Twofer

One of the biggest changes in my life since having children, besides the obvious, is I don't get to go to the movies as much as I used to. I've always been a movie buff, and in law school, T-Bone and I skipped many a class or study session to catch the latest and greatest flicks playing down the street. Sometimes we saw two in one day! At two different places! That's love, my friends. And probably explains why I didn't graduate anywhere near the top of my class. Ahem.

As you know, tomorrow is The Greatest Night in Television Ever, and in my pre-maternity days, I would have seen all the Best Picture nominees, as well as most of the acting performances. Never been big on the shorts and documentaries, mostly because, until fairly recently, they weren't showing anywhere outside of film festivals and/or LA and NYC.

That said, yesterday I found myself with some free time and a hankering to see a good show, so I headed for the art house right after work. My choices were limited by start times and whether or not I thought T-Bone would be interested, and because I loves me some Meryl, I went with Doubt.

Can I say how much I loved this movie? THAT much, y'all. You can tell it was based on a play and written for the screen by the playwright himself because it's wordy, very play-y. And even though there's not a lot of "action," I was literally leaning into the screen, completely immersed in the story. It was brilliant. My Meryl was brilliant. And - Holy Mother of Mercy - Viola Davis was BRILLIANT. I wasn't familiar with her work before, but I'm a huge fan now. She just broke my heart.

As it happened, I used my frequent flyer card when I bought my ticket, and I guess I hit the right number of points or credits or whatever because a FREE ticket popped out with my receipt. When was the last time you got a FREE movie ticket? For me - never. I took it as a sign. So guess what I did today?

Slumdog Millionaire. Best Picture, indeed. And that Dev Patel is quite the little dancer. Maybe he and Viola can come over for dinner together. But NOT tomorrow night. I need to concentrate.

A Day at The Office

This morning, I literally "got served." By a uniformed constable, packin' heat and all. That's a first for me. Actually, I was just signing for another attorney - he's the one getting sued. Sweet.

Later, as I was passing an office that has a lot of inspirational and religious decor strewn about, I overheard the woman who works in there telling another gal, "I mean, I try to live in a Godly way, and dammit if that little shit doesn't bring me down every time." I nearly shot Diet Coke out of my nose.

After lunch, I noticed a group of young male trainees gathered outside for a dip break. DIP, people. Not a smoke break or a liquid lunch, but nastyass, "minty fresh," will-eat-a-hole-in-your-gums snuff. Standing around scratchin' and spittin', the lot of 'em. Guh-ross.

Next, I got to thinking - if I were an office supply, what would I be?

You Are a Post-it

You have a good memory. You're memory is so good, in fact, that it can be down right annoying at times. You don't mean to nag, but you like to remind people what they're supposed to be doing. You may be a bit of a pest, but you're awfully cute. So no one minds it all too much when you pop up. You would make a good manger, salesperson or attorney. You can cram a lot of info into that head of yours.

What Office Supply Are You?

And then it was 2:15, and I left. The End.

Three Times a Blogger

Well, the rest of my week turned out much better after the Texas Cage Match I had last Wednesday. I had a romantical dinner con mi esposo on Friday, and we had a joint Valentine’s Day/Family Cat’s Birthday celebration on Saturday. Peach and Olive spent their Friday off from school with Mama Turista, tending to the ever-busy Opie, who, have I mentioned, is going to be a big brother in August. My SIL is just getting to the point where she can almost think about food without hurling, so that’s nice.

Sunday was bea-u-ti-ful here in the ATX, so we spent the majority of the day in the front yard, where I repeatedly scratched and punctured myself while trimming the roses, and Peach and Olive "rocked out" as they helped T-Bone detail The Bandit in the driveway. They apparently rocked out SO hard that nobody noticed the interior light was left on – that is, until Monday, when T-Bone tried to leave, in the cold and rain, and the damn battery was dead. Me and my big mus-kulls helped T-Bone push the car up the driveway so we could get my car out for the jumping, and I was left feeling very strong, like crazy strong. I moved a GD car. Uphill. OK, up an incline. But still.

And then yesterday evening, as I stared blankly at my computer, trying to will myself to be creative, I realized it was my 3 year blogiversary. I do so enjoy talking with y'all and hearing about your adventures - I should post more often, I know I should. And I will. Try. I will try.

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!

Heavy Lifting

Today I really had to earn my keep at The Job by going toe-to-toe with a blowhard from East Texas. You know the day's going straight to hell when you're met first thing with a voicemail that says things like, "I just can't imagine how you can find grounds for appeal on this." and "I don't want to have to file for sanctions against you." and, my favorite, "I mean, I'm not threatening you or anything ... but ..." Yes, you are, you asshole. Yes, you are.

When I got him on the phone, it started out pretty calm, and then he lit into me. I could actually feel him puffing up more and more as he ranted. I stuck to my guns and tried to explain my position (which is, basically, following the GD law, by the way), and he just continued to spit and sputter until he finally said, "Why do you even CARE?" You have no idea how much I don't care, dude, but if you're just going to berate and insult me, all bets are off. Especially when you're obviously out of your element on this one - which was clear when you mentioned "sanctions" three more times to try and scare me, and I asked you how that would even be possible when 30 years of statutes and several Supreme Court decisions (which I named) say I WIN, YOU LOSE, and you said, "Well, I really didn't want to get into a LEGAL thing right now." WTeverlovinF are you saying? Aren't "legal things" what you DO?

Overall, I made my points, repeatedly, and only yelled a little bit. By the end of it, when he could see I wasn't budging, and I could see he was finally out of gas, he said, "Well, you've got my number." And hung up on me. Because nothing says confidence in your case more than hanging up on the other side. Perfect.

Silver, Pink, and Purple

Overheard from the backseat after I fetched Olive from school today:

Mommy, I love you more than all my favorite colors.

And what a joy it was to be zooming down the road at 2:15 to get her! Wheee!