my cake is confetti.

**Disclaimer:  As much as I want it to be... this genius rant is not mine (although I did touch up the grammar a bit... I couldn't help myself).  Credit: Caitlin, who would probably then credit yoga instructor, Scott.   Regardless, I laughed so hard when I read this, I was sweating.  Well done.

The other day I overheard two people talking and one said to the other, "She wants to have her cake and eat it too." As goofy colloquialisms go, this one... (ahem)... takes the cake. 

[Brilliant.  I love it already.  See how he did that?  Awesome!]

I don't mean to split hairs, but isn't the purpose of having a cake, in fact, to eat it? Are cakes commonly used for other purposes of which I am unaware? Have you ever bought a cake, or made one yourself just to have around? Maybe to keep on a shelf somewhere like a knick-knack, or put out in the yard instead of a garden gnome?

 [Garden gnome!]

Cakes do not make good paperweights, bookends, or plant holders. They are made of sugar, flour, eggs, et cetera. And since this combination of ingredients is commonly found to be delicious, eating your cake seems like a pretty appropriate response when you have one.

The problem with the expression is the frequent implication that someone is being greedy. If the saying were, "having your cake and eating someone else's," I would tend to agree. Or maybe, "having your cake and buying another one." That would work too. That's greedy. But we are talking about YOUR cake here, and cake is also a metaphor for anything that is yours and brings you pleasure

Life isn't just for learning, it's for enjoying. What is the cake in your life, and are you enjoying it? It feels great to share our cake with friends, eating on plates with forks and napkins. But admit it. Sometimes we also eat it with our bare hands, alone, standing up in the kitchen, licking frosting off our fingers and celebrating the taste of something sweet.

Don't feel guilty about enjoying your cake. It's yours and you probably earned it. 

Esch, timing is everything.

So my tongue-in-cheek post yesterday about how Wisconsinites resort to guns to deal with tough times really (REALLY) came back to haunt me this morning when I heard the news story about the school hostage situation at a high school in Marinette, Wisconsin (near Green Bay, for reference).    The sophomore, who was apparently well-liked and had a number of friends, held a classroom full of kids and a teacher, who had been watching a movie in class, hostage at gunpoint for over 5 hours.  He shot the movie projector, a concept which all of a sudden doesn't seem so funny today.  He let many of the kids go before turning the gun on himself, and he is now in critical condition.  Read the full story here. 

In light of this recent news, I considered taking down yesterday's post.  I figured I had posted it late enough that not many people had read it yet, and maybe I could save some face by pretending I never made the comments that I did.  Now obviously, a guy shooting his TV because he doesn't like the way Sarah Palin's daughter dances is a lot funnier than a school shooting.  But there was more to the TV shooter story that I conveniently left out.  The guy pointed the gun at his wife.  Ugh. 

I'm not proud of my post yesterday after all.  In a vacuum, a guy shooting his TV or his lawn mower, or even a movie projector is funny... but when the "real life" aspect of it all gets thrown in the mix, it really is just sad.

I apologize to my readers and to the citizens of my home state for being so callous.

At Least You're Not This Guy

My apologies for not giving everyone something to peruse during the idle (digestive) moments of a holiday weekend.  I hope that even the most bitter of folks found something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.  And, for those Thanksgiving grinches who didn't think they had anything to be thankful for... I give you the first in a series dedicated to making you feel better about your life, called "At Least You're Not This Guy."

This article makes me cringe, despite my reluctant concurrence with the guy's motive (...or "trigger" if you will).  The full complaint by the man's wife can be found on The Smoking Gun (it's three pages... so make sure you click through all of them...).  I recognize that my brief blogging hiatus may translate to me relaying old news.  So for those who already got their hands on Us Weekly and read anything other than the 5 page spread on Princess Catherine (I admire her name switch), my sincerest apologies.

As one who also gets fired up (ha) about politics and also often feels helpless when confronted with the mess we've made, I've often thrown up my hands and copped out with a response like "well, I guess I just have to trust that the system works."  But this man... Steven Get Your Gun... has made quite a name for himself (and consequently, I bet this guy is pissed).

As if this all isn't weird enough, apparently this is not a strange reaction for Wisconsinites during frustrating times.  Take, for another example, this guy.  My favorite part about this particular article, is the note at the bottom that any warranty this guy might otherwise be entitled to, is void as a result of the incident.   Fantastic.

So no matter how bad you think you might have it... no matter how bad you find the current political state of our country ... (say it with me) At Least You're Not This Guy.

the international itch

I have a large bulletin board above my desk in my office.  It's filled with pictures of family and friends, cards I've received, race medals, a Wisconsin license plate, and my favorite poem in the world.  I see people who enter my office for the first time display one of two reactions.  The first is awe, as they scan the many places I've been and silently applaud me for putting all the pictures up in an office.  The second reaction is disgust and disapproval, as they roll their eyes and think this isn't a dorm room.  Regardless of the reaction, the pictures make me happy, and the poem makes me happier.  Actually it makes me nod, smile and muse a little. 

Its called "Where We Are," by Gerald Locklin, and it really summarizes... me:

I envy those
who live in two places:
new york, say, and london;
l.a. and paris;
hawaii and switzerland.

There is always the anticipation
of the change, the chance that what is wrong
is the result of where you are.  I have
always loved both the freshness of
arriving and the relief of leaving.  With 
two homes every move would be a homecoming.
I am not even considering the weather, hot
or cold, dry or wet:  I am talking about hope.

I love it.  I can't say that enough.  You know when you read something and you think "oh my gosh, that's me."  That happened when I first read this poem.  I immediately copied it down, cut it out and pasted it right above my computer.  But, because I know it's there, I rarely take the time to actually read it.  I read it this week... it was much needed.

It's funny to me how many of us still have the itch to go somewhere else for awhile.  We didn't leave that behind in college.  Last weekend I got to spend the day with my law school girl friends.  We don't get to see each other very often, and it's downright rare when we can get (almost) everyone in the same place for more than an hour at a time.  Shockingly, we all managed to have last Sunday free.  We spent the day hiking with our dogs and then sitting around the kitchen table catching up.  I was shocked at how many of us said the exact same thing, "I still want to go abroad for a little bit.  Not long - maybe a year or so - but I feel like I need to do that soon.  I want to come back to Colorado and be here for the rest of my life, but I just have this itch to go while I still can."

But then again, this poem rings true.  We forget the homesick element.  Do I like the idea of living internationally more than I actually like it?  When I lived in Spain, one of my most homesick days ever was Thanksgiving.  There are no pilgrims in Spain... and certainly no stuffing with gravy.  Eat your heart out America.

words to the wise

Angst is the greatest catalyst for writer productivity.  This technically "short" week has been dragging on, not because I'm really looking forward to turkey, but more because I'm really looking forward to writing.  My life feels so up in the air lately that I'm really hoping that writing about someone else's, albeit fabricated, problems will be therapeutic.

I stumbled across this today, and it made me smile (which was pretty tough to do today), so I thought I would share it with y'all:

Do not put statements in the negative form.
And don't start sentences with a conjunction.
If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a
great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.
Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.
Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all.
De-accession euphemisms.
If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.
Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.
Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.
~William Safire, "Great Rules of Writing"

short and sweet...

...like the Thanksgiving work week.

This article makes my blood boil.

This article makes my heart hurt.

... and the culmination of them makes me desperately want to move back to Argentina, even if there's no Thanksgiving in Argentina.

crown us kings and queens of self-righteousness

While I primarily practice corporate law, I have recently been branching out into litigation as a result of my love for writing.  Before this recent switch in practice areas, I had fulfilled my passion for writing by editing other people's pleadings.  I can appreciate how horrid that sounds to most people, but I actually enjoy it.  And I don't just edit pleadings, I also edit emails... from professional to personal, pride-saving emails.  I am sometimes referred to as the "Ghostwriter" for my friends. 


My boyfriend is a lawyer.  He is also Irish.  And he is a litigator (a "good" litigator... both in the sense that he works for the good guys-defending doctors and lawyers, and in that he is good at what he does).  Sometimes, however, his tone needs a little work.  He asked me to look over one of his motions and "edit for tone."  I chewed him out for coming across as pompous.  He was surprised by my critique and said he had worked really hard to "tone" it down (pun intended).  I chalked it up to the Irish in him.

This week, I received an assignment to draft my very own motion.  This is big news for me, and I'm excited to have the opportunity to do some persuasive writing.  As is very much my style, I waited until the last minute to start writing, getting all of the "little things" out of the way so I could really focus all of my attention on the task at hand.  Naturally, my assignment was kind of a "stretch" argument (which is probably why it landed on my desk... Oh, let her give it a shot.  It's not like we're going to win, but she can't really lose it for us either.).  When the argument was first presented to me, I was worried about having to persuasively make an argument that I thought sucked.  But... the more research I did and the more I thought about it, I found myself thinking that maybe we were in the right after all.  The "maybe we were right" turned to "we're definitely right," which turned to "how dare they sue my client over this!!!  How DARE they!!!"  As the hours went on, case law flowed, and my arguments developed, I became more and more convinced that we were right... that I was right... and that this opposing attorney (who had such seemingly winning ideas when I initially read his brief) was ... well, nothing short of an idiot.  I wrote and wrote and wrote, and by the end, I felt really good about my efforts.  In my mind, we had obviously won and no reasonable judge could rule against us.  I set my draft down and took a two hour break (to go buy myself something off the sale rack at Banana Republic because I. Had. Earned it.). 

When I sat back down to begin the revisions process... I was blown away.  I hardly recognized myself in that pleading.  Who was this person?!?!  I could hear the author rolling her eyes throughout the entire piece.  I had broken all of my own cardinal sins of legal drafting... the same ones I had harped on my Irish boyfriend for only days earlier.  Don't use words like "obviously" or "clearly" because you're over-selling it and it's not persuasive.  Do not act like opposing counsel got his law degree yesterday because (well, first off, chances are he's way more experienced than you, and...) the court really doesn't like that.  And the big overarching theme:  Be nice.  You can be nice and still be right.  I could not believe that I was struggling with this...

I immediately emailed my boyfriend, who suddenly didn't seem so Irish, and apologized for making him out to be a mean ogre.  We laughed about our stubbornness and self-righteousness... about how funny it is that what had seemed like a toilet-argument two days earlier had suddenly become the clearest, most common-sense thing I had ever heard.  Maybe the self-righteousness derives from the fact that for two days, or ten days, or two months, or a year, that toilet-argument is our life.  We eat, sleep and breath that argument.  We defend that argument all the way to the end.  And by that end, it doesn't even matter if the argument was right in the first place.  By the end, we're so beyond the technicalities and the law school elements, that all that matters is whether we won or not. 


I can see how litigious and self-serving that all sounded.  But at the end of the day, I believe this is why the system (generally speaking) works.  You take a bunch of self-righteous, stubborn and competitive people and you pit them against each other to solve other people's problems.  The clients' problems become the lawyers' problems and when you combine that with the lawyers' pride... Fireworks.   It really is genius in a way... the design of it all.  But really, I do think we would further the profession so much more if all of us could just rein it in a little bit.  We can still "zealously" represent our clients (I heard a rumor that they removed "zealously" from the ethics rules because lawyers were a little too "zealous"), but we can also be respectful about it.

Funny enough, above, I initially wrote "reign" it in, as opposed to "rein" it in.  Obviously "reign" being associated with royalty (There's a 'g' in both reign and king).  Oh the grammatical irony....

I will take this opportunity to conclude with a note that I don't think I have an ethical violation in disclosing my commentary on my experience in this case.  Having said that, I also feel compelled to tell my readers that you won't find my pleading out there in legal cyberspace.  Ghostwriter strikes again.

legal women: intimidation, inspiration and insidiation?

I'm flattered.  My next Docket assignment is to write an article on the changes within the Colorado Supreme Court.  The article involves interviewing retiring Chief Justice Mary Mullarkey.  I love her story... and she's from Wisco.  As a starting place for my article, one of the Docket editors referred me to this article:  Two Harvard Women: 1965 to Today.  I am blown away by CJ Mullarkey's story and the change of women in law in only 45 short years.  It seems as women we came, we saw, we conquered, and now... for some of us... if we had it to do over again, we wouldn't choose the same route.

There is a great deal of social commentary I want to make on this subject, but I hesitate to do so.  The thing about blogging is that it's the author's, and only the author's, thoughts and opinions... but this can be a double edge sword.  On the one hand, you can say whatever you want to say because it's YOUR blog.  On the other hand, you better really believe what you write because people are going to read it and form their own opinions about you (ok, fine... about me) as a person, a woman, and a lawyer.

I grew up as a total tomboy, with all the neighborhood boys including me in their games of football, soccer, World War II, cowboys and Indians, and kick the can.  As a result, I had the attitude that "whatever boys could do, I could do too (and sometimes better)."  I joined the boys' little league and played first base.  Generally, it went smoothly, with the exception of the first game of my first season when I wore hot pink underwear underneath those see-through white baseball pants.  When I got up to bat and attempted my best imitation of a proper baseball batting stance, sticking my butt as far out as possible, my entire team of boys started pointing and laughing.  Fortunately, my quick-thinking Mom saved the day, loudly proclaiming to the other moms, "We just came from the pool and were in SUCH a hurry that Nicki had to put her baseball uniform on over her swimsuit!!"  (Yikes. Thanks Mom).

This "created equal" attitude lasted me through high school and into college, where I always had a number of guy friends and would jump at any and every opportunity to prove that I was just as good as they were at whatever the sport (ahem, beer pong) might be.  Not only do I love to win, but I always felt I had to prove that being a girl had nothing to do it.

Almost immediately into my legal career, I began meeting women who had struggled with being a female lawyers.  Much like CJ Mullarkey, these women struck me as inspirational frontierswomen, blazing the path for the rest of us and proving that gender had nothing to do with being a good lawyer.  Interestingly, however, these trailblazing women are the same people who tell law clerks that they need to wear pantyhose in the middle of summer if they want to earn the respect of their male counterparts.  These are the women who, despite having proved themselves (and then some) in the legal field, still insist on signing their names with "Attorney at Law" or "Esq." after it, so that male attorneys won't think that they're legal secretaries.  And don't misunderstand this commentary.  I don't blame them in the least!  It's hard to let your guard down when you've been on the defensive for your entire career, needing to prove yourself at every turn.

To a certain extent, these women are probably right to be guarded.  Without a doubt, there are those male attorneys who probably think they're better lawyers and people, just because they're men.  I know that at some point, I will be told that my legal opinion isn't as valuable as a man's... But for once in my life, that doesn't really bother me.  I don't have that driving urge to keep up with the boys and prove that girl lawyers are just as good as boy lawyers.  I don't feel like I'm staring across the beer pong table at two frat boys who think I'm a worthless contender just because I'm a woman.  It's strange, and I can't figure out where that competitive edge went.  Is it me?  Is it the profession? ... or have I just not yet been subjected to the gender inequalities that I know still exist?

Surprisingly, I also find myself more and more envious of women who have decided to raise a family and adjusted their professional lives accordingly.  While in no way should this comment be construed to mean that I am itching to start a family or I am quitting the practice of law,  but I find that I stress about "womanly duties."  I freak out if I don't get to the grocery store or if we run out of oatmeal.  I like to have a clean house.  I like cooking dinner at night.  I like relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine.  All of a sudden, I feel 40... and I'm surprisingly OK with it.  My girl friends from law school are talking about babies and part-time jobs, and suddenly my former judgmental response to that kind of talk (i.e. "Why would ANYONE spend all that time and money to become a lawyer, and then quit to raise a family??  How stupid.") has turned into a response of respect mixed with a little bit of envy ("Wow, raising a family and working from home sounds really nice...Good for those women.").  I don't know if this change in perspective makes me more or less of a feminist...

At this point, I just need to post this.  I started writing this almost a week ago and have sat on it... debating whether or not to even post it.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it's because I'm not positive if this is how I feel generally speaking... but it's definitely how I feel some days.  Then there are nights like last night, where I attended a meeting for the Civic Center Conservancy at the unbelievable home of one of its board members and couldn't stop thinking to myself that the DINK (dual-income-no-kids) lifestyle isn't too shabby after all.  I guess all of this is to say, I have a much more open mind about women lawyers who choose the family path.  Not only is it an open mind, but it's respect... a lot of respect.

So I suppose in summary, I have two thoughts: (1) maybe a traditional female role isn't something to turn my nose up at... and some days, it sounds downright awesome; and (2) boys will be boys, and I don't know when the change happened, but recently, I'm totally ok with girls being girls.

living the dream.

Credit goes out to Andres on this one.  This website is great:  Bitter Lawyer .  I think it gives Above The Law a run for their money (and speaking of money, Bitter Lawyer is posting ads... That means they're making money off ranting about how much it sucks to be a lawyer.  Amazing.).

Before you do anything else, watch the "Typo" video, and for those of you who wonder what it is exactly that I do (Mom...), this video pretty much sums it up.  I don't know if it's because the lead character looks like Ron Livingston or because their due diligence review reminded me of TPS reports, but this short video clip is quite reminiscent of Office Space, minus the "flare," plus "BMWs."  Awesome... just awesome.

Make sure you hit up their "About Us" section.  When I read it, I immediately inhaled sharply and heard a voice in my head say, "It's like they know you..."

Well done Bitter Lawyers, well done.

Lamebook v. Facebook

Thanks to a tip from Above The Law, I stumbled on this little gem:  Lamebook Sues Facebook.  Here is a copy of the Complaint:


Lamebook sues Facebook

I have to say, I am impressed with the gumption of the little guy to go out and hire an attorney.  I can imagine it would be scary to get a barrage of emails from the social media tycoon and its legal servants.  Good for these guys for entering the pre-emptive strike.

I am really interested in the way in which the law will be forced to change to accommodate, not only the internet, but specifically, social media.  Also, as much as I got rocked by the two Bar Exam essays on the First Amendment, I really do find it fascinating.  It will also be very interested to see how the internet shapes future intellectual property law.  My final exam question in my Copyright class was on a website's use of a youtube broadcast of a football game.  It was copyright infringement within copyright infringement (think "case within a case")...  Or maybe it wasn't (which would explain why I got a B in that class).  Anyway, having spent a great deal of time working with both the Copyright Office and the US Patent and Trademark Office over the last couple years, I'm a bit concerned that the system might be too antiquated to deal with the IP legal issues raised by social media.

The long and short of it is social media has changed the way we do everything... including practice law.  I recently heard a story (translation: this is total hearsay) about a civil theft case, where the plaintiff was seeking damages as a result of extreme emotional distress and the claim that she had become a hermit, afraid to leave her house, as a result of the incident.  The defense attorney's legal assistant signed onto Facebook, searched the alleged victim, and pulled up her Facebook page, showing that she had been anything but a hermit since the incident.  Not only had she had been out partying regularly, but she had posted all of the dirty details on Facebook for the whole world (and her opposing attorney to see). Ouch.

I can only imagine how Facebook is changing family law.

Back to the Lamebook/Facebook Complaint for a minute... I hope Lamebook wins on the assertion that their website is merely a parody of Facebook.  I personally find that argument genius (and true).

Notably, I do recognize the issue of reproducing a Complaint on my blog.  And I did ask myself if the Complaint constitutes protected information.  Clearly, I concluded that it did not  :)

hurry up and wait

I've had some hesitation lately in really diving into this book.  I think part of it is my way of doing things: procrastination then determination (I wait until the absolute last minute and then sit at my desk for days on end until it's done).  I know this book isn't going to happen like that, and it's scary, so I put off writing more than the few pages I have.  I think another part of it is this weather... It was 80 degrees yesterday!  In November!  In Colorado!  (Yes, I am blaming the weather for my lack of chapters.  I recognize this is a bit ridiculous).

There is nothing more frustrating than someone making you hurry up and wait.  Therefore, I formally apologize to my audience.

As a token of my appreciation for your patience.  Here is draft one (I repeat, draft ONE) of the Prologue.  Comments, suggestions, criticisms, encouragement, acknowledgments, and any and all other comments are welcomed! 

***

PROLOGUE

“Does it matter?” Grace asked, wiping mustard from her mouth with her napkin, and, in the same movement catching the tear that rolled down her cheek.  She had gotten really good at that over the last few months.  Incorporating “trauma-management,” as she called it, with the mundane parts of everyday life.  Hours earlier she had been on her knees, heaving into the toilet in the office bathroom and resting her cheek on the cool plastic toilet seat as if that were the most natural action in the world.  After catching her breath and checking her watch, she swished with the bottle of mouthwash she kept in her purse, swung by the kitchen to refresh her coffee and returned to her desk in time for her 9:30 conference call with corporate.

“Of course it matters G,” Anna responded.  “I think at this point it’s the only thing that matters.” Anna was that friend, the kind who wouldn’t let Grace get away with a cop-out remark like that, no matter how terrible she was feeling. 

Grace sighed loudly, begging to be convinced.  Anna took the bait.  “You loved Sam.  No one could ever say you didn’t, but you didn’t want to go back.  You didn’t want - ”

“Didn’t want what Anna?  My life back?  Our life back?  How do you know that?  How do you even know if I knew that?”  Grace sputtered, now angry that Anna had suggested lunch in the first place.  She didn’t want to have this conversation again.  She was exhausted, and although she probably knew deep down that her friend was right, she didn’t know how many more times she could hear it.

Grace stood up and quickly gathered her purse, leaving her half-eaten sandwich on the plate.   “I don’t want to be angry about this,” she said.  “Honestly, I’m not even angry.  I just can’t do this right now.”  She turned and walked out of the patio, and, with absolutely no idea what the total was on their tab, handed a fifty dollar bill to the waitress and told her to keep the rest.  Anna made no effort to follow her and instead motioned to the waitress for a box for the other half of Grace’s sandwich.  She would take it over to her house that night when she went to apologize.  It seemed to Anna she had been doing a lot of that lately. 

***

the right to be heard

Yesterday, I had my second criminal hearing ever (Yes, Mom, this time I introduced myself as Nicole).  I don't know if calling it a "hearing;" however, is particularly accurate.  I was more "seen and not heard."

I spent hours prepping for all the what-ifs and talking to friends who do this stuff everyday.  I did yoga breathing in the car to make sure I was calm enough to deliver my argument.  My i's were dotted and my t's were crossed.  My client even showed up on time.  The DA was just enough of a jerk to make me feel like a legitimate lawyer, but not such a jerk that I felt like crying in the bathroom.

Our case was called, a hearing to expunge a juvenile record of a good kid who got his life together and now is in college.  Our magistrate was incredibly nice, and the DA didn't object to our petition for expungement.  The judge asked my client what he was doing with his life nowadays.  When he replied that he was attending college, she asked him what he planned to do with his degree.

His response?  "Go to law school probably.  Change the world."

It took everything I had not to snort on the record.

three totally unrelated articles

...two that make me smile, and one that makes me sad.

Rather than me providing the commentary, I thought I would put the articles out there and open it up to readers for comments.  I recognize that this is a lot like moving to a new city and trying to throw a party.  I'm taking a pretty big risk that no one will show up :)


Inspiring:
Good For This Mom!
This Is Why We Run ...and run and run

Disappointing:
I'm Sure He'll Be "Fein"...but it still sucks.

The funny reality

...not "funny ha-ha."

This article makes my heart hurt a little:  How Obama Saved Capitalism.  Now, I know my Wisconsin readers (you know who you are) are rolling their eyes and patting themselves on the back for their Republican elects, but take two minutes to read the article.  It's short.

One of the worst feelings in the world is "I am doing the best I can, and people think I suck."  It's even worse when you combine that feeling with also knowing that everyone's perception of what you've been doing is totally off-base (translation:  knowing that you're right), and if those people (1) had all the facts, and (2) calmed down enough to look at the situation rationally, they might actually give you some credit.

My Grandma always had a magnet up on her refrigerator that said "Nobody notices what I do until I don't do it."  Obama needs one of those magnets.

Obama did the best he could with what he had.  I know how that goes.

One of my best friends in high school was notorious for being "the stupidest smart kid we knew" (one of those guys who got a full ride to Princeton, but wasn't aware that 4 month old babies could not be left alone to fend for themselves for hours on end).  The summer after our first year away at different colleges, we all got together back home for a big birthday dinner.  We had all had interesting experiences, but most of us came back looking the same... except for me.  I had cut my shoulder length, straight hair into a very short, messy bob (think a brunette version of Meg Ryan from "You've Got Mail" because that's what I liked to tell myself it looked like).  My smart friend and I sat next to each other at dinner, and we were all essentially going around the table sharing (relatively PG-rated versions of) what we had learned during our first year of college.

My friend, in his infinite wisdom, proclaimed, "I realized that I believe all girls should have long, straight hair."

The table fell silent, and all eyes turned to me.  Known for being the one to always put him in his place, the people were expecting a fire storm.  Instead, I sat quietly, letting the awkwardness settle in.  My dear friend finally recognized the silence and realized everyone was looking at me with my short, messy (in retrospect, admittedly, not-so-cute) haircut.  A couple seconds later he realized why, to which he loudly remarked, "Oh, no Nic, not you.  You do the best you can with what you've got."

While it wasn't exactly a compliment for me, I think, in Obama's case, it is.  Or at least it should be.  He had someone else's mess to clean up, and given the circumstances, did a pretty darn good job.

The American public makes me see the worst in myself.  They want it and they want it now.  And right now for them, "It's the Worst It's Ever Been"  (credit:  Liz Wright).  I think, now that the Republicans have won their seats and the nasty, mud-slinging campaigns are over (for now), a little credit where credit is due wouldn't hurt anyone.

Freddy Klaus (claws?)

You know when you have a mind-block about something, and no matter how many mnemonic devices you use, you always hesitate before saying it in case you're really supposed to be saying the other thing?  I have that with the movies Nightmare on Elm Street and Miracle on 34th Street.  They couldn't be more opposite.  I saw Nightmare on Elm Street last night (yes, on Halloween - very cliche, I know.)  Today at work, when asked how my Halloween was, I responded, "Great! We made chili and watched Miracle on Elm Street."  What?!?  I even THOUGHT about it before answering too!

I had never seen the classic Halloween horror film and quickly realized that I didn't actually know the story of Freddy Krueger.  After watching the movie, it became apparent, and kind of ironic, just how polar (yes, pun intended) opposite the two fictional characters are.  Sure, they both show up while you're sleeping... Ok, and I suppose technically they both love children, but that's where it ends.  With Santa, the dreams are those of sugar plum fairies dancing in your head.  With Freddy... well, it's a bit different.  Even I had nightmares.  I never have nightmares.  My mom always used to say that I had African Sleeping Sickness, which I only recently learned is a real disease, but I always thought it meant you could sleep through anything. 

Anyway, I could understand if I had a permanent mind-block about Freddy Krueger and maybe Edward Scissorhands.  Totally understandable.  But Miracle on 34th Street?  "Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" versus "One, two, Freddy's coming for you."  Sometimes I really do amaze myself.