to find anything, but that the best option might be an upgrade to Windows 7.
Bear in mind that, until then, I'd been an XP girl. I tend not to perform gratuitous OS upgrades, so despite Windows' shiny new campaign, I hadn't seriously been considering making the switch. But then again, my notes were on that computer, and given that I couldn't go online with the system potentially compromised, and finals are coming up... Let's say that "Aggghhh" summed up my mental state, but ITC said that the main campus bookstore (which is huge, by the way) had copies of 7 available for $10, and that it was an easy installation. "Just back up your data and format the hard drive," they told me, and I ran off to buy a disc.
Putting aside my fears of royally screwing up my machine, I spent all Friday evening backing up my data, then making backups of the important backups. I researched 7 installation, wondering what was going to happen to all my drivers. Microsoft basically gave me the go-ahead--apparently, I may have some graphics issues with the Aero option--but I held off until Saturday morning, when, after reassurance from both Robert and the Geek Squad, I crossed my fingers and began the installation.
The first time through, I opted for something milder than a full formatting, and the IE duplication was still there when I got 7 running. Kicking myself, I ran the installation a second time and formatted, and the duplication was still there. Moreover, my computer was missing drivers for silly little things like, oh, the sound card.
Back to Best Buy and the Geek Squad, where the guy behind the counter checked my wired connection, told me where to get drivers, and ran another malware check, after which he told me that the newest Microsoft update may have been to make IE split its processes, thus helping the browser to recover in case something happens.
In other words, there was probably no trojan to begin with.
Somewhat relieved, I headed back to school to borrow a cable and spent all Saturday afternoon in the computer lab, downloading drivers and cursing Sony for not supporting my model past Vista. (Also, Sony doesn't support its keyboards, so now I'm trying to find a way to make my function buttons work again.) I finally got Office up and running before dinner last night, then came home and worked with iTunes, which, after three installations, still froze on launch.
As of now, the main programs are working, iTunes likes me again, and FriendlyWare, which I rescued from my parents' 386 ten years ago, has been reinstalled. I'm turning this thing off now.
One weekend down the drain, but it's not all for naught--Windows 7 is just so shiny. Or something like that.
That didn't happen.
Granted, we had a nice dinner at Ten (even if you don't like sushi, the crabmeat and rice is very good) and saw the new version of A Christmas Carol, but I was still cheated out of a relaxing weekend by my computer--which, incidentally, I have now dubbed "the Precious," as I find myself getting overly jittery when it's either absent or malfunctioning. Anyway...
I have a PC, the VAIO notebook that went to Scotland with me three years ago. It's been a good machine up until now, and I try to be careful with it--I keep antivirus/anti-malware software, I run security updates, and I don't download files from sketchy sites. I've even been able to remove my own malware in the past, but this has generally been by what I term the "monkeys with typewriters" school of computer repair. (Translation: If I download enough malware removers, find the right items in the registry, and pray a lot, the bad files usually go away.)
Last Tuesday, Microsoft sent down their newest updates, and my computer installed them on Wednesday. On Thursday, I began to notice that my machine was running more slowly than usual--particularly that IE was taking up to 15 seconds to load--and I opened the Task Manager to see what was going on.
Duplicate iexplore.exe entries. That's new...
I went online and started looking up the symptom, which none of my programs had caught as malware, and started seeing warnings of a particularly nasty trojan that could turn your machine into a zombie and was nearly impossible to remove.
Panicking a bit by now, I downloaded a few new malware removers, but they caught virtually nothing. By Thursday night, I had spent nine hours trying to find the problem, and I decided to give up and take the computer to ITC.
Law ITC has a staff of roughly 1.5, but they're nice folks and tried for four hours with my computer, even on a Friday afternoon, for which they deserve major kudos. When I came down to pick it up, they told me that they hadn't been able to find anything, but that the best option might be an upgrade to Windows 7.
Bear in mind that, until then, I'd been an XP girl. I tend not to perform gratuitous OS upgrades, so despite Windows' shiny new campaign, I hadn't seriously been considering making the switch. But then again, my notes were on that computer, and given that I couldn't go online with the system potentially compromised, and finals are coming up... Let's say that "Aggghhh" summed up my mental state, but ITC said that the main campus bookstore (which is huge, by the way) had copies of 7 available for $10, and that it was an easy installation. "Just back up your data and format the hard drive," they told me, and I ran off to buy a disc.
Putting aside my fears of royally screwing up my machine, I spent all Friday evening backing up my data, then making backups of the important backups. I researched 7 installation, wondering what was going to happen to all my drivers. Microsoft basically gave me the go-ahead--apparently, I may have some graphics issues with the Aero option--but I held off until Saturday morning, when, after reassurance from both Robert and the Geek Squad, I crossed my fingers and began the installation.
The first time through, I opted for something milder than a full formatting, and the IE duplication was still there when I got 7 running. Kicking myself, I ran the installation a second time and formatted, and the duplication was still there. Moreover, my computer was missing drivers for silly little things like, oh, the sound card.
Back to Best Buy and the Geek Squad, where the guy behind the counter checked my wired connection, told me where to get drivers, and ran another malware check, after which he told me that the newest Microsoft update may have been to make IE split its processes, thus helping the browser to recover in case something happens.
In other words, there was probably no trojan to begin with.
Somewhat relieved, I headed back to school to borrow a cable and spent all Saturday afternoon in the computer lab, downloading drivers and cursing Sony for not supporting my model past Vista. (Also, Sony doesn't support its keyboards, so now I'm trying to find a way to make my function buttons work again.) I finally got Office up and running before dinner last night, then came home and worked with iTunes, which, after three installations, still froze on launch.
As of now, the main programs are working, iTunes likes me again, and FriendlyWare, which I rescued from my parents' 386 ten years ago, has been reinstalled. I'm turning this thing off now.
One weekend down the drain, but it's not all for naught--Windows 7 is just so shiny. Or something like that.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Another open letter
Dear unknown woman in the library ladies' room,
The restroom is for a purpose. We all know what that is.
I realize there's a sink in the restroom, but that does not mean that the restroom is your private food preparation area. Let me make this plain: the restroom is not for the peeling and consumption of citrus fruits.
Seriously, honey, the break room--you know, that place with the snack machines and coffee makers--was on the other side of the partition, five feet away. So why the heck did you choose to use a public restroom as your kitchen away from home?!?
Just curious.
The restroom is for a purpose. We all know what that is.
I realize there's a sink in the restroom, but that does not mean that the restroom is your private food preparation area. Let me make this plain: the restroom is not for the peeling and consumption of citrus fruits.
Seriously, honey, the break room--you know, that place with the snack machines and coffee makers--was on the other side of the partition, five feet away. So why the heck did you choose to use a public restroom as your kitchen away from home?!?
Just curious.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
A Halloween Scene
[Knocking at door]
Me: [Sits up, looks at Ghost Hunters marathon, wonders if Robert's come by. Realizes it's Halloween, and knocking can mean only one thing.] Coming! [Makes sure pajama top is decent and scrambles for door.]
Mini-ninja: Trick or treat!
Me: One second! [Closes door, removes legs from spider dip bowl, thanks God for candy left by complex manager yesterday. Finds that mini-ninja has kept door propped open and his brother is knocking next door.] Here you go! Take whichever you like.
Mom: [from the foot of the stairs] We've got one down here in a stroller, too! That's why there are three bags!
Me: No worries! So, you're a ninja?
Mini-ninja: Yeah.
Mom: Say "yes, ma'am!"
Me: [Dies a little inside]
After the visit from the mini-ninja and his brother, the ghoul, I'm down to two Tootsie Rolls and the candy left over from Jen's party last night, which, unfortunately, is all open and/or tainted with caramel. We ate all the Nerds, which were the only boxed item. So now, in case little neighbors come calling, here are the options:
1) The half-dozen bags I just assembled with two Twizzlers and a handful of candy corn each, which their moms will promptly throw away. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right? Right?
2) Granola bars, which Jen has put on par with Charlie Brown's bag of rocks.
3) An intact bag of candy corn.
4) An intact bag of Harris Teeter marshmallows.
5) Beer. But I'm checking IDs first.
Me: [Sits up, looks at Ghost Hunters marathon, wonders if Robert's come by. Realizes it's Halloween, and knocking can mean only one thing.] Coming! [Makes sure pajama top is decent and scrambles for door.]
Mini-ninja: Trick or treat!
Me: One second! [Closes door, removes legs from spider dip bowl, thanks God for candy left by complex manager yesterday. Finds that mini-ninja has kept door propped open and his brother is knocking next door.] Here you go! Take whichever you like.
Mom: [from the foot of the stairs] We've got one down here in a stroller, too! That's why there are three bags!
Me: No worries! So, you're a ninja?
Mini-ninja: Yeah.
Mom: Say "yes, ma'am!"
Me: [Dies a little inside]
After the visit from the mini-ninja and his brother, the ghoul, I'm down to two Tootsie Rolls and the candy left over from Jen's party last night, which, unfortunately, is all open and/or tainted with caramel. We ate all the Nerds, which were the only boxed item. So now, in case little neighbors come calling, here are the options:
1) The half-dozen bags I just assembled with two Twizzlers and a handful of candy corn each, which their moms will promptly throw away. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right? Right?
2) Granola bars, which Jen has put on par with Charlie Brown's bag of rocks.
3) An intact bag of candy corn.
4) An intact bag of Harris Teeter marshmallows.
5) Beer. But I'm checking IDs first.
Fun with Westlaw and Lexis
As of Thursday, I'd successfully redeemed points from both Westlaw and Lexis for DVDs. This was quite exciting, as I seldom get anything in the mail except the former tenant's Self subscription, which is almost certainly the antithesis of legal reading.
The thing is, despite all the bells and whistles each service brags about, they're very similar. I tend to go with Westlaw because all the graphics are blue, which, aesthetically speaking, trumps Lexis's red logos, and because I prefer the layout. Other than that, they do roughly the same thing, and both cost law firms an arm and a leg.
At this point, however, the services are still wooing us, though I'm not sure why. One summer intern's loyalty to Lexis over Westlaw probably isn't going to change the firm's mind about which service to use. Still, I'm not one to turn away legal research freebies.
Having redeemed points, though, I did have one question: whose points are worth more? Using my admittedly small sample and Amazon.com, here's the breakdown:
WESTLAW
DVD 1: 1,800 points, $24.95, or $0.013861 per point.
DVD 2: 600 points, $14.98, or $0.024967 per point.
Average Point Value: $0.0166375
LEXIS
DVD 1: 3,457 points, $79.98, or $0.0231357 per point
So let's get this straight, Westlaw: your points are worth less, and they're harder to get? I like you, and I realize you're the industry leader and all, but it looks like Lexis is trying harder. Plus, Lexis gives us snacks. Time to step up your game, perhaps?
The thing is, despite all the bells and whistles each service brags about, they're very similar. I tend to go with Westlaw because all the graphics are blue, which, aesthetically speaking, trumps Lexis's red logos, and because I prefer the layout. Other than that, they do roughly the same thing, and both cost law firms an arm and a leg.
At this point, however, the services are still wooing us, though I'm not sure why. One summer intern's loyalty to Lexis over Westlaw probably isn't going to change the firm's mind about which service to use. Still, I'm not one to turn away legal research freebies.
Having redeemed points, though, I did have one question: whose points are worth more? Using my admittedly small sample and Amazon.com, here's the breakdown:
WESTLAW
DVD 1: 1,800 points, $24.95, or $0.013861 per point.
DVD 2: 600 points, $14.98, or $0.024967 per point.
Average Point Value: $0.0166375
LEXIS
DVD 1: 3,457 points, $79.98, or $0.0231357 per point
So let's get this straight, Westlaw: your points are worth less, and they're harder to get? I like you, and I realize you're the industry leader and all, but it looks like Lexis is trying harder. Plus, Lexis gives us snacks. Time to step up your game, perhaps?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
New hobby
According to the date stamp, I've not touched this blog in nearly a month. Best-laid plans and all that, I suppose, but hey, it's been a busy (and quite good) few weeks. So, well...Happy Halloween, yo.
Preface: Back in grad school, I decided to try this strange "knitting" thing that so many of my friends had picked up along the way, and marched myself down to the ghetto-fab Edinburgh Bargain Store for needles and cheap yarn. The resulting scarf was, in a word, laughable. It was also bright teal, and if I'm not mistaken, it's currently padding breakables in my storage unit. I tried to continue my knitting, first with a new, more subdued, ball of yarn in Edinburgh, then with fresh materials in Birmingham last year, but I've come to the realization that I'm not exactly a knitter.
I do, however, really like playing with jewelry.
Jewelry making - or at least the bead stringing/headpin wrangling with which I'm currently experimenting - is as relaxing as knitting, but without the cramping knuckles. I've made Christmas presents. I know the faces at the bead store downtown and where to find the cheaper supplies at Michael's. Heck, I've even made earrings to kill time pre-Torts. It's just fun.
Also, um, I like shiny things. And semiprecious stones. Now, if only I could scrape together the hundreds of dollars I'd need for a string of decent larimar, we'd be in business...
Preface: Back in grad school, I decided to try this strange "knitting" thing that so many of my friends had picked up along the way, and marched myself down to the ghetto-fab Edinburgh Bargain Store for needles and cheap yarn. The resulting scarf was, in a word, laughable. It was also bright teal, and if I'm not mistaken, it's currently padding breakables in my storage unit. I tried to continue my knitting, first with a new, more subdued, ball of yarn in Edinburgh, then with fresh materials in Birmingham last year, but I've come to the realization that I'm not exactly a knitter.
I do, however, really like playing with jewelry.
Jewelry making - or at least the bead stringing/headpin wrangling with which I'm currently experimenting - is as relaxing as knitting, but without the cramping knuckles. I've made Christmas presents. I know the faces at the bead store downtown and where to find the cheaper supplies at Michael's. Heck, I've even made earrings to kill time pre-Torts. It's just fun.
Also, um, I like shiny things. And semiprecious stones. Now, if only I could scrape together the hundreds of dollars I'd need for a string of decent larimar, we'd be in business...
Monday, October 05, 2009
Thwarted by the Man
I was this close to actually getting something I wanted with my Westlaw Rewards points.
For those who have no idea what I'm griping about, West and Lexis are the two big publishers of casebooks, reporters, study aids, and other legal paraphernalia. Each runs an online search service, for which firms pay dearly. (Our Lexis trainer said it might cost $10 to run a party name search and $250 to run a search on terms. Moral of the story: spell it right the first time. Yipe.) While we're students, however, the searching is "free", or at least included in our tuition, and the West and Lexis reps give us candy and branded goodies. Why? Their companies are desperately hoping that someday we'll be managing partners willing to fork over megabucks for an online service, and that our law school experience will give us warm and fuzzy feelings about one company or the other.
To foster the warm and fuzzies, each service also offers students rewards on a point system. Do a search? 10 points a day. Complete a weekly activity? 150 points. Attend a training course? 400 points. Buy a West casebook from the site? 500 points.
Given that I already have my casebooks for the semester and I'm not a huge fan of mostly self-explanatory training (and I, erm, like my long homework break in the middle of the day. Yeah...), my point accumulation has been slow to this point, but I managed to rack up a 1,230 total this morning. "Hooray!" I thought. "Shopping time!"
See, the thing is, I have a taste for bad TV, and West was offering Paranormal State: Season 2 for a mere 1,200 points. It's kind of fun to watch undergrads running around old houses, jumping every time the floor squeaks, with their stable of demonologists, psychics, priests, and resident pagan for help. Mindless, but fun.
I'd noticed before that the West shopping categories said "DVDs - 2400 point minimum", but I'd assumed that meant that the DVDs went for, well, at least 2,400 points. Imagine my surprise to find a few that didn't. (Check out the stand-up comedians for more.) And so, with joy in my heart and a slight quiver of excitement in my mouse finger--I was actually getting something for my time!--I moved to Checkout.
Where my hopes and dreams of seeing Paranormal State in the next week died.
As it turns out, that 2,400 point minimum doesn't refer to the base price of the DVDs, but to the amount one must spend on DVDs to have them shipped.
Looks like I'm back for Training: Part II. Crud...
For those who have no idea what I'm griping about, West and Lexis are the two big publishers of casebooks, reporters, study aids, and other legal paraphernalia. Each runs an online search service, for which firms pay dearly. (Our Lexis trainer said it might cost $10 to run a party name search and $250 to run a search on terms. Moral of the story: spell it right the first time. Yipe.) While we're students, however, the searching is "free", or at least included in our tuition, and the West and Lexis reps give us candy and branded goodies. Why? Their companies are desperately hoping that someday we'll be managing partners willing to fork over megabucks for an online service, and that our law school experience will give us warm and fuzzy feelings about one company or the other.
To foster the warm and fuzzies, each service also offers students rewards on a point system. Do a search? 10 points a day. Complete a weekly activity? 150 points. Attend a training course? 400 points. Buy a West casebook from the site? 500 points.
Given that I already have my casebooks for the semester and I'm not a huge fan of mostly self-explanatory training (and I, erm, like my long homework break in the middle of the day. Yeah...), my point accumulation has been slow to this point, but I managed to rack up a 1,230 total this morning. "Hooray!" I thought. "Shopping time!"
See, the thing is, I have a taste for bad TV, and West was offering Paranormal State: Season 2 for a mere 1,200 points. It's kind of fun to watch undergrads running around old houses, jumping every time the floor squeaks, with their stable of demonologists, psychics, priests, and resident pagan for help. Mindless, but fun.
I'd noticed before that the West shopping categories said "DVDs - 2400 point minimum", but I'd assumed that meant that the DVDs went for, well, at least 2,400 points. Imagine my surprise to find a few that didn't. (Check out the stand-up comedians for more.) And so, with joy in my heart and a slight quiver of excitement in my mouse finger--I was actually getting something for my time!--I moved to Checkout.
Where my hopes and dreams of seeing Paranormal State in the next week died.
As it turns out, that 2,400 point minimum doesn't refer to the base price of the DVDs, but to the amount one must spend on DVDs to have them shipped.
Looks like I'm back for Training: Part II. Crud...
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Bleh
I appear to have contracted the class plague (no, not the Avian Swine Flu Pox o' Doom), which, while annoying, gave me a fabulous excuse to get 11 hours of sleep last night. It's also taught me a few things lately:
1) Remembering your dreams is not all it's cracked up to be, especially once you realize that most of them are law school-related. Seriously, subconscious, I'm already spending the majority of my waking hours there--could we get a tad more creative, please? I'm chalking this one up to the cold drugs and moving along.
2) Vicks Vaporub is magical. Messy, smelly, but magical.
3) I'm willing to give zinc lozenges a try, but for the record, sticking one in your mouth and falling asleep is a horrible idea. I woke up three hours later with a mouth that tasted like a truckload of pennies, and brushing my teeth didn't help. Sheesh, I thought part of this experience was losing your sense of taste...
In sum, I doubt I'm contagious (this thing started coming on before Foxfield), but if I sniff loudly or give anyone a glassy-eyed stare today, I'm really sorry. Oh, joy--there's nothing quite like being annoyingly symptomatic.
1) Remembering your dreams is not all it's cracked up to be, especially once you realize that most of them are law school-related. Seriously, subconscious, I'm already spending the majority of my waking hours there--could we get a tad more creative, please? I'm chalking this one up to the cold drugs and moving along.
2) Vicks Vaporub is magical. Messy, smelly, but magical.
3) I'm willing to give zinc lozenges a try, but for the record, sticking one in your mouth and falling asleep is a horrible idea. I woke up three hours later with a mouth that tasted like a truckload of pennies, and brushing my teeth didn't help. Sheesh, I thought part of this experience was losing your sense of taste...
In sum, I doubt I'm contagious (this thing started coming on before Foxfield), but if I sniff loudly or give anyone a glassy-eyed stare today, I'm really sorry. Oh, joy--there's nothing quite like being annoyingly symptomatic.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Recovering from the races
Yesterday was my first Foxfield outing, an introduction to the glories of steeplechase and to the tailgating prowess of my fellow 1Ls. Fried chicken. Hummus. Pizza. Cookies. Fruit trays...
...oh yes, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Section H wins the Classiest Cocktail award for mint juleps (with five gallons of fresh, homemade, mint-infused simple syrup). The LLMs came up with something unidentifiable but reportedly strong. Several sections, including J, went Southern with sweet tea vodka and various mixers, while one section just bypassed the bottles in favor of pouring the punch straight into the cooler. (Hey, whatever works, folks.) I broke down around 11:30 and had a mint julep, figuring that as long as I was going to walk around a muddy field in a newly-trimmed hat, I should drink something vaguely reminiscent of Kentucky. Then again, drinking said mint julep from a red Solo cup kind of killed the ambiance.
There were sunburns, there were long lines at the Port-a-lets, there was seersucker and madras and a tux with tails, and at least one guy too far gone to keep from falling over himself. There were adorable terrier races and, surprisingly enough, actual horses. (I know, I know, some students have never seen a horse at Foxfield--they're rather like the yeti. Fast, sweaty yeti.) Yes, there were horses, and jockeys to ride the horses--all except the jockey riding #3, the horse on which I was unofficially betting, who managed to fall off said horse in the final stretch of the first race. Hey, as long as you're down, might as well wander over to the Law Tailgating Ghetto and grab yourself a cold one, buddy.
Everyone seemed to be none the worse for wear today, though the Virginia Law Weekly complained last Friday that we weren't getting Yom Kippur, "the Jewish holy day of Foxfield hangovers," off from class. At least we're in the home stretch before Fall Break, the long weekend of outlining and pre-midterm cramming.
Um, party?
...oh yes, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Section H wins the Classiest Cocktail award for mint juleps (with five gallons of fresh, homemade, mint-infused simple syrup). The LLMs came up with something unidentifiable but reportedly strong. Several sections, including J, went Southern with sweet tea vodka and various mixers, while one section just bypassed the bottles in favor of pouring the punch straight into the cooler. (Hey, whatever works, folks.) I broke down around 11:30 and had a mint julep, figuring that as long as I was going to walk around a muddy field in a newly-trimmed hat, I should drink something vaguely reminiscent of Kentucky. Then again, drinking said mint julep from a red Solo cup kind of killed the ambiance.
There were sunburns, there were long lines at the Port-a-lets, there was seersucker and madras and a tux with tails, and at least one guy too far gone to keep from falling over himself. There were adorable terrier races and, surprisingly enough, actual horses. (I know, I know, some students have never seen a horse at Foxfield--they're rather like the yeti. Fast, sweaty yeti.) Yes, there were horses, and jockeys to ride the horses--all except the jockey riding #3, the horse on which I was unofficially betting, who managed to fall off said horse in the final stretch of the first race. Hey, as long as you're down, might as well wander over to the Law Tailgating Ghetto and grab yourself a cold one, buddy.
Everyone seemed to be none the worse for wear today, though the Virginia Law Weekly complained last Friday that we weren't getting Yom Kippur, "the Jewish holy day of Foxfield hangovers," off from class. At least we're in the home stretch before Fall Break, the long weekend of outlining and pre-midterm cramming.
Um, party?
Friday, September 25, 2009
Better than Bar Review...
...The Decemberists! At the Pavilion last night!
After an opening by Laura Veirs and The Hall of Flames, they played The Hazards of Love in its entirety--and since that was an hour straight, they followed it with a half-hour break/set change before returning to do older pieces. Colin Meloy conducted a sing-along, the crowd rocked out to accordion solos, glow sticks were tossed around the front of the room, and some folks from Section L actually showed up in their softball t-shirts. Way to represent, folks.
But no one seemed to have as much fun as the fellow I'll simply call Windmill Man, who stood just behind the crowd...erm...dancing to his own beat. Sometimes he held his face in his hands. Sometimes he raised his arms to heaven, as if Jesus were speaking to him via the spotlights. Sometimes he just stared around the room, as if noticing that our row was laughing at him, but seemed to forget almost as quickly. And then, just for the hell of it, he broke into windmills--huge, sloppy, random windmills. Given that no one on stage was doing windmills at the time, this proved all the more interesting for those of us sitting behind him.
In between dance numbers, he'd sniff at a beer that may or may not have been his, and sometimes bump into people. Someone toked during the concert, but I have no clue what, besides too much alcohol, Windmill Man could have been on. I'm tempted to say he was high on life, but he seemed a bit too far gone.
In conclusion: Ghost children, ball tossing, and "Wait, is that Professor..." moments made for an excellent evening.
After an opening by Laura Veirs and The Hall of Flames, they played The Hazards of Love in its entirety--and since that was an hour straight, they followed it with a half-hour break/set change before returning to do older pieces. Colin Meloy conducted a sing-along, the crowd rocked out to accordion solos, glow sticks were tossed around the front of the room, and some folks from Section L actually showed up in their softball t-shirts. Way to represent, folks.
But no one seemed to have as much fun as the fellow I'll simply call Windmill Man, who stood just behind the crowd...erm...dancing to his own beat. Sometimes he held his face in his hands. Sometimes he raised his arms to heaven, as if Jesus were speaking to him via the spotlights. Sometimes he just stared around the room, as if noticing that our row was laughing at him, but seemed to forget almost as quickly. And then, just for the hell of it, he broke into windmills--huge, sloppy, random windmills. Given that no one on stage was doing windmills at the time, this proved all the more interesting for those of us sitting behind him.
In between dance numbers, he'd sniff at a beer that may or may not have been his, and sometimes bump into people. Someone toked during the concert, but I have no clue what, besides too much alcohol, Windmill Man could have been on. I'm tempted to say he was high on life, but he seemed a bit too far gone.
In conclusion: Ghost children, ball tossing, and "Wait, is that Professor..." moments made for an excellent evening.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
A minor plea
Dear Girl From Another Section:
I love sandals, you love sandals, we all seem to love sandals, even though the classroom thermostat is set somewhere between "chilly" and "Antarctic." You want to wear flip-flops? Be my guest.
You want to take off your flip-flops while you tuck your feet into your chair? Not hurting anyone.
What I don't get is why you felt the need to pick at your toes during class this morning. Please clean your feet before you come to school. Please. That's all I'm asking. I don't care what you wear, but for heaven's sake, I don't want to watch you mine for gold. My breakfast is still digesting.
Just a thought.
I love sandals, you love sandals, we all seem to love sandals, even though the classroom thermostat is set somewhere between "chilly" and "Antarctic." You want to wear flip-flops? Be my guest.
You want to take off your flip-flops while you tuck your feet into your chair? Not hurting anyone.
What I don't get is why you felt the need to pick at your toes during class this morning. Please clean your feet before you come to school. Please. That's all I'm asking. I don't care what you wear, but for heaven's sake, I don't want to watch you mine for gold. My breakfast is still digesting.
Just a thought.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Donation Fail
I like to think that I'm not a completely non-civic-minded person. Granted, I don't recycle on a regular basis and I'm not driving a Prius, but when something like a school blood drive comes up, I try to get in on it. Come on--they come to you, they offer snack food, and all you have to do is kick back and be a tad...exsanguinated. Nothing to it, and you might just save a life. It's win-win, really.
And so, when Virginia Blood Services announced that they were coming, I made my reservation and showed up after LR&W this morning. They ran the usual tests--the handy mini-physical and the "Are you sure you don't have Mad Cow or sleep with prostitutes?" questionnaire--and then it was time for the Main Event.
I requested my left arm. Nurse I Don't Want To Be Here poked and prodded, glared at it, then switched to my other arm and repeated the operation. When that produced nothing, she called Nurse Knows What She's Doing, who did her own poking, then shook her head and said, "No way. I'm scared to stick you."
"What's wrong?" I asked, having thought that the iron test would be the major hurdle of the day.
"You have spaghetti veins," she replied, releasing my arm. "And the only vein I could find, the one over here? It's an artery."
Crud.
They recommended I drink a ton of water and come back tomorrow, which isn't going to work. On the way out, Receptionist Nurse told me to take food and a t-shirt. I told her I hadn't actually given any blood, but she said to go ahead, that I could have another tomorrow.
So now I have a t-shirt, a Qdoba coupon, and a "Be Nice To Me, I Gave Blood Today" sticker. Tell me, am I a horrible person because, as I walked away, I began wondering if VBS's promise to provide said goodies could be enforced, and whether there was any consideration to this arrangement?
In other news, most of the dreams I remember are now law school-related. Help.
And so, when Virginia Blood Services announced that they were coming, I made my reservation and showed up after LR&W this morning. They ran the usual tests--the handy mini-physical and the "Are you sure you don't have Mad Cow or sleep with prostitutes?" questionnaire--and then it was time for the Main Event.
I requested my left arm. Nurse I Don't Want To Be Here poked and prodded, glared at it, then switched to my other arm and repeated the operation. When that produced nothing, she called Nurse Knows What She's Doing, who did her own poking, then shook her head and said, "No way. I'm scared to stick you."
"What's wrong?" I asked, having thought that the iron test would be the major hurdle of the day.
"You have spaghetti veins," she replied, releasing my arm. "And the only vein I could find, the one over here? It's an artery."
Crud.
They recommended I drink a ton of water and come back tomorrow, which isn't going to work. On the way out, Receptionist Nurse told me to take food and a t-shirt. I told her I hadn't actually given any blood, but she said to go ahead, that I could have another tomorrow.
So now I have a t-shirt, a Qdoba coupon, and a "Be Nice To Me, I Gave Blood Today" sticker. Tell me, am I a horrible person because, as I walked away, I began wondering if VBS's promise to provide said goodies could be enforced, and whether there was any consideration to this arrangement?
In other news, most of the dreams I remember are now law school-related. Help.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
This seems familiar somehow
After a delicious Mexican dinner (and the near-hour of fighting gameday traffic snarls it took to get there--seriously, Charlottesville, let's think about widening some of these roads), I went to see 9 this evening. The film provided a most welcome respite, though I couldn't help noticing a few...echoes. A sample:
Lord of the Rings: A small creature played by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of Sauron, an evil immortal portrayed as a giant red eye. Sauron is virtually destroyed when the Ring is thrown into the volcano.
9: A small creature voiced by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of The B.R.A.I.N., a master robot whose defining "facial" characteristic is a large red light. The robot's minions are destroyed when the protagonists burn the factory down.
Return of the Jedi: At the end of the film, three "Force ghosts" come out to briefly join the party and wave.
9: At the end of the film, the five "stitchpunk ghosts" are released and wave their goodbyes.
There are other nods, like the War of the Worlds-style Giant Tripod Machines o' Death, but this film does have its creative bits. Most notable is the animation, which is quite good.
In sum: See it again? Probably not. Better than reviewing my notes? Most definitely.
Lord of the Rings: A small creature played by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of Sauron, an evil immortal portrayed as a giant red eye. Sauron is virtually destroyed when the Ring is thrown into the volcano.
9: A small creature voiced by Elijah Wood must enter the dark, dangerous stronghold of The B.R.A.I.N., a master robot whose defining "facial" characteristic is a large red light. The robot's minions are destroyed when the protagonists burn the factory down.
Return of the Jedi: At the end of the film, three "Force ghosts" come out to briefly join the party and wave.
9: At the end of the film, the five "stitchpunk ghosts" are released and wave their goodbyes.
There are other nods, like the War of the Worlds-style Giant Tripod Machines o' Death, but this film does have its creative bits. Most notable is the animation, which is quite good.
In sum: See it again? Probably not. Better than reviewing my notes? Most definitely.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Overheard on the U-Hall bus
I took my second University bus trip this afternoon, and for the record, let me say that I truly loathe the parking situation in this town. First, I drove from the Law School blue lot--the North Forty, let's call it--and parked less than a mile away at U Hall. From there, I caught a bus that took a whopping twenty minutes to get me a mile up the road to Gilmer. Honestly, it almost would have been quicker to walk.
The presentation at Gilmer was fun--apparently, a majority of UVA Law alumni from the class of 1990 are at least satisfied with their lives--but then came the bus ride back. Silly me, I assumed every bus eventually made the U Hall rounds. Ha. As we cruised back toward Gilmer half an hour later, the bus driver told me he'd drop me at the Chapel to wait for a transfer. At least I got the Central Grounds tour.
On my final bus of the day, I found myself beside two undergrads, both track members, a boy and a girl. Their conversation went roughly as follows:
Boy: Are you still sick?
Girl: Yeah, I was supposed to be with the coach this morning, but I called and she must have heard it in my voice, so I had to go to the doctor, and now I'm waiting for blood work. Actually, I should be in physics right now.
Boy: No big deal.
Girl: Yeah, but I skipped class yesterday, too. I just don't feel good.
Boy: Me, either. So...are you going out tonight?
Girl: Yeah, I think so.
*Facepalm*
Okay, children, what did your mommy always tell you? If you're too sick for school, you're too sick to play. Alcohol isn't going to kill the germs...
The presentation at Gilmer was fun--apparently, a majority of UVA Law alumni from the class of 1990 are at least satisfied with their lives--but then came the bus ride back. Silly me, I assumed every bus eventually made the U Hall rounds. Ha. As we cruised back toward Gilmer half an hour later, the bus driver told me he'd drop me at the Chapel to wait for a transfer. At least I got the Central Grounds tour.
On my final bus of the day, I found myself beside two undergrads, both track members, a boy and a girl. Their conversation went roughly as follows:
Boy: Are you still sick?
Girl: Yeah, I was supposed to be with the coach this morning, but I called and she must have heard it in my voice, so I had to go to the doctor, and now I'm waiting for blood work. Actually, I should be in physics right now.
Boy: No big deal.
Girl: Yeah, but I skipped class yesterday, too. I just don't feel good.
Boy: Me, either. So...are you going out tonight?
Girl: Yeah, I think so.
*Facepalm*
Okay, children, what did your mommy always tell you? If you're too sick for school, you're too sick to play. Alcohol isn't going to kill the germs...
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Something's wrong with this picture
It's 6 p.m. on Sunday night. I've sung two church services today and finished dinner. Do I:
A) Relax with the Planet Earth marathon?
B) Read something fluffy?
C) Try to improve my pathetic Bejeweled Blitz score?
D) Think, "You know, this would be a fabulous time to go back to school and get ahead in my reading," since it's been a whopping 48 hours since I was last on grounds and I'm feeling guilty about it.
It's 7:50, my Contracts casebook is beside me, and I'm staring at the lockers. Yup, option D won.
Sad, isn't it?
A) Relax with the Planet Earth marathon?
B) Read something fluffy?
C) Try to improve my pathetic Bejeweled Blitz score?
D) Think, "You know, this would be a fabulous time to go back to school and get ahead in my reading," since it's been a whopping 48 hours since I was last on grounds and I'm feeling guilty about it.
It's 7:50, my Contracts casebook is beside me, and I'm staring at the lockers. Yup, option D won.
Sad, isn't it?
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Dandelion
Before entering, 1Ls anticipate all sorts of things: expensive textbooks, being called by their last names, and middle-school-style drama. What many of us didn't expect was Dandelion, or as someone put it yesterday, "the last vestige of law school hazing."
Basically, yesterday afternoon, the 2Ls, 3Ls, and 1Ls who opted to not embarrass themselves headed over to the Park, where the kegs were tapped at 4:30. From the shade, they could then watch (and heckle) as each 1L section and the LLMs performed a skit or dance with a theme somehow tied to the section letter. (J was Michael Jackson, for instance, D was Decades, G was Ghostbusters, K was KISS, and I was Eye of the Tiger. Also, L was on a boat.)
After participating and watching a few skits, here's what I learned:
1) None of us got into UVA on our mad dance skills.
2) Cross-dressing is an integral part of the Dandelion experience.
3) If you lube up with baby oil, then mock-box someone in the bed of a pickup truck, you win. (Or you can do what last year's winners did and convince Prof. Harrison to do Hugh Hefner for you, complete with Bunnies and the Wahooptie. Either way.)
The prize? Playing softball against the upperclassmen last night.
Honestly, I wasn't too sorry to see victory pass us by.
Basically, yesterday afternoon, the 2Ls, 3Ls, and 1Ls who opted to not embarrass themselves headed over to the Park, where the kegs were tapped at 4:30. From the shade, they could then watch (and heckle) as each 1L section and the LLMs performed a skit or dance with a theme somehow tied to the section letter. (J was Michael Jackson, for instance, D was Decades, G was Ghostbusters, K was KISS, and I was Eye of the Tiger. Also, L was on a boat.)
After participating and watching a few skits, here's what I learned:
1) None of us got into UVA on our mad dance skills.
2) Cross-dressing is an integral part of the Dandelion experience.
3) If you lube up with baby oil, then mock-box someone in the bed of a pickup truck, you win. (Or you can do what last year's winners did and convince Prof. Harrison to do Hugh Hefner for you, complete with Bunnies and the Wahooptie. Either way.)
The prize? Playing softball against the upperclassmen last night.
Honestly, I wasn't too sorry to see victory pass us by.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Oddest moment of the week thus far
Apologies to anyone already subjected to my Blackberry photos...
Hot air ballooning is a big thing in Charlottesville, and with good reason: the scenery is fabulous. Tuesday morning, as I was preparing to head to school, I noticed a balloon hovering over my apartment complex. Thinking nothing of it, I pulled out onto Georgetown, but as I drove, I saw the balloon out my left window, flying just ahead of me. I lost sight of it as I turned onto grounds, but when I rounded the corner to park, I saw it coming down in our lower lot.
As I pulled in, the balloon was just touching down, and, like an idiot, I jumped out of my car with the phone out, ready to take some shaky pictures. I managed to snap the basket--the darn thing was too close to be shot as a whole--and one of the kids inside spotted me.
"Hi!" he called.
"Hi!" I called back, feeling kind of like a stalker. "That's really cool!"
"It is!" he yelled. "You should try it!"
Good point, kid...
I hefted my backpack and headed for school, wishing ballooning had been part of our orientation activities.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
It's not you, it's me
Dearest Civ Pro and Torts,
It's not that I don't love you. I love all my courses equally. It's just that I have questions about your behavior, now and in the future.
That's why I bought the Nutshells.
Really, it's not you, it's me.
Kisses.
It's not that I don't love you. I love all my courses equally. It's just that I have questions about your behavior, now and in the future.
That's why I bought the Nutshells.
Really, it's not you, it's me.
Kisses.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tubing Excursion
It's quarter of seven on Saturday night, and I'm seriously considering going to bed.
Lame? Probably, but I'm exhausted. After my first-ever tubing trip, complete with gorgeous skies and not-so-gorgeous sunburn, I've had about as much fun for one day as I can stand.
Last week's tubing was something of a mixed bag. Lightning made the three-hour float a bit iffy, and I heard that a few of the smarter folks who got out of the water during the worst part of the storm were accidentally left behind when the buses began the 40-minute trip back to campus. We were hoping for better weather this weekend, and waking up to rain didn't bode well for the day, but by the time we reached the river, the sun had come out full force. Tubes were passed around, cooler tubes were rented, and several dozen law students--and probably as many beers--set off down the James.
The party fractured quickly into clumps of folks around coolers and smaller clumps of folks who wanted no part of the Natty Light. Suffice it say that "Shotgun Island" has nothing to do with firearms, there's great amusement in watching the inebriated try to tube down rapids, and I had no idea how high alcohol tolerance could go. At the end of the day, we were all a little sunburned (no surprise here), and some of the 1Ls were at least a little buzzed, but we survived low water levels and swarms of mating dragonflies, and it seems like everyone had a good time.
Classiest tubing accompaniment: brie and baguettes
Sketchiest tubing accompaniment: a cooler half-filled with punch, to be consumed via turkey baster
Best sunburn: to be determined
Lame? Probably, but I'm exhausted. After my first-ever tubing trip, complete with gorgeous skies and not-so-gorgeous sunburn, I've had about as much fun for one day as I can stand.
Last week's tubing was something of a mixed bag. Lightning made the three-hour float a bit iffy, and I heard that a few of the smarter folks who got out of the water during the worst part of the storm were accidentally left behind when the buses began the 40-minute trip back to campus. We were hoping for better weather this weekend, and waking up to rain didn't bode well for the day, but by the time we reached the river, the sun had come out full force. Tubes were passed around, cooler tubes were rented, and several dozen law students--and probably as many beers--set off down the James.
The party fractured quickly into clumps of folks around coolers and smaller clumps of folks who wanted no part of the Natty Light. Suffice it say that "Shotgun Island" has nothing to do with firearms, there's great amusement in watching the inebriated try to tube down rapids, and I had no idea how high alcohol tolerance could go. At the end of the day, we were all a little sunburned (no surprise here), and some of the 1Ls were at least a little buzzed, but we survived low water levels and swarms of mating dragonflies, and it seems like everyone had a good time.
Classiest tubing accompaniment: brie and baguettes
Sketchiest tubing accompaniment: a cooler half-filled with punch, to be consumed via turkey baster
Best sunburn: to be determined
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
One of those days
Confession: I freak out a little when things go wrong with my car. It probably doesn't help that since high school, I've been driving vehicles that turn on a helpful "SERVICE ENGINE NOW" light every time they have the slightest hiccup--ever vigilant against sudden engine explosion, I end up taking the car to the dealer and getting it serviced, all the while grumbling about catch-all doomsday dashboard lights. (Also, when one is in Birmingham and the nearest dealer is in Atlanta, and one is working two jobs, "ENGINE DEATH IMMINENT" lights are the last thing one wants to see.)
Last night, I discovered that my Pioneer disc changer has up and died. While nowhere near the level of the "BEWARE ENGINE FIREBALL" indicator, this problem annoys me for three simple reasons:
1) I like my disc changer.
2)I haven't the faintest idea how to fix the disc changer, even after poking around for manuals online and calling Pioneer. (And unscrewing the back of the console unit, looking for batteries, before realizing there were no batteries to change.)
3) Since the disc changer is obviously not receiving or responding to power at the moment, the magazine is stuck inside, meaning I can't remove my CDs.
Granted, there's not much inside the magazine that I haven't imported into iTunes by now, but it's the principle of the thing--I'd like my Albanach CD back, thank you, and my bought-at-the-vintage-store-for-$3 copy of "Live in the X Lounge IV", and the homemade disc that the car's previous owner left in the changer, which has good tracks that I've, sadly, not yet bothered to look up.
Best Buy says they'll have a look at it, but it's $20 per 15 minutes of work. Any other ideas?
Last night, I discovered that my Pioneer disc changer has up and died. While nowhere near the level of the "BEWARE ENGINE FIREBALL" indicator, this problem annoys me for three simple reasons:
1) I like my disc changer.
2)I haven't the faintest idea how to fix the disc changer, even after poking around for manuals online and calling Pioneer. (And unscrewing the back of the console unit, looking for batteries, before realizing there were no batteries to change.)
3) Since the disc changer is obviously not receiving or responding to power at the moment, the magazine is stuck inside, meaning I can't remove my CDs.
Granted, there's not much inside the magazine that I haven't imported into iTunes by now, but it's the principle of the thing--I'd like my Albanach CD back, thank you, and my bought-at-the-vintage-store-for-$3 copy of "Live in the X Lounge IV", and the homemade disc that the car's previous owner left in the changer, which has good tracks that I've, sadly, not yet bothered to look up.
Best Buy says they'll have a look at it, but it's $20 per 15 minutes of work. Any other ideas?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Singing again
After a month's hiatus, I've joined a new church choir. Now I once again have a reason to sing outside the confines of my car! (Of course, that may or may not be a good thing, but as long as I sing along with the Rent soundtrack by myself, no one gets hurt, right?)
Yes, I realize the SBA activities fair is Thursday afternoon, but priorities, people. If the law school spawns a choir that wants to tackle something Messiah-like, come find me, okay?
Speaking of which, this activities fair should be fun. We leave Civ Pro with half an hour to make the rounds, get the fliers, and do the whole "So...how'd you like to join our club?" thing we all knew and loved in undergrad. At least there won't be roving bands of a cappella singers at this fair...unless someone forgot to mention them in the brochure...
Tomorrow afternoon, we get to hear a few remarks about public interest law. Thursday is the aforementioned fair, Saturday is tubing, and Sunday is softball. A few parties are being thrown in the mix as well. Oh yeah, and reading. Right...that.
Actually, the reading has been much better than I'd anticipated. It's usually interesting, for one, and with this nice break in the middle of the day, I've had time to do some of my homework without having to lug the casebooks home. I mean, the bookbag's sexy [cough, cough] enough when it's not bulging at the seams.
Yes, I realize the SBA activities fair is Thursday afternoon, but priorities, people. If the law school spawns a choir that wants to tackle something Messiah-like, come find me, okay?
Speaking of which, this activities fair should be fun. We leave Civ Pro with half an hour to make the rounds, get the fliers, and do the whole "So...how'd you like to join our club?" thing we all knew and loved in undergrad. At least there won't be roving bands of a cappella singers at this fair...unless someone forgot to mention them in the brochure...
Tomorrow afternoon, we get to hear a few remarks about public interest law. Thursday is the aforementioned fair, Saturday is tubing, and Sunday is softball. A few parties are being thrown in the mix as well. Oh yeah, and reading. Right...that.
Actually, the reading has been much better than I'd anticipated. It's usually interesting, for one, and with this nice break in the middle of the day, I've had time to do some of my homework without having to lug the casebooks home. I mean, the bookbag's sexy [cough, cough] enough when it's not bulging at the seams.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friday? Really?
Well, we survived the first week. As far as I know, no one cried in class.
Wednesday afternoon, as we were enjoying the brownies and champagne our fabulous peer advisers had provided as an End of Day One party, someone said that it felt like we'd just spent three days in school instead of one. Yesterday was also tough--four of our five classes met--but today was a two-class day, and things are beginning to feel slightly better. We've had all of our classes at least once (Contracts three times), class elections, library orientation, the first cold call, our first Bar Review, and an ice cream social. Tonight brings a potluck dinner; next Saturday will be our tubing excursion. The social calendar is, in a word, packed.
Apparently, one of the upperclassmen takes off time every weekend--from Friday at 5 p.m. to Sunday at 2 p.m.--but I'm settling for spending a few hours in front of the TV. I find that I've appreciated quality vegging more in the last two days than I have in a while.
School's great--the classes are interesting and the reading gets better after the Latin begins to make sense--but those who say that law school is like high school are on to something. We have lockers (mine's at the other end of the building from my first class), we pack lunches, and, for some of us, the book bags are coming out of storage. For me, it's the L. L. Bean, circa 2000, with--yes--the monogram. Sexy? No, but it's almost large enough to hold all my books and it's saving my back.
In other ways, though, this week at school has reminded me so much of undergrad. There's the question script--name, hometown, college, section, rinse, repeat--the activities fair next week, and the bowl of candy in the office. Sadly, my bursar billing privileges have gone by the wayside, but I'll say that the bookstore here is so much more efficient than the B&N at Yale ever was, and they sell bags of Haribo, besides.
Speaking of undergrad, 2013 arrives this weekend, and the grocery store was packed this afternoon. I saw just enough of the Bed, Bath, and Beyond to know I wanted absolutely no part of that store until at least Monday--releasing the frosh is never a simple affair--and even if the crowds hadn't been a giveaway, the three Penske trucks parked nearby spoke of nervous parents and clueless newbies. Here's to not living in the dorms!
Wednesday afternoon, as we were enjoying the brownies and champagne our fabulous peer advisers had provided as an End of Day One party, someone said that it felt like we'd just spent three days in school instead of one. Yesterday was also tough--four of our five classes met--but today was a two-class day, and things are beginning to feel slightly better. We've had all of our classes at least once (Contracts three times), class elections, library orientation, the first cold call, our first Bar Review, and an ice cream social. Tonight brings a potluck dinner; next Saturday will be our tubing excursion. The social calendar is, in a word, packed.
Apparently, one of the upperclassmen takes off time every weekend--from Friday at 5 p.m. to Sunday at 2 p.m.--but I'm settling for spending a few hours in front of the TV. I find that I've appreciated quality vegging more in the last two days than I have in a while.
School's great--the classes are interesting and the reading gets better after the Latin begins to make sense--but those who say that law school is like high school are on to something. We have lockers (mine's at the other end of the building from my first class), we pack lunches, and, for some of us, the book bags are coming out of storage. For me, it's the L. L. Bean, circa 2000, with--yes--the monogram. Sexy? No, but it's almost large enough to hold all my books and it's saving my back.
In other ways, though, this week at school has reminded me so much of undergrad. There's the question script--name, hometown, college, section, rinse, repeat--the activities fair next week, and the bowl of candy in the office. Sadly, my bursar billing privileges have gone by the wayside, but I'll say that the bookstore here is so much more efficient than the B&N at Yale ever was, and they sell bags of Haribo, besides.
Speaking of undergrad, 2013 arrives this weekend, and the grocery store was packed this afternoon. I saw just enough of the Bed, Bath, and Beyond to know I wanted absolutely no part of that store until at least Monday--releasing the frosh is never a simple affair--and even if the crowds hadn't been a giveaway, the three Penske trucks parked nearby spoke of nervous parents and clueless newbies. Here's to not living in the dorms!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Orientation, Day the Second
Orientation officially came to an end after lunch today, but the calendar remains full: tubing, softball, class elections, Bar Review, potluck, horse races, and skit writing, to name a few entries. It's a lot to digest, but at least there are no awkward sex ed meetings/role-playing sketches this time through.
Oh yeah, and classes begin tomorrow. There's always that.
The day begins at 8:50, which sounds early when considering the collegiate mindset. (My section in Edinburgh had class from 4 to 6, for instance, and complained bitterly when our lit class second semester met at 10 a.m., which was tantamount to meeting in the middle of the night for some folks.) I try to remind myself that I've spent most of the last year arriving at work (one job or another) at 7:30, and that this is actually sleeping in, but the undergrad in me is still a touch displeased. Still, the long lunch break will certainly come in handy as the semester progresses--having taken a look at the Legal Research syllabus, I'm foreseeing quality library time in the near future.
Incidentally, tomorrow will probably be the day when someone wins the Cold Call Pot. I'm thinking that this is probably the one time in our entire law school career when the whole section wants to be called on.
Oh yeah, and classes begin tomorrow. There's always that.
The day begins at 8:50, which sounds early when considering the collegiate mindset. (My section in Edinburgh had class from 4 to 6, for instance, and complained bitterly when our lit class second semester met at 10 a.m., which was tantamount to meeting in the middle of the night for some folks.) I try to remind myself that I've spent most of the last year arriving at work (one job or another) at 7:30, and that this is actually sleeping in, but the undergrad in me is still a touch displeased. Still, the long lunch break will certainly come in handy as the semester progresses--having taken a look at the Legal Research syllabus, I'm foreseeing quality library time in the near future.
Incidentally, tomorrow will probably be the day when someone wins the Cold Call Pot. I'm thinking that this is probably the one time in our entire law school career when the whole section wants to be called on.
Monday, August 17, 2009
One for the folks in Birmingham...
Here's one way to start law school. Paraphrasing one of the speeches this morning:
"Members of your class have worked for NASA, DOJ, and other government agencies. You have been in the Peace Corps and Teach for America. Some of you are in the armed forces. We have teachers, a bartender, a minister--not the same person--and a tenured professor in philosophy..."
And then, after a bit...
"Members of the class have worked for National Geographic, Jane, and...since this is Virginia...Southern Living."
Cue laughter.
Hey, it's a talking point.
"Members of your class have worked for NASA, DOJ, and other government agencies. You have been in the Peace Corps and Teach for America. Some of you are in the armed forces. We have teachers, a bartender, a minister--not the same person--and a tenured professor in philosophy..."
And then, after a bit...
"Members of the class have worked for National Geographic, Jane, and...since this is Virginia...Southern Living."
Cue laughter.
Hey, it's a talking point.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Last Weekend of Freedom
By this time next week, I expect to be knee-deep in casebooks, but for now, I'm still blissfully (almost) indolent. After reading my first assignment yesterday afternoon (Contracts looks like...fun? No, that's not the word...) and hanging out downtown last night, I slept in this morning, then hit the Saturday farmers' market at Jen's suggestion.
The bad: The farmers set up shop in the one free parking lot.
The good: Plenty of veggies (particularly tomatoes of all types) and potted plants, plus an odd assortment of other stalls--lamb and free-range eggs, organic cleaning agents, tacos, bagel sandwiches, Bosnian food, pottery, and half a dozen jewelry stands, to name a few. They're only open until noon, but it's worth rolling out of bed and taking a look.
One stall is run by a fellow who sells, among other things, raw cheese. Now, technically, you're not allowed to sell raw cheese in this state, so he advertises "free cheese" in exchange for a donation toward petitioning the legislature to change the rules. When I was there around 11, a woman asked him what cheeses were available. "None," he shrugged. "They're gone by 8:30."
Charlottesville folk are serious about their raw, organic, green, pesticide-free, recycled, free-range whatever.
On the way back, I learned a new way to the law school. It's really only about two miles or so from our apartment, making it technically walkable in case of ice storm and/or Cooper failure. (I mean, yes, it's more than walkable now--I did it yesterday--but with temperatures here in the 80s and humidity in the 90-95% range, I'd show up too gross for class.) Orientation begins Monday, and for the time being, however, I intend to take full advantage of the lax parking restrictions. What commuter lot?
The bad: The farmers set up shop in the one free parking lot.
The good: Plenty of veggies (particularly tomatoes of all types) and potted plants, plus an odd assortment of other stalls--lamb and free-range eggs, organic cleaning agents, tacos, bagel sandwiches, Bosnian food, pottery, and half a dozen jewelry stands, to name a few. They're only open until noon, but it's worth rolling out of bed and taking a look.
One stall is run by a fellow who sells, among other things, raw cheese. Now, technically, you're not allowed to sell raw cheese in this state, so he advertises "free cheese" in exchange for a donation toward petitioning the legislature to change the rules. When I was there around 11, a woman asked him what cheeses were available. "None," he shrugged. "They're gone by 8:30."
Charlottesville folk are serious about their raw, organic, green, pesticide-free, recycled, free-range whatever.
On the way back, I learned a new way to the law school. It's really only about two miles or so from our apartment, making it technically walkable in case of ice storm and/or Cooper failure. (I mean, yes, it's more than walkable now--I did it yesterday--but with temperatures here in the 80s and humidity in the 90-95% range, I'd show up too gross for class.) Orientation begins Monday, and for the time being, however, I intend to take full advantage of the lax parking restrictions. What commuter lot?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Happy Days Are Here Again
Late this morning, I obsessively checked LawWeb for the umpteenth time, only to discover that my two-week "Well, maybe they're giving themselves a large window" vigil was at an end. The section list was up.
I soon learned that I was a member of section J, which meant little at the time but allowed me to grab my tote bag and head for the bookstore to complete my 1L Fall Term Library. (We're not sure how the sections are divided, but my guess involves a Sorting Hat.) Fortunately, the bookstore has the 1L buying spree down to a science, and once I told the clerk my section letter, she quickly walked me down the line, pulling copies while barely stopping to check the labels. $500 later, I left with three casebooks and assorted paperbacks. It could have been worse: some of the sections, in lieu of books, had copied packets to buy next door. Good times.
As I was contemplating my purchases, I decided to head for the lounge, where I noticed that the students milling about fell into one of two camps. In the first were the 1Ls, wearing jeans or shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, carrying bookstore bags and looking generally lost. In the second were the 2Ls, who sported business suits and briefcases, and sat around scarfing trail mix and drinking coffee between interviews. There was no mingling, but then I suppose the 2Ls had more important matters on their minds.
Shortly thereafter, I headed back to the apartment and returned to LawWeb, where I found the course listings and started looking for my section. I scrolled down, seeking out the Js, and then I found it: 8:50 a.m. class, five days a week.
First thought: Aw, crud.
Second thought: This is God's idea of a practical joke after the last year of 8 a.m. freshman English classes.
It turned out that my section isn't the only one thus scheduled, and no one seems to care for the arrangements. Still, I consoled myself over dinner with good company and delicious sweet potato fries. Let's hope the nine-mile walk this morning was good for something!
I soon learned that I was a member of section J, which meant little at the time but allowed me to grab my tote bag and head for the bookstore to complete my 1L Fall Term Library. (We're not sure how the sections are divided, but my guess involves a Sorting Hat.) Fortunately, the bookstore has the 1L buying spree down to a science, and once I told the clerk my section letter, she quickly walked me down the line, pulling copies while barely stopping to check the labels. $500 later, I left with three casebooks and assorted paperbacks. It could have been worse: some of the sections, in lieu of books, had copied packets to buy next door. Good times.
As I was contemplating my purchases, I decided to head for the lounge, where I noticed that the students milling about fell into one of two camps. In the first were the 1Ls, wearing jeans or shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, carrying bookstore bags and looking generally lost. In the second were the 2Ls, who sported business suits and briefcases, and sat around scarfing trail mix and drinking coffee between interviews. There was no mingling, but then I suppose the 2Ls had more important matters on their minds.
Shortly thereafter, I headed back to the apartment and returned to LawWeb, where I found the course listings and started looking for my section. I scrolled down, seeking out the Js, and then I found it: 8:50 a.m. class, five days a week.
First thought: Aw, crud.
Second thought: This is God's idea of a practical joke after the last year of 8 a.m. freshman English classes.
It turned out that my section isn't the only one thus scheduled, and no one seems to care for the arrangements. Still, I consoled myself over dinner with good company and delicious sweet potato fries. Let's hope the nine-mile walk this morning was good for something!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Virginia Vino
Basically, I've been in a holding pattern for the better part of the last two weeks. I'm here, I'm moved in, I've located the bank and grocery store(s), and I know where my school is located. All I need now is...work to do.
Dear God, that's a sad statement.
I've been checking the school website daily, hoping the section list will be released early, but so far my hopes have been crushed. Without books or assignments to keep me occupied, I've taken to going on excursions, hoping to see a bit more of the area than the walls of the apartment. Today, I retraced my steps to Barboursville, which I visited yesterday in my quest to find ruins, which had been alluded to by a sign on the way to the antiques shops in Ruckersville, a 20-minute drive up 29...
Suffice it to say I'm going to miss this free time by this time next week, but anyway, back to Barboursville. There's a nice vineyard located on the grounds of the old Barboursville plantation, and for $4, you get to sample 16 wines (and keep the glass! Cheap stemware!). Since I made the trek alone and on a largely empty stomach, I figured sampling all 16 wines might be a mistake, even though I knew enough to sniff, sip, and toss the rest of the wine into the bucket (thanks, Davenport Wine Tasting Night!), so I chose a few and ended up buying two bottles, then walked over to the ruins to take pictures. It wasn't Urquhart, but hey, I'll take what I can get (and, lest this factoid be overlooked, Thomas Jefferson designed the place. Did the man ever sleep?)
I ended up continuing the trek north, almost to Culpepper, and spent some quality time in yet another antiques shop (though I refrained from purchasing the 1938 Minute Tapioca recipe guide, which was largely unremarkable except for the inside back cover: paraphrasing, all tapioca is grown in far-away Java, but only Minute Tapioca is produced in America, in clean American factories, so you know it's pure!).
Oh yes, I also managed to cook a turkey breast (points deducted for presentation) and make mashed red potatoes, so the day hasn't been entirely wasted. Not sure what to do tomorrow--sections, please? Pretty please?
One last note: I managed to speak to Shotgun Man, the fellow hanging out in his yard with a firearm. He's trying to kill the groundhog that's been eating his flowers. That's one way to do it...
Dear God, that's a sad statement.
I've been checking the school website daily, hoping the section list will be released early, but so far my hopes have been crushed. Without books or assignments to keep me occupied, I've taken to going on excursions, hoping to see a bit more of the area than the walls of the apartment. Today, I retraced my steps to Barboursville, which I visited yesterday in my quest to find ruins, which had been alluded to by a sign on the way to the antiques shops in Ruckersville, a 20-minute drive up 29...
Suffice it to say I'm going to miss this free time by this time next week, but anyway, back to Barboursville. There's a nice vineyard located on the grounds of the old Barboursville plantation, and for $4, you get to sample 16 wines (and keep the glass! Cheap stemware!). Since I made the trek alone and on a largely empty stomach, I figured sampling all 16 wines might be a mistake, even though I knew enough to sniff, sip, and toss the rest of the wine into the bucket (thanks, Davenport Wine Tasting Night!), so I chose a few and ended up buying two bottles, then walked over to the ruins to take pictures. It wasn't Urquhart, but hey, I'll take what I can get (and, lest this factoid be overlooked, Thomas Jefferson designed the place. Did the man ever sleep?)
I ended up continuing the trek north, almost to Culpepper, and spent some quality time in yet another antiques shop (though I refrained from purchasing the 1938 Minute Tapioca recipe guide, which was largely unremarkable except for the inside back cover: paraphrasing, all tapioca is grown in far-away Java, but only Minute Tapioca is produced in America, in clean American factories, so you know it's pure!).
Oh yes, I also managed to cook a turkey breast (points deducted for presentation) and make mashed red potatoes, so the day hasn't been entirely wasted. Not sure what to do tomorrow--sections, please? Pretty please?
One last note: I managed to speak to Shotgun Man, the fellow hanging out in his yard with a firearm. He's trying to kill the groundhog that's been eating his flowers. That's one way to do it...
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Wildlife
To kill time/improve physical fitness/see the area, I've been taking long walks in the last few days. Yesterday's was a nine-mile slog downtown, so I decided to give my legs a break and go for something shorter and greener this afternoon.
Unfortunately, the route into the country gets a tad crowded during rush hour, and since there's no proper sidewalk, you basically have to get onto the shoulder and pray. Still, it's lovely out there, I've been seeing wildlife (Deer! Groundhog!), and the terrain is nice and hilly.
And then there's the dude who lives about a quarter-mile down the road.
As I passed by this afternoon, headphones firmly in place, I chanced to look over and spotted him sitting in a lawn chair in his side yard, positioned directly in front of what appeared to be a barrel for leaf burning. Across his lap was a shotgun.
I seriously hope he was waiting to kill rabbits or something. In any case, I picked up my pace.
Unfortunately, the route into the country gets a tad crowded during rush hour, and since there's no proper sidewalk, you basically have to get onto the shoulder and pray. Still, it's lovely out there, I've been seeing wildlife (Deer! Groundhog!), and the terrain is nice and hilly.
And then there's the dude who lives about a quarter-mile down the road.
As I passed by this afternoon, headphones firmly in place, I chanced to look over and spotted him sitting in a lawn chair in his side yard, positioned directly in front of what appeared to be a barrel for leaf burning. Across his lap was a shotgun.
I seriously hope he was waiting to kill rabbits or something. In any case, I picked up my pace.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Charlottesville and Blender Cookery
Once upon a time, I used to blog about doing graduate work in Edinburgh. It was fun.
Then I left Scotland, returned to the States, and found myself unemployed. Unemployment isn't exactly a subject upon which one loves to dwell, and so I didn't blog as often. And then, miracle of miracles (and before the economy completely tanked), I became gainfully employed at a Real Company.
Of course, the first rule of business as imparted to my generation is "Thou Shalt Not Blog About Thine Employer, Idiot," and since pretty much all I did was work (at two jobs!) or sing (in two choirs!), the blog fodder basically ran out. Couple that with an unreliable Internet connection, and I ended up with this, a blog that I haven't updated in nearly a year.
Long story short, I'm now in Charlottesville, about to begin law school. I have a shiny new student ID for my collection, which looks remarkably similar to the faculty ID I just removed from my wallet. I have exactly three course books--we don't learn our section-specific reading lists until Thursday--a lovely edition of Black's from my parents, and another gift of my father's, The Complete Idiot's Guide to The U.S. Constitution. At least it has friendly icons, which is more than I can say for the casebook beside it.
Orientation is still a week away, however, meaning I have plenty of time to get acquainted with the town that's striving for the coveted "Crunchiest City in America" title. After griping about Birmingham's flaws for the last two years--you've got to love a city in the top five for murders per capita--I've found Charlottesville adorable on first impression, from the downtown pedestrian mall to the abundance of fro-yo options (to offset the abundance of Five Guys, I assume). The only thing that's rather creepy about this place is its devotion to Thomas Jefferson. The man is practically deified in these parts, but hey, at least he showed interest in his university, which is more than I can say for Elihu Yale.
The aforementioned mall hosts "Fridays After Five" during the summer, a chance to come down, hear a concert, and shop late with thousands of your closest friends. Last week's gave us a heavy metal act, plus a woman on the side of the stage who was dancing like it was the Summer of Love. Hippies seem to abound, but someone has to keep the vendor of pro-marijuana t-shirts in business, right?
Anyway, we stumbled across a vintage shop while we were downtown, where I found a most amusing volume: The Blender Cookbook.
By way of explanation for this purchase, I've been a fan of Lileks.com for several years; I own four book by James Lileks, and I've subjected my friends and family to some of the more...interesting pictures in The Gallery of Regrettable Food. Basically, the site showed me how much fun it is to laugh at the culinary horrors produced during the golden age of Wonder Bread--the photography is bad, but the ingredients are often so much worse. (My last job gave me the opportunity to look through 1960s magazines, which just proved that no one working in the food industry prior to, oh, 1980 should be allowed within ten feet of a Jell-O mold.)
Anticipating what could be in store, I had to have The Blender Cookbook. Best $7 purchase in ages.
Published in 1961, this little volume--"an indispensable cookbook for every blender owner"--offers recipes ranging from breads to meatloaf, to horrors involving gelatin and tongue, simultaneously. It also offers "exceptionally fine black-and-white photographs" for a few of these dishes, like this one:
My apologies for the quality of the image--I don't have a scanner, and my camera hates me today--but that gelatinous mess garnished with citrus slices is, I kid you not, Green-Pea-Salmon Mousse. According to the caption, it "makes a colorful buffet dish to serve 12." Who are they kidding?
I'm not posting pictures of the Tongue-Vegetable Aspic.
My sister has warned me that I am not to attempt to re-create any of these concoctions in her blender. Apparently, she has something against Prune Flip. I can't imagine why.
Then I left Scotland, returned to the States, and found myself unemployed. Unemployment isn't exactly a subject upon which one loves to dwell, and so I didn't blog as often. And then, miracle of miracles (and before the economy completely tanked), I became gainfully employed at a Real Company.
Of course, the first rule of business as imparted to my generation is "Thou Shalt Not Blog About Thine Employer, Idiot," and since pretty much all I did was work (at two jobs!) or sing (in two choirs!), the blog fodder basically ran out. Couple that with an unreliable Internet connection, and I ended up with this, a blog that I haven't updated in nearly a year.
Long story short, I'm now in Charlottesville, about to begin law school. I have a shiny new student ID for my collection, which looks remarkably similar to the faculty ID I just removed from my wallet. I have exactly three course books--we don't learn our section-specific reading lists until Thursday--a lovely edition of Black's from my parents, and another gift of my father's, The Complete Idiot's Guide to The U.S. Constitution. At least it has friendly icons, which is more than I can say for the casebook beside it.
Orientation is still a week away, however, meaning I have plenty of time to get acquainted with the town that's striving for the coveted "Crunchiest City in America" title. After griping about Birmingham's flaws for the last two years--you've got to love a city in the top five for murders per capita--I've found Charlottesville adorable on first impression, from the downtown pedestrian mall to the abundance of fro-yo options (to offset the abundance of Five Guys, I assume). The only thing that's rather creepy about this place is its devotion to Thomas Jefferson. The man is practically deified in these parts, but hey, at least he showed interest in his university, which is more than I can say for Elihu Yale.
The aforementioned mall hosts "Fridays After Five" during the summer, a chance to come down, hear a concert, and shop late with thousands of your closest friends. Last week's gave us a heavy metal act, plus a woman on the side of the stage who was dancing like it was the Summer of Love. Hippies seem to abound, but someone has to keep the vendor of pro-marijuana t-shirts in business, right?
Anyway, we stumbled across a vintage shop while we were downtown, where I found a most amusing volume: The Blender Cookbook.
By way of explanation for this purchase, I've been a fan of Lileks.com for several years; I own four book by James Lileks, and I've subjected my friends and family to some of the more...interesting pictures in The Gallery of Regrettable Food. Basically, the site showed me how much fun it is to laugh at the culinary horrors produced during the golden age of Wonder Bread--the photography is bad, but the ingredients are often so much worse. (My last job gave me the opportunity to look through 1960s magazines, which just proved that no one working in the food industry prior to, oh, 1980 should be allowed within ten feet of a Jell-O mold.)
Anticipating what could be in store, I had to have The Blender Cookbook. Best $7 purchase in ages.
Published in 1961, this little volume--"an indispensable cookbook for every blender owner"--offers recipes ranging from breads to meatloaf, to horrors involving gelatin and tongue, simultaneously. It also offers "exceptionally fine black-and-white photographs" for a few of these dishes, like this one:
My apologies for the quality of the image--I don't have a scanner, and my camera hates me today--but that gelatinous mess garnished with citrus slices is, I kid you not, Green-Pea-Salmon Mousse. According to the caption, it "makes a colorful buffet dish to serve 12." Who are they kidding?
I'm not posting pictures of the Tongue-Vegetable Aspic.
My sister has warned me that I am not to attempt to re-create any of these concoctions in her blender. Apparently, she has something against Prune Flip. I can't imagine why.
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