Still Pushing

That title sounds vaguely birth-related, but I’m too lazy to fix it. I am not giving birth any time in the next century…the pushing obviously relates to finals. I just finished an 8-hour one, and am about to dive into studying for the next (and last!) but needed to download my brain first.

First: Studying in the park is the totally correct decision during Spring finals, but watch out for little kids who will steal your concentration with their cute frolicking. And also by playing some game that inexplicably required them to yell, “FISHY, FISHY, CROSS MY OCEAN!!” at the top of their lungs every five seconds. (It looked like a variant of Red Rover? Whatever, I don’t know their lives.)

Second: Never leave your bobby pins around that guy who lives with me. This happens:

Are we starting a fraternity? I don’t even know.

Third: Our wonderful friends Ron and Trina are having a baby boy in June, and I ran over to the South End for her baby shower on Sunday. I realized halfway through it was the first one I’d ever attended! Apparently all my other friends have babies when I am inconveniently across the country. Anyway, the mother-to-be looked beautiful surrounded by all her new baby gadgets…

…including the tiny clothes we brought. When I was wrapping the present the night before, M looked over and was like, “Oh, I’d totally wear that.” And…yeah. This is basically his summer wardrobe, shrunken to fit an infant.

Fourth: Boston is beautiful. Still. Despite the fact that I am trapped inside studying. The nerve.

And finally, to herald the soon-to-be ending of this scholastic business, I looked up from hour 7 of my test to see an a capella choir practicing on the roof of the building across from us. Seriously? Seriously. They were actually really good; their “Lean on Me” probably made my FDA analysis far better than it otherwise would have been. What they were doing practicing on a roof, I cannot tell you.

 

School is Out

I’m currently sitting in my last class of law school. Unless the universe has some tricks up its sleeve, it’ll be my last class of any kind. Three finals and one giant paper, and then this place will have receded into the rear-view mirror. It’s hard to be nostalgic while knee-deep in law review citations…but it is a beautiful place, and I’m lucky to have been allowed to improve myself here for the past three years.

 

It’s hard to believe that it was over three years ago that I was sitting in the physical therapy office, getting the best voicemail of my life. Full circle feels so strange.

Planning Ahead

Finals are annoying by themselves, but they’re also a crunch time that makes me think about this whole two-professionals thing we’re going to have happening here pretty soon. When we’re both slogging through the 100+ pages of Con Law we didn’t do during the semester, neither of us is jumping at the opportunity to make dinner or wrestle our laundry down the stairs. We end up ordering a lot of take-out, and the Bar Method studio* sees my awkward sit-ups a lot less. None of this is the biggest deal when it’s only for two weeks. But now that it’s our last cycle through this pattern, I’m looking ahead to our lives after graduation and wondering…is this what it’s going to be like all the time?

There really is something to the whole concept of one partner heading off to earn, and one being in charge of making a home liveable. Taking care of the domestic side of life is a full time job in a serious way. During early parts of the semester, I easily take up entire days doing laundry, making meals, cleaning…if I go to the gym and take the time to make myself attractive, there’s no time to be bored. Plus, I can listen to the Pandora Kimbra station all day and drink Pinot Noir while I make dinner. Best life? I believe so.

But obviously I didn’t go to law school to be a domestic diva. I don’t think it’s a pattern I’d want long-term, and it’s not even on the table for the first few years because of all those lovely loans sitting around. I’m excited about starting work in the fall, about doing my last round of “back to school shopping”….only there’s no more school ever and the new clothes will be pencil skirts and heels for striding down the hallways toward the cappuccino machine. I really can’t wait to be fully adult, to be sipping coffee on the drive to my office every morning, to finally be the professional that I’ve been growing into all these years.*

I guess I’m just nervous that the “professional” life that I’ve been looking forward to for so long will come with the disastrous home life that we’re wading through right now. Not as far as our relationship goes–obviously, we’d rather be going on dates than making outlines, but we’re always pretty happy with each other–but in terms of coming home to a  cluster every night. We’re not fastidious people (if you know me, you are doubled over at the truth of this right now) and I can just picture our sad apartment three weeks into our work lives: clothes piled on the sofa, dishes in the sink, me running around frustrated at 7:15am looking for my other shoe while trying to pack a lunch. I’m sure there is a totally competent way to handle this life, since couples who pursue dual demanding careers are not exactly news. I just have to find a way to put in the long hours at this desk job and still work out and eat the way I need to.

Essentially, we just really need a wife. Currently accepting applications.

*I am very seriously obsessed with this place. It’s like dance class on crack, and you feel like Jello afterwards. (The red kind).

**Why do so many of my work fantasies involve caffeine?***

***Do normal people have work fantasies?

Sixteen Days Til Summer

Dude. Sun-dried tomatoes. That is where it’s at lately. I am pretty convinced they are the Paleo crack, because I cannot stop eating them. Apparently consuming them out of the jar with a fork is frowned upon? I guess having to display normal human eating habits is a small price to pay for living with another (really great) human. I definitely tend toward cat lady eating habits when he’s not around, so it’s pretty excellent when he comes home and brings meals like the above back into my life. Another super-easy paleo breakfast idea for anyone contemplating making the jump (or already there and just a little bored): a scramble of eggs, frozen spinach, kalamata olives and sundried tomatoes. He made this in 10 minutes. I timed him. (Not really).

I guess the sundrieds are just as wonderful in normally prepared and presented food as they are straight out of the jar. Doesn’t mean I’m not sneaking them when he’s in class. Ohhhh, the rebellion.

Weekend Update

M gets home late tonight from yet another jet-setting adventure…this time a conference in Miami. I asked him to (a) say hi to Dexter, and (b) bring me home a Cuban and a mojito. We’ll see in a few hours whether he remembered to fulfill either of those impossible/slightly unsanitary requests.

I decided not to tag along on his South Beach adventure because I still have an epic amount of work to do, but this weekend was actually full of fantastic friend-sightings.

Friday was the opening night for the ballet show, so I went to get my dancers some treats. I am seriously the meanest choreographer ever; it’s never intentional, but I always somehow create these pieces that are one long sequence of getting up and down off the floor. You’re welcome for the free Zumba class? Well anyway, they obviously needed life-threatening amounts of sugar to handle that biz.

I am such a sucker for adorable packaging and interiors, it is not even amusing. I genuinely frequent this establishment solely because it is cute. Their cupcakes are fine (and actually, so was the the guy working there. What a genius addition to a girly cupcake shop, and why don’t more places follow suit?) but I get an aesthetic rush just from being around adorableness. Whatever, there are worse vices.

So then I hid backstage and watched this happen:

Becky’s face in this one just kills me… “Well, hello lover!” And the perfectly pointed toes…yeah, she’s pretty easy to have in a cast. I just loved how sexy and fun and funny the whole piece turned out to be. Love it when things actually go as planned!

Law school “prom” was on Saturday, and after some really interesting cab adventures,(which included hailing one on the street in 4-inch heels after the original guy…I don’t know, forgot where Beacon Hill is?) I got to hang out with this amazing lady:

Alas, a somewhat grainy iPhone capturing of one of the people who has made law school bearable for me. I always feel like we’re “vibing” on the same wavelength… a push to achieve, modulated by a deep-seated desire to just drink wine and watch the Bachelor. Despite being tremendously successful, she just overwhelmingly gets how to live life like a human…I pretty much dig her.

And Sunday was spent at Marliave (oysterssss) celebrating Becky’s birthday…and meeting her ridiculously cute niece. Very seriously, she was the most well-behaved eighteen month old I’ve ever seen. She just chilled in her chair and nodded along vigorously to Alycia’s description of the DSM IV…an extremely normal interest for a toddler, certainly. She was also all about “yellow,” though, so she’s still actin’ her age.

Anyway, maybe didn’t get as much work done as was planned (perhaps the actual story of my life? No need to keep this blog any longer?) but having Blind Pigs and unlabeled awkward white wine with my favorite people is always totally worth it.

 

 

Glad You Like It, I Guess

I’mma be real here for a moment, if I may. Spring in Boston can go on being all cute with its 40 degrees and rain, but when it starts up with the wind, that is where we need to Draw The Line. Wind, other than a light breeze past a summery porch step where you’re drinking a mint julep, is a menace. And it must be stopped.

One time I drew M into a conversation about what kind of personalities different weather conditions probably have.* The consensus? Sunshine is happy (duh), rain is moody (playful one minute and raging the next), and wind is just kind of a biznatch. All up in your grill, needlessly being a life-ruiner with its passive-aggressive stabs: “Oh, you didn’t wear a jacket today?” “I’m not sure I totally love your hair like that.” I’ve looked up the word in the dictionary (b!tch, not wind), and am now informed that it means “one who is shrill and overbearing.” That’s a wind description if I’ve ever heard one.

But I guess it’s not all bad, because crazy wind outside is an excuse to snuggle up inside, make Mudslide cookies (which are vastly improved with the addition of crushed walnuts, by the way) and listen to calm, cuddly music.

(Smash, you’re really going to like this.)

*This is pretty standard fare. Other topics include:”What’s cuter, the cutest puppy or the cutest baby?”

Self-soothing

We’ve been getting commencement emails like crazy lately, including a summons to meet with a financial aid officer. Apparently they want to be there in person as we acknowledge the Monopoly-esque number that leaps into the “now due” column in six months. Sure hope those meetings have tissues. Or cookies. Both would be advisable.

I’m trying to stay the course in terms of not letting this last 20 days stress me out too much. You can do anything for 20 days, right? I mean, maybe not hold a plank position. But the basic idea is a sound one, and whatever…regardless of how it goes, in 20 days it will have gone, you know?

So this morning, after signing up to take the bar and paying our respective $800 fees to do so (WHAT?), M and I escaped outside for a hot second to literally smell the roses and eat lunch in the Common. And yes, he did use the old Otterbox to bump his Ridin Solo Pandora station for all to hear. It was beautiful.

20120410-170726.jpg

20120410-170804.jpg

Lamb Scramble with Sweet Potato Mash

He wouldn't move his hands out of the frame because he was "actually trying to eat this right now." Psh, whatever. Suffer for your (wife's) art, man.

I have to say that converting to a (mostly) paleo lifestyle has drastically improved the quality of the food we eat every day. If someone tried to give me cereal now, I’d politely hand back their soggy bowl of mushy grainy ick and find a safe space to cuddle myself.

Clearly my food photography skills leave something (everything) to be desired, but when we were first switching over to this way of eating, I would always be running up against a creativity wall. (“Eggs again? Surely you jest!”) So when I was really digging this breakfast, I figured it was worth a share, if only to prevent another poor soul from gustatory boredom.

It’s a scramble, which is code for “the easiest thing on the planet.” Dice some red onion, and let it cook down for a few minutes in coconut oil on medium heat. M had made lamb burgers* last night, so he just chopped those up and tossed them on the pan. The secret ingredient to all of this is what I like to call “feta eggs,” so named because they are in fact eggs mixed with feta cheese.** Crack your eggs into a bowl, sprinkle in (a lot of) feta, and then scramble in the pan as usual. Throw some chopped tomatoes on after it’s all said and done because they’re just so beautiful. And then embrace your Armenian roots (even if you just wish  you had them, like me) and squeeze some lemon over the whole thing.
The sweet potato mash is (truly) just mashed sweet potatoes, but we combined cinnamon and red chili pepper as flavor agents, and that was among the better decisions I’ve made lately. So yeah! Super simple, but such a fresh, healthy, delicious start to your morning. Try it and let me know what you think!
*Lamb Burgers:
1lb Grass-fed Ground lamb
Rosemary

1 Egg

Salt and Pepper
-In a large bowl, crack an egg over the ground lamb. Throw in the spices to taste. Mix it all up with your bare hands, and curse the gods for how incredibly cold refrigerated meat is. Seriously.
-Form the mixture into small patties and cook on each side for a few minutes. Throw some feta on top if you want to be awesome. (You do.)
**They might also be crack, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. They are SO. GOOD.

Couch-bound and Crazy

I don’t think I’m going to have any weird food combinations left to obsess over by the time I’m pregnant. Pickles and ice cream? Playa please. It’s clearly all about sweet potato fries and German mustard.

What? You’re cringing, but if you tried it you’d be purring. I think so anyway…I don’t know your life.

I am one hundred percent supposed to be writing a paper for my legal profession class, on the subject of “Problems in Legal Education.” The only such problem I can be articulate about right now is the fact that they consider it a good use of 3L Spring semester time to be writing said paper. What about building my sexy attorney wardrobe? Working on the last tan I’ll ever have?* Coming up with unexpected but dazzling food combinations? You feel me.

*If you said, “and first!” we’re friends. I like your sass.