Just returned from a pajama-clad run to my neighborhood Starbucks . . .

and I'm full of philosophical thoughts. Maybe it's because for the first time in days, I have almost a sufficient amount of sleep under my belt, but not quite enough, so it is as if I am in a dreamlike state of awakeness. (What?!?!?)

Anyway, I was thinking as I drove to Starbucks about how much I love taking pictures and how sad I am that I have been too busy at work this month to complete my photoblog entries with the photos from my Christmas trip to Paris. When I take pictures, I try to capture something real in a creative and beautiful and/or different way. There is something about that process that feeds my soul in a way that even the most creative of legal arguments cannot do. I am at my happiest when the creative, observing, interacting and people-loving aspects of me all intersect in taking photographs while exploring a new place, whether it is a different location, neighborhood, state or country.

So, here are a few new photos to tide you (and me) over until I can finish the photoblog entries about my trip:







And on a non-creative, but equally heartfelt note, I saw this Robert F. Kennedy quote on Digby tonight and want to share it with you:

For the fortunate among us, there is the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who enjoy the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. Like it or not, we live in times of danger and uncertainty. But they are also more open to the creative energy of men than any other time in history. All of us will ultimately be judged and as the years pass we will surely judge ourselves, on the effort we have contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which our ideals and goals have shaped that effort.

The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of new ideas and bold projects. Rather it will belong to those who can blend vision, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the ideals and great enterprises of American Society.

Our future may lie beyond our vision, but it is not completely beyond our control. It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live.

I instinctively knew

that I would find something funny and reassuringly true at Overheard in New York tonight, when I find myself much in need of a laugh and reassurance. And I did:

A NSA Tattoo Works Wonders

Guy #1: So I had ex sex last night.
Guy #2: How was it?
Guy #1: Amazing as always, but now I'm fucked cause she's gonna start calling me again.
Guy #2: Imagine that, you sleep with someone and then they call you...Crazy.

--1 train

Back to drafting the dreaded brief . . .

Murphy's Law Strikes Again

Nearing the end of an exhausting week of work, I decided to pop out of work a bit early on Friday to see a movie, with the plan being that I would then work all day Saturday and Sunday after having enjoyed myself a bit. I did enjoy the movie, and was looking forward to a relaxing Friday night.



In the tradition of Murphy's law, here is what happened instead:

(1) the valet lost my car keys (yes, in Dallas, one may valet park at a movie--I did this for the first time ever because I was so late in getting away from work that I didn't have time to park before the movie);

(2) my car keys resurfaced when another valet pulled up in the car, demonstrating that the valet searching for keys with me lied when he assured me that he had looked and confirmed that the car was still where he parked it;

(3) the security guard for some reason became suspicious that I was not actually the owner of my piece-of-crap Volvo filled with junk, but instead was someone who preferred it to the nearby BMWs and Mercedes and was trying to steal it, which resulted in an additional delay while I vouched that, yes, this is my 3 day old Starbucks cup in the cup holder;

(4) I realized I needed to return to work to take care of one more thing, but was foiled when the security guard in our building disappeared, resulting in a wait of approximately 20 minutes until a tenant happened to come by and let me in the building so I could get the cell phone number of the security guard (which, strangely, is only available to those already in the building); and

(5) I arrived home later, toting the now-cold dinner I picked up as I left the movie theater, only to find that my dogs had somehow pulled out the tall kitchen "drawer" that contains a tall kitchen trash can and pulled the entire full garbage bag out, devouring its contents and leaving lots and lots of remaining tidbits all over the kitchen floor.

How to waste time and have fun while doing it

Via Kottke, I found this fun game called fastr. It involves guessing the tag that a group of flickr pictures has in common and is played against several other players at any given time, for points!

In other time-wasting news, I finally discovered this Sodoku thing that everyone is so crazy about--it's even more fun than a Rubik's cube! Yes, the evil Southwest Airlines (which isn't really evil--I think they're great) included 4 puzzles in their in-flight magazine. During the 4 segments I flew this week, I was able to complete almost all of the puzzles, which made me quite proud. But now I'm hooked! If you enjoy this as much as I do, here is a place where you can find free puzzles. Please be warned: THIS IS A HIGHLY ADDICTIVE ACTIVITY AND YOU UNDERTAKE IT AT YOUR OWN RISK.

In the event you were worried

about whether I would find helpful amenities in my hotel room in Oklahoma City, please allow me to put those fears to rest:



Yep, that's a stuffed buffalo and beef jerkey treat, available for purchase!

Baseball and Bill Murray . . . two of my loves

The author of the Feed Me Good Tunes blog has come up with a wonderful post: fielding a baseball team made up entirely of characters played by Bill Murray. Two of my favorites among his picks:

6, Bob Harris, 3B, Lost in Translation
He's publicly suave but privately struggling, old, listless, spiritually unsatisfied. Occasionally finds success with the bat, but mostly in the team for lack of anyone else to use. Mike Lowell's new best friend in a baseball uniform.

Starting Rotation

Bob Wiley, What about Bob?
Throw out the textbook, Peter Gammons. One look at this wackadoo and you'd think of Therapy Tim Worrell. However, look past his infuriating persistency and bullish blend of narcissism and manipulation and you'll find an excellent pitcher: part-Hideo Nomo, part-Mark Prior, part-Denver the last Dinosaur, Bob will paint the corners with his screwball and change-ups that'll have you sprinting for the hills.

By the way, I just watched "Lost in Translation" again (it's been a veritable movie fest at my house, with the DVD player coming back to life and all):



If you haven't seen it, you must. It is a wonderful movie, capturing the feeling of disconnectedness while traveling in an uncannily accurate way.

For the next two days, I will be visiting this fine corner of America:



Jealous? I know you are. I see all the hot spots!

Chicken wings and where they lead you.

Today I went to this fine metropolis, El Paso, Texas:



This is actually a highly romanticized image of the city, which I found on the internet. The place actually looks like this photo, which I also found on the internet:



Isn't that a lot of brown for one city?

I went there for business, not for chicken wings, and had a very pleasant and productive day despite the fact that I was in a town that looks like Santa Fe after it had its beauty surgically removed. El Paso also happens to be the site of one of the most spectacularly disappointing dates I have ever had, but that is a story for another day.

For some reason, I heard people mention hot wings many times today, enough times that I started to really want to eat hot wings for dinner. I have been trying to limit the amount of meat in my diet and, thus, don't eat wings very often. But boy, did they sound good by the time I arrived home this evening, famished from trying my very first-ever Sodokhu puzzle on the plane. I thought I knew of a wing place that was on the way home, but when I got there, I found only this:



Yes, it's a "Cowboy Chicken." Upon investigation (meaning that I asked the guy at the counter a question), I determined that this place once was the wing place about which I had fond memories. But, surprisingly, they no longer offer hot wings. Does that seem odd to you, for a place that specializes in chicken to not offer hot wings, which are one of the best-known chicken dishes? It seemed odd to me, too.

But I was there, and I was too tired to continue my search for wings. So I ordered a barbeque chicken sandwich, which seemed like it would be similar but really wasn't. While I basked in the warmth of the rotisserie spit (which is located close to a tall wooden bar where one can eat, or read the newspaper while one waits to eat--I did the later), I noticed something else about this place: only men eat there. I was the lone female in the entire place, among approximately 10 other customers, except for one other woman, who was there with a guy. So, if you're a single girl in Dallas and don't know where to meet men, may I suggest Cowboy Chicken on Greenville Avenue. The sheer novelty of being the lone chick in the place (no pun intended) will draw more attention to you than any Greenville Avenue bar. And that's my service deed for the day . . . .

UPDATE: Lest you think I'm imagining this wing thing, LOOK, here's ANOTHER wing reference!

What a nice diverse group of readers I have!

My last 20 (unique) visits were from:

Waco, Texas
The Netherlands
Irving, Texas
Newark, New Jersey
Nottingham, England
Ucon, Idaho
Chicago, Illinois
Los Angeles, California
Des Moines, Iowa
Smyrna, Georgia
Elmhurst, Illinois
Madrid, Spain
York Mills, Ontario
Arlington Heights, Illinois
Avignon, France
Addison, Illinois
Calgary, Alberta
Harrison, Arkansas
Dodge City, Kansas
Virginia Beach, Virginia

Thanks for your visits, and your support!

Sorry about the dearth of posts . . .

I have been on the mend from my second (at least I think it's the second--I've lost track) illness of this oh-so-young year. And, I have also been busy, busy, busy at work! This weekend, I have been immersed in the delightful experience of writing a brief, which makes me look like this:



But I took a break last night to see this masterpiece of a movie with some friends:



If you haven't seen it yet, please do! Scenes like this one (pictured below) are comic genius, and will provide you with a nice break from the earnest and excellent movies like Brokeback Mountain, Capote and Good Night, and Good Luck (which you really should see if you haven't already):



As if that wasn't enough excitement for a single weekend, I engaged in another favorite activity this morning: bringing my home back into a condition considered habitable by humans (and dogs). Now it's so tidy (at least the part not behind closet and cabinet doors) that I want to celebrate by watching movies all day instead of drafting this brief. To make matters worse, I was successful in my effort to fix my brand-new, not working for indeterminate reasons, DVD player. So now, "Must Love Dogs" is tempting me.

Surely I can draft and watch at the same time, right?

UPDATE: Yes . . . yes, I can! Especially when this movie features the two actors who are probably my top two "wouldn't have to think before saying yes" kind of guys: John Cusack and Dermot Mulroney.

UPDATE II: In light of the revival of my DVD player, I watched that Season 2 of Northern Exposure that has been taunting me from its wrapping for weeks. That series, which had its debut in 1990, was truly cutting edge . . . I had forgotten to what extent. For instance, I just watched an episode in which Maurice, the founder of the town, struggled with his feelings of homophobia upon realizing that he was about to sell a property to a gay couple looking to open a bed and breakfast. He is most disturbed by the number of things he has in common with the pair, fearing it calls into question his own sexuality. Ultimately, he is won over by the men's willingness to pay a premium price for the property, and agrees to complete the sale. This was pretty groundbreaking stuff for 1991, and is very cleverly written.

It wasn't all a vale of tears yesterday.

The drive down to my college campus, which is 2 1/2 hours away, went by pretty quickly. Perhaps it is a sign of one's advancing age when a road trip feels like the height of relaxation and adventure. Here are some of the odd, amusing and/or interesting things I encountered on the road:

(1) A radio station whose tag line is, "music and ministry you can trust." I haven't run into any duplicitous music before . . . and if a ministry has to remind me it can be trusted, I'm not so sure it's a ministry in which I want to partake.

(2) I learned that Martha Stewart has a television show that plays over the radio waves, with guests and everything. Her invited guest yesterday struck me as an odd choice for that show: Susan Sarandon, whom I view as just a tad bit more liberal and free-spirited than the irrepressible Martha Stewart. But there was magic on the air waves, as Martha and Susan worked on some craft project involving plates. Susan was moved to reminisce about how she and her kids once did a project with "plastic plates and magic markers," a memory Martha met with stony silence. Trying to loosen things up a bit, Susan commented that their joint project appeared to be a meeting of two type A's and asked Martha if she was the oldest child in her family. Martha didn't quite catch the baton, as she answered, "No, the second child, who mothered all the others. You really must concentrate on this or it isn't going to work." And I'm not sure Susan said another word after that.

(3) There is a place along the way called, "Weber's Shooting Sports." Only in Texas is shooting a "sport."

Other pleasurable moments:

Stopping on the way home to pick up excellent "hots" at this fabulous kolache place:



Hearing the cheesiest of cheesy country songs, "Mr. Mom," which never fails to make me feel "dancy":

Artist/Band: Lonestar
Lyrics for Song: Mr. Mom
Lyrics for Album: Let's Be Us Again

(Richie McDonald/Ron Harbin/Don Pfrimmer)

Lost my job, came home mad
Got a hug and kiss and that's too bad
She said I can go to work until you find another job
I thought I like the sound of that
Watch TV and take long naps
Go from a hand working dad to being Mr. Mom

Well
Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the fifteenth time
Breakfast, six naps at nine
There's bubble gum in the baby's hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday
Mr. Mom

Football, soccer and ballet
Squeeze in Scouts and PTA
And there's that shopping list she left
That's seven pages long
How much smoke can one stove make
The kids won't eat my charcoal cake
It's more than any maid can take
Being Mr. Mom

Well
Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the sixteenth time
Breakfast, six naps at nine
There's bubble gum in the baby's hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday
Mr.Mom

Before I fall in bed tonight
If the dog didn't eat the classifieds
I'm gonna look just one more time

'Cause
Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the eighteenth time
Breakfast, six naps at nine
There's bubble gum in the baby's hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long
Oh been crazy all day long and it's only Monday
Mr.Mom

Balancin' checkbooks, juggling bills
Thought there was nothing to it
Baby, now I know how you feel
What I don't know is how you do it


*****************************************

Just a taste of Central Texas for ya!

Time travel, and an ode to a favorite professor.

Have you ever had one of those days when you are hurtled back in time so rapidly that, before you know it, you have completely re-inhabited one of your earlier selves? That's how I felt today when I set foot on my college campus to attend a memorial service for my most influential college professor.

I know the precise moment when "college Lisa" took the place of "lawyer Lisa." I was talking to a colleague/friend on my cell phone as I drove onto campus; I was still talking to her as I emerged from my car to begin the walk to the chapel. But then an elderly couple approached and asked me how to get to the chapel, and I heard what seemed (to my ears, anyway) like a much younger version of my voice answer, "Over there, Ma'am, but I'll show you the way, as I'm headed there, too." I briefly told my colleague that I would talk to her tomorrow, but I had already gone back in time about 18 years at that point.

Essy explained as we walked with her husband to the chapel that they had known my professor for about 40 years, having first met him in a Sunday school class at their church. My professor remained a bachelor until he was about 50 years old, and apparently one of Essy's great joys in life until that time was to try to fix him up on dates with various eligible ladies. She said my professor put a stop to that practice after she offered to set him up with a friend of hers who had “decided not to become a nun after all,” saying that he would assume responsibility for his own social life, thank you very much. It was shortly after that when my professor met Dottie, who became his wife for the next 31 years.

The relatively plain, narrow and high-ceilinged campus chapel held a multitude of alumni, faculty and community members. Our common bond was the love and friendship of a man who taught psychology and so much more. The sun's rays reached through the chapel windows and bent the rich primary colors of the stained glass into a beautiful border of color on the white wall surrounding each window frame. One of the first things one learned upon meeting my professor was the depth of love he bore for his wife and three children. So it felt right to learn from one of the speakers that my professor's children have grown up to be a psychologist and a writer and a teacher . . . which were three of the things he did best. His son's poem about the professor's use of words in his relationships with all of us, and the pleasure Ted found in writing with his father in the last stage of his life, was just right in so many ways.

Another eulogy was moving as well . . . my professor’s best friend (the retired registrar of the college) asked the college President to deliver his words because he was too grief-stricken to say them himself. I loved his words because they were simple and brought back fond memories of our friend instead of trying to teach us something with quotes from people who didn't know him. Some of the tidbits that rang truest about my professor included his lifelong love of the Detroit Tigers, borne of his first four years of life in Detroit, and his habit of taking a British tea daily, borne of his childhood and teenage years after his Welsh parents were forced to return to England. The story of how my professor celebrated the end of World War II (which he saw from the vantage point offered by the British Royal Navy) by attending a symphony performance was new to me, but sounded just like him. We heard of the twists and turns that ultimately brought my professor to a small liberal arts college in Central Texas, where he taught for 43 years, 25 years of which he spent chairing the psychology department.

It was at that college, in that psychology department, that I met my professor. He was my faculty advisor, presided over an uncountable number of my psychology courses (it was my major) and coordinated the two summer internships in which I participated. But more than that: he was my mentor, my quiet cheerleader and my friend. I realize now that my professor was more formally-educated and well-traveled, but otherwise very similar to my own gentle and encouraging father (though the professor would never have let you know he was either well-educated or worldly in experience). He wasn’t that kind of man; he was the kind of man who listened both quietly and intensely, who never made any person feel uneducated or naïve or belittled, who fostered a sense of self-confidence in you so subtly that you only realized later that he made you feel as if you had limitless possibilities. I believe he was one of the first persons, if not the very first person, with whom I shared my LSAT score; he managed to look extremely proud and pleased without seeming a bit surprised at how well I had done. In addition to moral support, he taught me how to listen, both in class and out of it, a skill that has made me a much better friend and lawyer. There are many life questions I have now with which I think my professor could have helped me, though he would have just viewed it as talking things over . . . questions about work and love and faith and politics (not necessarily in that order). I think he would have enjoyed trading baseball stories and talking about my newfound love of opera together if I had done a better job of keeping in touch with him in recent years.

All of these memories and thoughts and feelings came rushing at me today as I sat on the red velvet cushion of my chapel pew, focusing on the bright colors surrounding the stained glass windows while I tried to stem the flow of my tears. Some were tears of grief, for the lost opportunity to exchange thoughts with and say goodbye to my professor. I spoke with him a few times in the years since graduation, but not recently. Strangely, I had found myself thinking of my professor a number of times in the days before he died although I did not know he was in seriously ill health or near the end of his life. Others were tears of memory and gratitude and honor. Today I was reminded of the person I was when I knew my professor best, and of the person whom he believed I was and that I could be. Maybe that memory was the cause of at least a few of my tears.

Thank you, my professor, for all that you were and all that you saw in me.

Eloquent Words About An Eloquent Man's Premature Passing

The words of Bobby Kennedy on April 4, 1968, from this site:

Ladies and Gentlemen: I'm only going to talk to you just for a minute or so this evening, because I have some very sad news for all of you -- Could you lower those signs, please? -- I have some very sad news for all of you, and, I think, sad news for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world; and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis, Tennessee.

Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause of that effort. In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it's perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black -- considering the evidence evidently is that there were white people who were responsible -- you can be filled with bitterness, and with hatred, and a desire for revenge.

We can move in that direction as a country, in greater polarization -- black people amongst blacks, and white amongst whites, filled with hatred toward one another. Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand, and to comprehend, and replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand, compassion and love.

For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and mistrust of the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I would only say that I can also feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man.

But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to get beyond, or go beyond these rather difficult times.

My favorite poem, my favorite poet was Aeschylus. And he once wrote:

"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart,
until, in our own despair,
against our will,
comes wisdom
through the awful grace of God."

What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.

So I ask you tonight to return home, to say a prayer for the family of Martin Luther King -- yeah, it's true -- but more importantly to say a prayer for our own country, which all of us love -- a prayer for understanding and that compassion of which I spoke.

We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times. We've had difficult times in the past. And we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; and it's not the end of disorder.

But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings that abide in our land.

Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people.

Thank you very much.

Finally . . . another Paris post!

Found here, and including photos like this one:



This post is about Christmas Day in Paris!

Not dead yet . . .

but feeling like the next best thing. Yes, I'm sick. Temperature of 99.5 degrees (though I was sure it would be 199.5 and took it three times to be sure), coughing, sneezing, achy muscles. Ugh. More when I rejoin the world of the living.

Delurk, I Command Thou.

According to some other folks on this world wide web of ours, it is Delurking Week. Which means one who typically peruses this blog without commenting, even if only to think,"Wow, at least I'm not as messed up/boring/unorganized/as big a procrastinator as her," should break that trend, even if for only a day, and post a tiny little comment below.

Just do it! You'll like it!

Life is never quite what one expects.

I spent my day in the very small town referenced in this post below. The first part of the day was pretty much an average business day for me, except that I was able to spend it with a dear friend who is also a client, making it an above average kind of day. But just as we were preparing to head back to the big city, our manager contact in the small town learned that his employee has been involved in a serious head-on collision while driving a company truck.

The manager is a tough man who has spent a lifetime in a tough business, in a part of Texas that isn't exactly fluffy. That only made the seriousness of the situation even more clear as he had to visibly gather up his courage before heading out to the site of the crash. We went out there as well to provide any help we could. What felt like a bit of an adventure as we made our way out there became something very different as we walked toward the scene.

There were onlookers aplenty, even on this near-deserted country road. And the local paper was there, photographing the helicopter that took one of the injured parties to a hospital. But my stomach felt as if it has been punched when I saw the twisted metal of the two large trucks that collided, hitting each other so hard that the one with the long trailer attached spun 180 degrees, as if it was heading back in the direction from which it initially came. Thankfully, our client's employee, who was in that truck, is going to be fine, after his broken bones heal. Unfortunately, the guy in the other vehicle is around 25 years old and his wife is expecting their first child in a few weeks; the last report we heard was that he remains in an intensive care unit.

There is a humanity in that kind of moment that reminds you of how petty the everyday disputes are--even including the matter on which we were working today. Everyone at the scene was conducting their job professionally, but there was a sobriety about their manner that seemed to indicate that everyone was thinking something to the effect of, "There but for the grace of God go I," or whatever that saying is.

As I watched the journalist talk to the players, and his photographer record the visual details of the scene, I thought about whether I am cut out for that kind of work, as it is something I have seriously considered as an alternative to the law. I thought the answer to that question was no while I was in the throes of my visceral reaction to the smashed trucks. Covering stories like that, or worse, must be too depressing over time, I reasoned. But by the time we left the scene, I realized there isn't much that would make a person appreciate being alive more than being a part of that kind of scene on a regular basis, and that if one was able to write about it in such a way as to make others who were not there take a moment to appreciate the freshly bloomed flowers of life, that might be something worth doing.

It's something to ponder.

One of my favorite things.

No, it's not this guy:



(photo courtesy of VOA News)

It is National Public Radio's live broadcast of the U.S. Supreme Court justice confirmation hearings. I would love it more if The Shrub wasn't appointing those being quizzed, but it still makes for fascinating listening. I find the two general categories of questions equally entertaining: (a) the well thought out question posed by a person who clearly understands the legal system; and (b) the bizarrely uninformed question, like that from the Senator (I never caught his name) who seems to think that every case before an appellate court has previously been the subject of a trial, when many appellate cases involve the dismissal of claims without any trial. The "softball" statements prepared by Karl Rove and/or those like him are fun, too: these statements posing as questions simplify Alito's position on matters to a stultifyingly basic soundbite that bears no relationship whatsoever to his actual record.

Anyway, if you are interested in learning more about this Alito character, the Washington Post has put together a comprehensive and helpful set of pages about him. This page from the set, with a graphic showing the kinds of people/entities Alito tends to side with and against, and which compares his tendencies to those of other judges, is especially interesting.

Also, here is the ACLU's excellent statement in opposition to Alito's confirmation. Here is the ACLU's in-depth report concerning Judge Alito's opinions affecting civil rights and civil liberties. And, finally, here is the ACLU's letter to the Senate Judiciary Committee regarding the Alito nomination.

Please contact your senator to let him/her know how you feel about the Alito nomination. I've made it really easy for you!

I'm still kicking . . .

just haven't had time to post, as I have been very busy at work this week. For the last two days, I have gotten up so early that my dogs simply stayed in bed, not yet ready to begin their day.



(photo courtesy of this site)

Tomorrow I have the good fortune to make a business trip to this thriving metropolis in which, according to this link, I will find myself a member of multiple minority groups. At least the weather is supposed to be nice. And maybe I'll meet a boy while I'm there!

I'm off to finish my 565-page book now . . . only a few pages to go!

Jack Handey is Awesome

I'm still reading my "Live From New York" book (up to page 394 out of 565-yea!) about the history of Saturday Night Live, which is truly addictive. The book proceeds chronologically and I just reached the pages about Jack Handey, who wrote "Deep Thoughts" on SNL during the last time period when I was a devoted follower of the show. I remember watching the episodes with "Deep Thoughts" and belly-laughing at how funny they were.

Here's one for your Sunday reading pleasure:



Here's another one--this one was always my favorite:



Courtesy of grossgirl.com.

Not haiku, but still made me laugh out loud.

That would be Dave Barry's summary of 2005, including this amusing tidbit:

... President Bush, needing to make another appointment to the Supreme Court, conducts a thorough and painstaking investigation of every single woman lawyer within an 8-foot radius of his desk. He concludes that the best person for the job is White House Counsel Harriet Miers, who, in the tradition of such legendary justices as Felix Frankfurter, Louis Brandeis and Oliver Wendell Holmes, is a carbon-based life form.

Ultimately Miers withdraws her name. The president, after conducting another exhaustive search, decides to appoint “John Roberts” again, because it worked out so well the first time. Informed by his aides that there could be some legal problem with this tactic, the president finally decides to nominate Samuel Alito. Democrats immediately announce that they strongly oppose Alito and intend to do some research soon to find out why.

In Congress, Tom DeLay's ethical woes worsen as he is indicted on additional charges of hijacking a train.