DamnedTrak and the Baked Apple

Horror of all horrors. Almost as terrifying as a Stephen King novel. As scary as the Deatheaters in Harry Potter. But worth it? You bet.

My hiatus from blog-land is due to a long awaited trip to New York City, with my 15 year old son. I'd heard that 3 of my favorite authors were doing a benefit reading for Doctors Without Borders and the Haven Foundation (for artists without health insurance). So, foolishly thinking a 6 hour train ride would allow my teenage boy and I to "bond", and selfishly thinking of the knitting time, I booked tickets on Amtrak to leave Tuesday morning at 8 a.m. The performance wasn't until 7:30 that night, so a mid-afternoon arrival would give us plenty of time to check into the hotel, get a nice dinner, then off to Radio City Music Hall.

Wrong.

First off, the train was 2 hours late arriving. Second, there was "work on the track" and we sat for over an hour waiting for freight trains to pass us. Then, the heat advisory. Who knew that if temperatures exceeded 90 degrees, trains had to slow down so the wheels wouldn't fall off!

Of course, if all of this information was given to me that morning, I would have cashed in the tickets and driven.

But no. When it became apparent we were going to miss the show, I almost got off the train and came home. But then I decided to give Radio City a chance to take pity on me, and a very nice woman named Alice was able to trade my tickets for the Wednesday night performance. Phew.

And ... phew! New York City when it's 102? The odors. The sweat rolling down my back and dripping off my nose. The lack of available taxis. Walking 15 blocks to the show. Arghhh.






These guys had the right idea.





We saw this:










And this:



No yarn stores (there is only so much a 15 year old boy can tolerate), but I did cruise the Strand Bookstore -- 18 miles of books!

I wish I could tell you that the return trip was better, and it was -- instead of being 6 hours late, we were only 1 and 1/2 hours late. And although the temperature was in the high 90's outside, I was in the meat locker car, shivering.

But ... there has been knitting! I'll save the "warshcloths" and baby bib for another post, and the Mason-Dixon KAL, but I have to show this:


Log Cabin blanket in Knitpicks Crayon -- pima cotton and soft! I love it, and it's the perfect summer mindless knitting.




So, the lessons to be learned:

1. In the words of Scarlett O'Hara, "As God as my witness, I'll never take Amtrak again."

2. Do NOT go in the subway in NYC when the temperature reaches 100 or above, if you value your nasal cavity.

3. Dumbledore is dead. Really dead, according to JK Rowling. "He won't do a Gandalf," she said, while wearing fantastic sandals with straps that looked like snakes.

4. Stephen King is scared by the Deatheaters. He is very thin, but lively.

5. John Irving is one good looking older man.

6. And ... there's nothing like a cold beer when you get home.

Feckless Friday

1. I've caught the bug. Mason-Dixon "warshcloths". I was at Michael's yesterday, and Sugar & Cream was on sale for $1 a ball! Who could resist?

I love the funky colors, and though it's squished on the needles, I think it will turn out fine. It's also quick, easy and mindless -- perfect for on the desk knitting (or on the phone with a difficult client knitting).

2. Sox. Red. Sox. Red Sox sox!

My partner in crime is from Boston. Sorry, Bah-stan, where she p-ah-ks her c-ah. She loves the Red Sox, and her birthday is in September. I've even ordered the "B" symbol to sew on the top! I predict I'll have to buy her a box of Depends 'cause she'll pee when she opens the gift.





3. Chimpanzees! I had the most wonderful experience recently. Friends of Jack spent some time here:














And helped take care of:















The head caretaker, Stany Nywandi, is visiting here before he goes to a Chimp Conference in Florida. Picture it -- chimps in suits around a conference room table. Bananas everywhere!

Stany:


is a wonderful man who, with his wife, escaped from some serious fighting in Africa. He was separated from his wife and children (4) for some time -- they actually had to hide in the jungle -- but now are reunited. He is also caring for his brother's 3 children, as his brother suffers from AIDS.

Jack is exploring the possibility of writing a book about Stany's experiences, and might go to Uganda in the fall -- maybe for several months. As for me, I've already ordered some cotton yarn (Crayon by Knitpicks) to knit log-cabin kid blankets for his kids. I know, it's Africa. But he says it gets cool in the evenings. And what kid wouldn't want a cozy, fluffy blanket!

That's all for now -- it's Friday afternoon and I'm the only loser in the office. Hence the title of the post. Time to go knit!

An Embarassment of Riches

So I never realized how bad it had gotten until yesterday.

Jack and I have had the pleasure of visitors for the past few days -- his son's in-laws from Colorado. Wonderful, down to earth people who live in a cabin they built together north of Fort Collins. And Janet's a knitter!

The first night, they stayed with us at the cottage. Last night, we were back at the homestead, and Janet asked to see my stash. I then realized that I was out of control. Cabinets. Drawers. Plastic bins. Wicker baskets full! Stash everywhere.

As her eyes got wider and wider (granted, she and her husband live in a very small cabin -- 12 x 16 with a loft), I realized my stash would fill their entire living space. Gulp.

And we didn't even open the bins.

So what's the solution? A yarn diet? I hate diets. Makes me want what I can't have even more. And besides, diets don't apply when you're on vacation or out of town, and I'll be going to NYC next week and North Carolina in mid-August.

A fast? Cold turkey? Stay away from yarn stores? But what about the internet? (I am now breaking out in a cold sweat). For Christmas, my daughter bought me Yarn Harlot's second book, inscribing it: "Mom -- Learn from her and don't let this happen to you." So far, I haven't resorted to YH's hints of stashing yarn in the freezer, or in the sleeves of coats in the back of the closet. But I'm close, darn close.

And of course, last week when I was visiting my octagenarian aunt (see, visiting), my sister and I went to a yarn store. And I found just the right color for a new pair of soxs for my friend's birthday.

Diet, schm-iet. Hey! I could keep some here at the office! Filing cabinets! Back of the desk drawers! We even have an attic!!!!

OMG. If anyone knows of a 12 Step Program for us yarn-a-holics ...

ps At this most recent visit to the out of town store, I saw the most amazing thing -- knitting needles that light up. They have tiny batteries -- like watch battery size -- and clear tips. Since I don't like long straight needles, I passed them by, but damn I wish I'd thought of the idea and patented it! Hmmm, maybe waterproof for in the tub are next! Or an attachment to the steering wheel so you can drive and knit ...

When It Rains

... it pours, just like today. Buckets since early morning. It's good, though, finally cooling off. Perfect day for a nap, too -- if I can swing it.

Lots to report. First, a FO!



Yarn: King Tut 100% cotton

Pattern: Semi-taken from "Creative Knitting" Garter Ridge Cardi from this Spring. I eliminated the ridges, made the edging a different color, and opted for 3/4 length sleeves.

The scoop: The yarn is very soft and slinky. Splits a bit, but I used Addi Turbos and it worked out fine. I'm not happy with the back neck -- picking up, not breaking up is hard to do. I fiddled with it, too much, and have decided to live with it instead of rip. I love the buttons and, true to form, have absolutely nothing in my wardrobe to match the color.

And this is what happens when cats are left alone all day, and you leave a skein of yarn draped around the back of a chair, mid-winding.




Hmmmm, who to suspect?
















I made more jam -- black raspberries that are abundant on our property.











And finally, meet the newest member of the family. As yet un-named.



My son Jon got an early birthday present from his dad. He's 12 weeks old, and cute as a pudgy little bug, and lives with Jon at his Dad's house. When I went over to see him, the little tyke was already chewing on the television remote.

I can't wait until he meets his big step-sister Alice.

Why I Am Insane

... or, the top ten reasons why I do Assigned Counsel cases:

10. I love being asked by my client if he/she should "hire a real lawyer."

9. I enjoy being referred to as a "free lawyer", even by judges.

8. I have no better things to do with my time than sit through hours of testimony on why a sexual predator is a "good parent" who has never been seen acting "weird."

7. I'm happy when the County I live in decides to cut travel time from the budget, so attorneys can't bill for the time it takes to go to and from widely spaced courthouses for cases no one else will take.

6. I like being paid less than half my rate for retained clients. Really, I do.

5. I like being accused of being a racist by my own client. And sexist.

4. I also enjoy running up and down the courthouse stairs, having been assigned 7 cases in the morning, and a similar number for the afternoon calendar, and having both Judges want me in their courtroom at the same time. The deputies love it too.

3. I'm happy I can no longer eat in a number of restaurants in town, as if certain Respondents knew I was one of the customers, I'm sure I'd get surprises in my food.

2. I really like the carbon-less vouchers we have to fill out in order to get paid, and all the detail the county wants.

1. and ... in spite of the above, my mother taught me everyone deserves a fair break, so to all of you assigned counsel clients out there, come look at my diploma, my grade point average, my crappy Jeep that needs new carrier bearings, my waning bank account and my credit card balances. And thank my mother for keeping me going (may she rest in peace).

whew. Now I can get back to work.

Moose feet

Who would think that these little socks wouldn't fit a one-year old?


Well, they don't. Here, as Exhibit A, are his feet:

And here is the one-year old, in all his cuteness.

Granted, I haven't seen him for over a year, but I thought, hmmm, I'll knit him cool socks, size 'em for 18 months, and be in the clear. Oh me of little faith! Anyway, he's my pal Anna's baby -- all 30 pounds of Ethan! His eye's are Mom's, but the rest of him is Dad -- 6'2" tall. We had a great time, and I'm now planning something in, say, a size 16 for Christmas!


It's supposed to hit record hot temperatures today. In the words of Elvira Gultch, aka Wicked Witch of the West, I'm melting ..............

It's hot and it IS Friday

Still hot. Steamy. Sultry. (Anyone remember "Throw Mama from the Train" with Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito?) But, it's Friday and only one more court appearance to go. I hate living for the weekends, but it seems like that's all I do lately. Most nights, like last, I make it home with barely enough energy to feed the cats. I watched a marginal DVD about Horatio Hornblower (okay, so the library was running low), and went to bed around 10. It feels like I have no life during the week. And people wonder why I've told all my kids NOT to be lawyers!

Knitting update -- I started the English pattern, diving right in without a swatch. The good news was that the gauge was fine. The bad news was my translation of millimeters to inches. I cast on for the first size -- usually okay for me -- and it could have fit Barbie. Then I remember what happened when I went to Ireland and tried on clothes. My usual 8-10 was a struggle to get over my shoulders. The nice salesperson explained that the sizing was different, so I shouldn't immediately crash diet. I didn't think Guiness was that fattening!

So I ripped, and started again, now with a bigger size. I love the color, and the feel of the yarn -- very soft. Though like cotton, the ply tends to split. So I have to be careful it doesn't get "loopy", and I'm using Addi turbos with blunter tips. The lace pattern is easy to remember, so it should go pretty fast.






And just for fun, here's a photo I scanned of my parents at the beach -- 1940 when they were still dating. I love the "Lucy" kerchief and her "real woman" thighs!

It's hot and it's not Friday

It must be the heat. I bought this Knitting magazine from England, and am going to try a pattern.


Mind you, I never quite got the metric system. They tried in junior high school (which shows how old I am – now it’s middle school), and it didn’t stick. But I love the pattern! And who knew there would be language issues -- yarn forward = yarn over, for example. And tension? No thanks, I get enough of that at work (hee hee).


And I got this neat yarn at Michael’s.


I usually don’t knit with anything acrylic, but this is Lion Brand Microspun, and it was only $3.99 skein, and I needed only 4. And the color is terrific! They call it mango, but I say it's coral.


Swatching has already begun.

The Rhode Island trip was wonderful. Liz’s apartment was nice (cleaner than mine would have been at age 21 – just ask my older sister!), we went to the beach, the RISD art museum, shopping, and to the movies. The highlight was watching Lizzie put away all of my Aunt Louise’s kitchenware, including her old, dented canister set.


I have many memories of good times and great food in auntie’s kitchen, and it makes me feel good to know that the tradition will continue.








Of course, I found a yarn store. In addition to sock yarn (unphotographed as of yet), I bought a bag! Ten bucks!

Which leads me to, bags in general. Am I the only knitter with a bag obsession? Maybe it’s not just a knitterly trait, either. I have briefcases. Brief-bags. Messenger bags. Tote bags. I just can’t resist buying new bags, even used-new bags at thrift stores. I counted. Big mistake. Including the obligatory lawyer-briefcases, and one trial case, I have a grand total of NINETEEN BAGS. Not purses, mind you (or pocketbooks as my Grandmother would call them). No, 19 bags – canvas, tapestry, cotton, leather, straw … you name it, I have it. And I always buy more. Of course, it makes it easier to hide UFOs in – they don’t stare at you like when they’re lurking on the couch, in baskets, or next to the bed. I can’t hear their guilt-inducing whines , “Finish me! No, me first, not the shawl. Not the sweater. Me me me!” when they’re pushed down into their canvas prisons. Oh, did I mention the “bag within a bag” syndrome? Little bags – with zippers, with drawstrings. You know, for socks in progress, needles, odds and ends. Those don’t count in the final tally.

When I die, bag me.

Back from Rhode Island

... and exhausted from the drive. It was a nice trip; went to the beach, walked around the city, found a .... YARN store (hee hee). I bought some lovely Schaefer lace, and will post photos tomorrow, as well as some cool sock yarn. It was too hot and sticky to do much knitting though, as Lizzie's apartment was not air conditioned.

snooze time ...

Arghhhhh!

So for today's first post, Blogger said it didn't post. So I did another one. Same deal. I check when I get home -- two posts!

Sorry for the double reading.

Relaxing Fireworks -- an oxymoron?

Happy Anniversary !











And what makes this card especially great, is that Jack and I bought the same one from two different stores, for each other! Karma. I also got roses. He got a toolbox.

All in all, it was a great anniversary weekend. Independence Day! hee hee. Went to the lake:


Not too much rain, but some clouds. Rode my new bike around it, had a cook-out, watched fireworks.


Jack dug 4 postholes for the deck:










And I started Hourglass. I love the yarn -- all silky and wooly at the same time. I'm doing seed stitch instead of hems -- who needs the extra bulk around those hips -- and I think it will be great.

Tomorrow, after Court, I leave on a road trip to Rhode Island. Lizzie is there (oldest kid) and she has been forewarned that we must visit ALL the yarn stores in Providence. Poor 15 year old son will simply have to tolerate ...

Romance and more ...

And what is this? Why, an anniversary card! And guess what? We got each other the very same card. Bought at 2 different places. Made me feel good! I think I'll frame it.

So for the loooong weekend (not too long, as I had a torturous trial
Monday afternoon in Court), I/we:

1. Enjoyed the lake.




A little rain, some clouds, but mostly nice.







2. Dug 4 postholes for the new deck -- Jack, not me! (sweaty photos to follow)

3. Knit on the Hourglass Sweater, with this yummy yarn. I decided to vary from the pattern a tad, by doing seed stitch edges. So far, so good.


I love the feel of this -- silky and wooly at the same time.









4. Made this wacky pin holder from a piece of felted thrift store sweater. I kept dropping the pins in and out of the little plastic box, so ...

I have a bunch of squares I'm going to sew together for a blanket, like the one in "Intriguing Knits", and this was a scrap. Works for me!






5: Enjoyed my roses:




Tomorrow, right after Court, I'm leaving for Rhode Island to visit oldest kid. Lizzie has already been warned that we must visit all yarn stores in Providence, and she's up for the challenge. Hope to have treasures to show when I get back!

Photo-less Alliteration

I left my camera and home, but wanted to post anyway. Here's the news:

1. Bounty: I have found the yarn store of my dreams. Spirit Work in Rochester (really, Irondiquoit, but who can pronounce it?) I had a law guardian home visit in the neighborhood, and stopped afterward. Big, lots of light, tables, couches, nice, helpful staff. Nice music in the backround, an area for snacks! And ... every type of yarn you can think of. All the cool stuff I've read about in magazines. Plus, cool doo-dads, knitting bags. I asked if I could live there. The website is: www.spiritworkknit.com . I'll let you know when I change my mailing address to the back of the shop.

2. Buying: Of course, I had to buy something at Spirit Work, in spite of my foolish decision to only knit from the stash. I've wanted to knit the "Hourglass" Sweater from "Last Minute Knitted Gifts", and I found some tweedy green Kathmandu Aran yarn -- 85% wool, 10% silk, 5% cashmere. I'm dying to start it, but am forcing discipline and finishing the cotton cardigan first. Which leads to ...

3. Buttonholes: I agree with Maggie Righetti in "Knitting in Plain English". Buttonholes are bastards. After ripping, pinning, measuring, I think I got it right. I did change the pattern though, from 8 buttons to 7. Eight seemed too many, especially on my "vertically challenged" frame.
So it's only sleeve seaming to go!

4. Bikes: I bought one! My first in 30 years. A Raleigh, hybrid. Which means I can ride on rougher surfaces, or roads. And it's a "comfort style", which means I ride upright -- no hunching over -- and it has a (ahem) wider seat, for the (ahem) mature figure. Arghhh. Next it will be the Senior discount at Denny's. I'm going to take it out for the first spin this morning!

That's all for now; the "b" categories are all used up!

Photo opportunities

Here's the jam:
Here's the sweater:



Couldn't figure out how to get the web photo of Clark Gable in a pirate shirt, so you'll have to use your imagination -- or fill in with a fantasy of Johnny Depp! (I love pirates)

Jammin'

Disclaimer: For some unknowable cyber reason, I can't upload any of my recent photos. It says "done", but nothing comes up. So I'm posting anyway, and if the cyber monkies inside my computer decide to behave, I'll post the photos next.

I must be out of my mutinous mind.* (see rant on language use below) Either that or I'm channeling some forties version of Betty Crocker with a print apron tied around her waist. What did I do this weekend?



And that's only the first batch. All told, I made 4 batches of jam; 2 cherry, 2 strawberry. And there's more to come!

So, I say to myself, why? Not just because the taste of homemade jam on toast (the world's most perfect food -- it's warm, it's buttery, need I say more?) is wonderful; not just because I remember my mother and aunts doing the same, but -- it's something I can look at and feel good about accomplishing. Something "real."

Unlike the practice of law.

Most of the time, I feel as if what I do has no meaning. Seriously, who cares about the Tupperware or who gets to keep the Precious Moments collection? It's not only that, but listening all day long to stories of failed relationships is draining. And explaining that, "Yes, I know it's not fair, but it's the law," and "Even though your spouse cheated on you numerous times, with numerous others, in the marital bed, he/she still gets half the assets," is depressing.

So jam (and I would add knitting) is tangible proof of hard work. And it's sweet! And leads to toast. Enough said.

I also worked on the cotton cardigan, finishing the neck and left front bands. Here it is:

I hate picking up stitches!!! I always rip them out at least once, then agonize over the gaps, forgetting each time that they fill in with the weight of the band and I can always tighten them up later. It's still nerve wracking to me, which leads to "FOF" syndrome. Fear of Finishing. If it's not yet an official syndrome, it should be. And the worst is yet to come. Buttonholes. Maybe I'll crush more berries instead!

* Language Rant: Freakin'. What the freak? I've used it. I hear it said all the time. Along with it's cousin, "frig". And it bothers me. Now I know it's a socially acceptable substitute for the "real" f word, and although I am a fierce proponent of the First Amendment -- Nazis, KKK, pro-lifers -- let 'em talk even if I disagree -- I hate the freakin' use of freakin'! If you're going to curse, just curse, I say. Or find something more creative. Like, "Die you mutinous dog." Or, "A pox on your genitals." Can you tell I watched the 1935 version of "Mutiny on the Bounty" this weekend? With Clark Gable, nonetheless, a true hunk:

So why does it bug me? Maybe because one of my little 6 year old Law Guardian clients uses it. Maybe because I like to learn new swear words and this seems like the chicken's way out. Or maybe because it's Monday and I wish I were in the south of France with my daughter Caroline. Oooh la la!

Mason Dixon KAL

Has anyone ever done a Log Cabin felted tote? I think I'm game to try ...

Freaky Friday

This is Miss Kitty. She is almost 4 years old, and the most spoiled cat on the planet. And it's my own damned fault. The monster I created demands attention from the moment I get up in the morning. Not just, "Feed me," attention. Not just, "Pet me," attention. No, it's in your face, rub my nose against your lips, crawl on your lap, dig my claws into your legs, constant MEOWing attention. I'm worried that she's neurotic. Or that I'm neurotic. Can cats be co-dependent? Does she think I'm her mother cat? Am I projecting my desire for future grandchildren on her? Should I knit her a little cap and layette? Blue would match her eyes ....



And this is Caroline. Caroline is currently in France, as part of a college study program. She's been gone since the beginning of June, and I miss her. She called me today, but I was in Court, arguing with an attorney I refer to as "a real prince." Prince of Darkness that is. So, I missed the call, and back at the office decided to call France. (Remember the Coneheads from SNL? "We are from France.") I dredged up the remnants of my high school French class from the recesses of my brain, and dialed. Here's how the conversation went:

"Bonjour," says a nice male voice.
"Bonjour," I reply. "Je suis la mere de Caroline." (I am Caroline's mother -- or, I am Caroline's sea, I'm not sure which).
"Ah", the man replies, and rattles of several sentences which sound like "Caroline! djdhgfhworueklvnvlsleuiwowklsldkdjfjkfllla ne pas ici."
"Je will call back, uh, demain? tomorrow?"
"Hui wklkdjkj le plage jfidiosjflkhjeljoiasjglkj," the man says.
"Merci," I say meekly.
"Au revoir."
"Au revoir."

If the Department of Homeland Security was listening, will they please call and let me know what the man said?

And finally, this is to make me feel better. It's a lovely sculpture in Rochester's Memorial Art Gallery. See how graceful she is? How lovely the curves of her body? How big her be-hind is? How she doesn't care

a whit about it? (What's a whit, anyway?) I caught a glimpse of my self in the mirror today, and have decided that if I don't get serious about excercising, I'll need to apply to the U.S. Postal service for a separate zip code for my butt.

But (couldn't resist), as I've said in the past, real women have hips. Think I can knit an outfit like that? In blue?

Time to start the weekend ... and to practice my French -- think a few "Pink Panther" movies will help? hee hee

The home stretch

The "King Tut" cotton cardigan is almost done. Here's the second sleeve, then it's pick up around the neck and fronts for the garter stitch border in the darker green.





Here are the buttons; aren't they cute?

I'm thinking of doing a duplicate stitch embroidery on the back, just a little "sumpin'" about two inches down from the neck, in the center. Maybe a flower? Maybe a dragonfly?

Work has been hell. My secretary has mono, and her doc told her to stay home for 2 weeks! Our paralegal, unfortunately, does not have superpowers afterall, and we've been scrambling to find a fill-in to at least answer the never ending phones and do the filing.

And for anyone that thinks summers in the legal biz must be slow, chew on this: There is no slow season for marital disharmony. None. Nada. Nil.

Since I can't come up with any other "n" words, that's all for now!

Dog Daze and Fine Whine

Here's the world's best dog waiting at the office for me to get done packing up my trial case for the weekend. It's supposed to be in the 90's here, and the last thing I want to be doing is testimony outlines for a case that is going nowhere. I keep repeating in my head: "Everyone is entitled to representation under the law," but when there are neglect findings from 1998, reports from psychiatrists that are, to be mild, damning, how strongly do I have to defend this client against having his parental rights terminated? (that's the whining). The two day trial starts Monday at 9. The Coronas with lime get opened tonight at 6.

And this mysterious beauty is TwinA. We feasted on fries and hot fudge sundaes last night, after seeing "The Break-Up" -- the flick with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. It started out funny, but then deteriorated into being too much like my matrimonials, and too much like bad relationships I've had. But the company was marvelous!


And ... she tried on the too-big sock, and loved it! On to too-big #2, with lime! :)

Can't get no .... Satisfaction

Okay -- here's attempt #2. Cascade Fixation, in cool sherbet-like colors, 36 sts on size 3 dpn. 1 and 1/2 inches of k1p1 rib, then "Eye of Peacock" heel, and on down.



Does it fit?




You be the judge. Feels a little "rough" -- see how the stitches are stretched? Not quite the same "cushy" feel when I had 44 stitches, but then it was baggy.









Here's another view. See what I mean about the stitches?



I suppose I'll do 40 for the next pair. But damn, I hate to screw up!

Too Loose, Lautrec!

Here 's sock #1 -- Cascade Fixation, 2-1/2" cuff, 44 stitches on size 3 dpn. I tried it on mid-way through the foot, and evidently my ankles are thin (small-boned), as opposed to my hips! So, this pair is destined for my DIL, who is taller than me. Okay, everyone is taller than me, except my dear 89-year old Aunt Alice, aka "The Incredible Shrinking Aunt" .

So I'm going to start another pair, for me, using the recipe in the Cascade Fixation Anklet KAL, found at http://cascadesockkal.blogspot.com/. I'm going to keep the "Eye of Partridge" heel -- it looks very cool in the stripey yarn -- but switch to K1P1 for the ribbing, instead of K2P2.

(humming the words to the song "Short People" as I go back to work)

A kinder, gentler divorce???

Pardon my legal rambling, but I spent two days last week, Thursday and Friday, learning a “new” way to practice matrimonial law – “Collaborative Practice.” Basically, both parties and their attorneys commit to working out the details without going to Court, and to using “divorce coaches” (I hate that term -- makes me think of high school gym teachers with whistles) from the mental health and financial fields to ease the process. If it all breaks down, then neither party can use any information obtained from negotiations in litigation, and they have to get different attorneys.

Sounds great, right? I’m skeptical. I’ve being doing this type of law for 20+ years, and though I personally hate getting down and dirty, and truly loathe those attorneys who have to litigate every pot and pan, I wonder how much of the collaborative process is practicing law, as opposed to emotional counseling. Don’t get me wrong – I’m anxious to try it and see if it works well enough to give up litigation forever, but I wonder how the clients will react. It seems that there’s a “War of the Roses” mentality in most people who walk through my door – they want to “get” the other spouse, no matter what. Usually, if enough time goes by, the desire for revenge lessens, helped out by my continuing spiel about litigation just creates more problems, especially if children are involved, and who wants major life decisions to be made by a person in a black robe that doesn’t know you at all. Plus, the dollars and cents.

It's worth a try. Just this morning my own client accused me of being a racist (I am the 4th attorney who has been assigned to represent him in a neglect proceeding), and tool of the Department of Social Services. We’re in the middle of trial, and the Judge wouldn’t let me out of the case. No wonder I’m …..



Fixated on Fixation! Here’s the beginning of an anklet, and I love the feel of the socks. Very cushy. And – I bought those little “sweater” point protectors and use them to make sure I don’t lose stitches when I tuck these babies in my briefcase or purse. Cool!


And finally – birthday socks for my oldest friend, Denise aka Blanche. They’re a surprise, but I don’t think she’ll catch this post, so it’s safe to show them before I mail them off. Don’t they look like Starburst candies?



HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLANCHE! (there are rats …)





PS One of the reasons I’m ranting and raving is this:


The building next door is getting a new roof. There are saws, shingles dropping, motors whirring. I can’t wait for the stinky tar smell to waft in through the window. Arghhhh!