Sleeping Beauty

A few weeks back the girls and I were talking about princesses.  Its not a subject I particularly enjoy, yet I find its as interesting as anything else we discuss- which cartoons we hate on the Disney Channel- I hate Chuggington,   what we are going to be for Halloween- which amazingly is a year round subject- or naming animals at the zoo- Panda- they always forget Panda.

Talking about princesses is actually naming the princesses- which is the typical course most of our conversations go.  I named Sleeping Beauty and Sadie said, " Sleeping Beauty is not a princess, sleeping beauty is what she is, her name is Aurora."

She's correct.  There is something sobering about being schooled by a 4 1/2 year old on proper use of the english language.

The other day Camille came to me crying.

"Sadie bitted me."

"I didn't bitted you, I bit you!", she replied.

Again dead on.  Had Camille used the proper verb I may have given Sadie a time out- yet since she screwed up the syntax I let the offense slide.

Among the myriad of complaints my ex wife has about me is my lack of a parenting "strategy".

Granted there are those moments I find myself trying to persuade the girls to "just eat one more Mc Nugget", when I realize I am trying to "talk them into" eating a breaded deep fat fried "chicken" piece smothered in ranch dressing - not kale - and it does occur to me I could, perhaps,  do better.

And then those "teaching opportunities" happen to save me.   Sure it hurt it be bitted, but if she wanted her  sister to suffer a consequence get the english right for gods sake- and PLEASE finish your Oreo cookie milk shake there is still plenty of whipped cream on the top...

Bakersfield

Yesterday I had to go to the Workers Compensation Appeals Board in Bakersfield.  My job dictates  I go to many Workers Compensation Appeals Boards in the Southern California area as I am - sadly - a Workers Compensation defense attorney.

I say sadly- as this is not a area of law I ever imagined myself- yet through a series of mitigating circumstances- being a student loan debt of 85k and no job- I did what every self possessed individual in my situation would do- I took the first opportunity presented- and this was it.

Whatever.  I get to work during the day, in doors for the most part. I don't have to wear a polyester blend uniform, a hair net or hat,  and I am not required to do long division- which I have always found to be difficult, I don't have to read music or wear rubber boots.

 I am enormously thankful every single day that no one will  loose a personal freedom related to my "practice" of law.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for my job and actually like it, and although it does make me wince when I really consider my "vocation" as it were, in the end - it is the best fit for me as I really don't enjoy conflict - which does make me question the initial career choice as it is an adversary system.

So I am in Bakersfield and I have a judge who closely resembles Brian Doyal Murry- Bill Murry's less famous less talented brother.

Since describing the issue I was involved would cause the reader to become narcoleptic and this could be potentially dangerous for those of you reading this near a pointed edge I will refrain from explaining - lets just say it is auxiliary to the case which has actually been resolved.

In other words- its stupid.

I'm thinking in and out - easy breezy.  Not so much- as Brian Doyal saw the whole matter very differently.

I knew I was in trouble when one of the two computer screens on the bench - ie desk he is sitting at - has a desk top  photo of him in a Union civil war uniform.  Personally I find the entire concept of reenacting a war to be beyond creepy as - aren't we all in agreement it wasn't a great idea the first time around?  Granted he is on the right side- but still 750,000 americans died fighting each other over slavery-I'm just thinking maybe this isn't something to dwell...

Upon review of our paperwork he threw the first pitch and being the out of towner I was the first batter.

 Question : "What does Labor Code Section 5624 subsection c say?"
Answer: " I have no idea."
Question; " You don't know the Labor Code?"
Answer: " No, actually I don't."

A swing and a miss.

If there was a Workers Compensation jail,  I would have been sent.

Guilty confession, I don't know my phone number, of course I don't know the Labor Code.

Objectively, there is no possible way with everything I have jammed in my head- I am trying to keep 5 year old twins ALIVE- - don't let them play with venomous snakes, keep them off the train tracks at night, if smoking in the room they are in open a window- the list in really endless...

It was at this point I decided to stop talking.  This is my go to - when all else fails go mute.

Frequently, I find being completely silent be the best strategy as people will find a need to fill the space, because the truth is - he didn't really want to hear what I had to say- he wanted to hear himself ask the questions.

Question: " So you don't know the Labor Code section I am referring?"
Answer:
Answer:
Answer:
Answer:
Answer:
Question: "Ok, moving on..."

Its actually crazy how it ALWAYS works.

He was merely ego tripping - in that way a civil war reenactor,  Bakersfield workers compensation judge -Brain Doyal Murry look a alike- is tempted to do on a Tuesday afternoon- just because he can...and honestly who can blame him?

Klutz IV

The females on the maternal side of my family have issues with balance.

Last year my 80 year old great aunt fell on her face and knocked out a front tooth, the ironic part, she was walking into the dentist office.

Sure my aunt is elderly , but the harsh reality is age is simply not a factor, my mother has been falling since her early 30's.

Its been suggested there is some issue with the inner ear, or the center of balance, or in my mothers case a failure to wear appropriate footwear.

My personal policy in terms of shoes is relatively strict. I own nothing with a heel or pointed toe. I have one pair of sandles, which is really an insult to sandels as they basically cover my enter foot, I wear these only when the tempature is well over 100.

So it terms of good traction I have that covered. Yet I share my mother's DNA and thus I too have had my share of ankle and foot related mishaps. As a result I have broken every toe on both feet except for my big toes.  Yet my self inflicted injuries are not just limited to the lower extremities.

Admittedly I fall, yet my main issue is I tend to slam my feet into both living and inadimate objects, thus I avoid being barefooted.  Recently I fractured my little toe at my office while I was walking around barefoot, which certainly did not comply with  the dress code.  I slammed it right into the side of a credenza.  I didn't report the injury, although it hurt me for a good four months.

Stupid is not a legal defense to a comp injury, nor is clumsy, yet in spite of this knowledge I felt it best to suffer in silence.

A few days ago while walking across the grass I watched Camille literally fall over her own feet, and this was not the first time.  At 3 1/2 her ambulatory skills are reasonably good, thus, although no biological relation to me it appears as though my daughter is a 4th generation klutz.

I was bothered by it when I began to contemplate the fact she would endure of lifetime of constant bruises just above the elbow, as I have,  as a result of being struck in the back of the arm by a door or gate.  Yet on further reflection, perhaps of all my glaring flaws and inadequacies this particular foible may be the least of all evils.

Still the other day I hit myself in the nose with the dryer door (don't ask me I struggle to understand how THAT happened) and it hurt so bad I couldn't talk for five minutes.

Camille cries when her sister tells her she's a boy, so her true threshold for pain is yet to be determined. I haven't told her about the legacy, I'm not sure she would understand.

On the other hand Sadie is completely clued in.

"Camille falls like Mommy," she said a few weeks back.  At the time I was still recovering from a nasty slip and fall incident which happened on the front porch steps after I had hosed down the area.

For now Camille continues to live with the hope she will outgrow her inability to walk on an uneven surface, yet I know to that which she is heir.

Retirement Sheshtirement

At some point I have to stop using the lottery as my retirement plan. I know you can't win if you don't play, yet I think if you do play or if you don't play you still have the same statistical chance of winning- however, I keep playing as when I do win-and I have the probability if getting hit by lightening TWICE in the same day as winning- I will at that moment be retired. Honestly, this is my only real chance of actually reaching retirement.

When I first began my carreer there was an old woman attorney I saw almost every morning crossing the street by the court house, pulling her cart of files in her sensiable shoes, and it was then I decided I would never be that old woman attorney- pulling my two wheeled cart so as to not injure my fragile spine.

Bottom line-I'm not only going to be that old woman attorney I am about 5 minutes from it. I have the cart- sensiable shoes - I'm getting the gray hair, slumped posture- granted I have not incorporated polester into my wardrobe as of yet- however, I do anticipate a day in which an elastic wastband will be needed.

In any event, I took a major hit in everything I thought had monetary value in my life, worthless properties - a 100k- I lost in the market. I'm driving a car that was great 6 years ago when I leased it- now I'm one of those people driving a really great old car- meaning - about 6 years ago I had money and today- not so much.

Granted I've had my share of money sucks. The only good part of all of this is there is no real arguement about assets in my pending divorce which I have yet to totally deal with. I had hoped Rick Santorum would become President and make all "gay" marriages illegal so I wouldn't have to bother.

I know - essentially wishing for the complete demise of American democracy for a short cut to divorce is relatively selfish- that coupled with the fact I am relatively President Rick wouldn't stop at making Gay marriage illegal- I'm thinking actually "being" Gay could become a felony- so I might be looking at prison time- still....I haven't completely given up on the idea.

Besides, prison might not be all that bad- an opportunity to catch up on reading, work out every day, and possibly learn automotive repair. Given the condition of my life at this point -it may actually be an improvement.

Last week a young attorney in my office told me she her and her boyfriend were celebrating their one year anniversary.

Although I thought better of it I couldn't resist putting my two cents in.

" Are his parents dead?", I asked.

"He''s the youngest, they are elderly," she replied.

"Well, wait until they are dead if you have to get married. Its tough enough dealing with another person, if you can elimate in laws you are that much better off."

Boring

I don't like to blog about television because I think it makes me seem uninteresting.

Granted, I do find myself boring up to seven times a day, however, having recently read the "travel blog" of a friend of a friend, it occurred to me in the phylum of boring there are a variety of species.

There is the Exaggerator, this is the boring person who is aware of this short coming and makes up for it with elaborate stories, which this person believes will make them seem more interesting yet only serves to create a situation in which the person is not only boring, but pathetically boring. However, I do find, of all the boring, this boring the most interesting.

I sincerely enjoy the effort, and if stuck on a desert island with a boring, this one would be my choice.

The Self Absorbed boring is my least favorite. It is this boing who steers each and every conversation back to themselves. This boring is unable to take social cues, such as when the listener to this person lapses into a coma during the course of the "conversation". You know you are with this particular individual quickly as you will find yourself filled with the irresistible urge to pull off your own head and throw it.

I'm an attorney, I meet a ton of this boring. This boring loves to post frequently on facebook, and write blogs.

Then there is the "Just" boring, not offensive, not amusing or clever, just boring. I personally find this boring talks a lot about television, which is essentially another persons thoughts, ideas and words. Thus with recognition I may be in a hybrid-boring situation- I am blogging (self absorbed) about television (just boring), after an entire year of not blogging I have decided to write about something I saw on television.

The Hutterites are a small religious colony in rural Montana who holds desperately to their sacred traditions while fighting the modern temptations of the outside world. The community they reside, King Colony, is made up of 59 people and they are almost all related. On the Natgeo channel there program which follows this group.

These people are so boring they are interesting. This boring category, the So Boring You Are Interesting, is really limited to these types of groups, the Amish, the Mennonites. In truth you have to be born into this very specialized category of boring. So there's that.

Tonight I find myself watching this show, although I had a tough time getting my head around the fact that I'm viewing a "reality show" about these people who are attempting to have a relatively primitive existence, and how the fact they are on any television show seems to be counter indicated in terms of the ultimate goal of their entire tribe, I was able to sit through about 20 minutes.

It makes sense these folks are all related as every one looks exactly the same.

One of the boys, who appeared to be around the age of 16 was having a discussion with his mother about the fact he was dating a non Hutterite girl.

The conversation went something like this;

Mom: I don't know why you are dating her you know you can't marry her.
Son: I know, who says I am serious about her.
Mom: Ok, get a twenty out of my purse, but no hanky panky. You know I will shun and disown you.
Son: I know.
Mom: Have fun.

Within the course of seconds the mother tells her son she will disown him, but still have fun. My question, how do these two concepts, presented so close together, not negate the later?

Is it possible to have a good time when you know if you really want to have a good time the consequence is your becoming an your an orphan?

Letter to my 16 yr old self

First and foremost don't be afraid.

In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, you are not alone- not even close. The first gay bar you go into the women will seem menacing and fatally unattractive, which is really an insult to unattractive people, just know its not all like that...

The best job you will ever have will be working in the library at law school. Try to enjoy it more.

Along that same line, don't date from 1989-1992, its three years, believe me - skip it.

You will have the opportunity to go to Paris in 1989 and to Veracruz in 2003, don't take either trip- its not what you think its going to be and it will just piss you off.

When you are somewhere and there are obnoxious children give the parents the benefit of the doubt, most likely they are both motified and exhausted.

Don't fight with either one of your Grandmothers.

Its good to keep it at around 4 pets in TOTAL.

Try to not be petty, especially with your family and friends.

At different times you will have a BMW a Mercedes and a Range Rover, and it is really very cool, and although money is isn't the end all, it beats the shit of not having money, yet you'll find the best part about having a great car will be loaning it to your dad drive it.

Buy stock in a company called Microsoft...

Some amazing things are going to happen to you later in life, and you will eventually feel close to whole. Marry only for love.

Take more pictures of your self in bathing suits.

Tell Joe not to kill himself. I'm not sure it will matter, but at least you will know you did it and it wont haunt you later on. Trust your instincts.

Every woman is a few margaritas away from lesbianism. Eventually you will discover this and use it to your advantage, just letting you know...

The hardest thing you will ever do is not be true to who you are, don't be so hard on yourself-

And you will never pick a winner of the Kentucky Derby, just accept it.

The good thing about feeling bad

I've dated a few chubby girls. Guilty confession, during a few heated arguments I thought to myself, shut up Porky, yet I never actually said it.

Here's the thing, never - ever tell a woman she looks fat, even if you really hate her. Weight has been a major issue in the lives of most of the woman I've dated. I might think it- yet would never, and at this point I do mean never, say it.

I seems too mean.

For whatever reason being chubby doesn't bother me, and I don't really care if someone calls me fat, yet what I lack in sensitivity about my weight I make up for in my sensitively about my clothes.

Gioconda does this thing, typically in the morning if she sees me before I leave, she raises her eyebrows, moves her head to the right to look at me from the side, takes a deep disapproving breath, and smiles without showing her teeth.

She gives me the "look" and I know but I always say, "what?"

"Are you leaving in that?"

Today it was my shirt. My criteria for clothes these days is, fits, no obvious staining or holes, and clean.

I worked in my office all day so I really didn't care. Things have been sort of difficult in every way for me lately, so in light of the rest of my problems her assessment of my wardrobe didn't even blip my radar.

Don't get me wrong, when I'm going to court it really works my head.

I have accidentally gained back all the weight I accidentally lost so now the pants that were swimming on me last year, are sausage casing this year. The up side, no one asks me if I have cancer.

Most days I look in the mirror and think I look like Chaz Bono which is not the look I'm going for ever...so I begin the day with a significant degree of insecurity about my appearance.

The one good thing about feeling really shitty is once you are at a certain level nothing piled on matters.

Today getting the "look" was water off my back.

It's a hard thing for me, finding clothes I am both comfortable and confident.

I have often thought I should have chosen a vocation with a uniform. Not like the Hot Dog on a Stick uniform, something cool- like a UPS driver, a golfer or surgeon.

My vocation would work for me if I lived in England, the barristers wear black robes, and those funny wigs.

What I want to wear, and what I have to wear are in direct conflict with each other, so its something Im sensitive about.

Yet today it just didn't matter...the one good thing about feeling really bad, you can only go as low as the floor.