divine angst

I was supposed to have a meeting this morning at 11, but it was cancelled at the last minute (well, rescheduled). This is fine with me, though it did leave me with something of a hole in the middle of my day. So I’m sitting here on my couch, doing some work (and posting), wondering how to fill the time I had already allotted for that meeting.

Options include:

1. getting a manicure (this is not a bad idea, since I have a nail that either needs a repair or is going to get cut off all the way down to the quick)
2. getting a pedicure (also not a bad idea, since it’s summer and I’m wearing sandals so much, but my feet are…um…not pretty)
3. taking myself and my laptop to a coffee house and working (gets me out of the house, at least)
4. shopping for clothes (I need some new shirts)
5. going to the pool (disadvantage: may take up too much of my day)

What do you think?

What is it about telecommunications companies? Our cable was out for two days because a cable company employee saw that our cable hookup on the roof wasn’t marked–and disconnected it. Why wouldn’t the employee put in a quick call to find out if this apartment number has a valid and current account with the company? Why wouldn’t he or she make a note of the disconnection so that when we called in to find out what was going on, we’d get an answer?

So many whys, so few answers.

At any rate, our internet access at home has been restored, so I can once again work in the comfort of my pajamas if I want to. And thank goodness for THAT!

Meanwhile, has everyone seen this? It’s not bad enough that attachment parenting types harangue women about breastfeeding, now the government is going to, also? Yes, yes, yes, breast is best. But as the article rightly points out, not all women CAN breastfeed (physically, I mean), and many others don’t, because they have to go back to work and can’t pump at work, or work in jobs where pumping is impractical.

Is anyone else mystified by the status of parenting in this country? On the one hand, more and more women are undergoing elective C-sections with scheduled delivery dates–often for convenience, not for health reasons. But rather than decry that increasingly popular practice, public health officials choose instead to speak out about the dangers of not breastfeeding–when most women will hear throughout pregnancy, and after delivery, that breastfeeding is the best choice.

Our internet is out at home. So is our cable. The cable company? Per normal, incompetant. Mr. Angst’s blood pressure is pretty high right now.

Hence, the light posting.

I’ll post something longer later today, but for now I want to say: send me links for the Law School Roundup! It’ll be here on Sunday, and links from readers ALWAYS help.

Tonight’s culinary experiment was raspberry shortcake. I had some really pretty raspberries I bought earlier this week, thinking I’d do cup o’ cobbler with them, but never really got around to it. (Cup o’ cobbler is served hot, too, and it’s been warm enough that the dessert didn’t sound all that appealing.)

So while we were in line at the grocery store this afternoon, I saw the cover of this month’s Saveur, with a strawberry shortcake on it, and was struck with a brilliant idea. I’d make strawberry shortcake–with raspberries!

I used a Cook’s Illustrated recipe–it’s a web exclusive–and it turned out really good. Here’s a picture. Sorry about the quality; it’s hard to take good pictures of anything white, like whipped cream, with a flash.

It was TOTALLY YUM.

Mr. Angst and I are watching Mexico vs. Iran in the World Cup right now. The game is changing my whole conception of soccer players, though.

Based on my personal experience with soccer boys in college, you see, I thought all soccer players were dirty.

My dorm room was above the men’s soccer team’s locker room. It was sort of a weird arrangement, actually. My dorm was the closest building to the soccer field, so I guess it made sense to put the locker room there. But my dorm was also all-girls and mostly freshmen. (I lived there because I got a HUGE single.) And It wasn’t unusual for freshman women to freak out a little in the laundry room, the first time they would realize that the door marked “locker room” wasn’t a holdover from the building’s history as part of a military academy. Smelly, hairy boys would traipse in and out without shirts on, right past the rows of washers and dryers. Invariably, some unsuspecting young woman would be pulling her unmentionables from a dryer right as a half-naked soccer player sauntered by. Frantic calls to the dorm staff would ensue. (I never could figure out why they didn’t tell the girls the boy’s locker room was down there during dorm orientation. My best guess is that most of the dorm staff were so used to it by then that they’d just forget.)

So, anyway. Soccer boys, in my experience, were always a little dirty. When I’d see them walking to and from the building, they were dirty. When I’d see them around campus, they were dirty. They didn’t seem to shave often. They never got their hair cut. They would shower, but somehow always looked a little sweaty anyway. Their clothes were typically rumpled and their shoes (always black Adidas) were always totally destroyed. After meals in the dining hall, they’d kick the hacky sack around with dirty bare feet. They were always NICE, but always, ALWAYS, dirty.

The Mexican and Iranian players, however, appear to be mostly tidy. Yes, they are sweaty, because they’ve been running around for 45 minutes. But they have (mostly) clean-cut hair and (mostly) clean-shaven faces. Soccer, as it turns out, isn’t a sport for the perennially dirty. It makes me wonder if it’s just the American flavor of soccer that’s sort of unclean. Maybe it’s just college soccer that’s dirty. I honestly don’t know. But I’m glad to know it’s not soccer itself.

Don’t forget to check out this week’s Law School Roundup over at Legal Underground. Next week, it’ll be back here.

I got my hair cut today.

OK, yeah, I got all of them cut. Ha ha.

Because I am a poor law student whose entire summer pay will be funding our move, I went to a place where students cut the hair. (I’ve been there for color before, but never for a cut.) It’s not really a “Beauty College”–it’s a little higher end than that label would suggest–but my stylist was still a student.

And she screwed up.

Thankfully, she only screwed up on one small piece of hair. But it was sort of a doozy of a screw-up. One of my layers, right in the middle of the back of my head, was about 3/4 of an inch shorter than the layers around it. I guess she did a “square cut” layer for that one piece, and “round-cut” layers for the rest. I don’t know what any of that means, but I was listening as she tried to explain to the instructor what she’d done to make this mess of the back of my head.

And thank goodness for the instructors! First, one came by and fixed the bad layer (HALLELUJAH). Then another came by after I was blow-dryed and styled and blended everything together. I ended up with a cut that is pretty much what I wanted, if a little shorter in the back of the crown than I wanted.

The whole experience was a little unnerving, but I’m really OK with the whole thing. First, I have at least two months to grow out anything before interviews. Also, I like myself with short hair (as I kept telling the poor girl, as she got more and more nervous). Finally, I still paid less than I’d pay for a haircut in almost any other salon, and that’s counting the products I bought and a tip. (Yes, of course I tipped her. She worked hard and had a good sense of what I wanted, even if her execution wasn’t perfect. That’s why she’s a student, so she can learn.) Sure, it’s not the most polished cut I’ve ever had, but it’s pretty versatile and it’s flattering.

I find it funny how spotty Lexis and Westlaw are when it comes to certain journals. I’ve been pulling up articles all day and it’s strange that, in some cases, Lexis will have what I need and Westlaw won’t, but in other cases, it’s the opposite. Sometimes, Lexis’s coverage of a journal doesn’t go back far enough; sometimes Westlaw just doesn’t HAVE the journal.

I’d love it if I could get points for individual searches, too, because I’ve had to do a lot of digging to find things. I am beginning to understand the importance of source-and-cite–how many citations have I pulled from footnotes that were just plain wrong? Sigh.

While it was, indeed, quite beautiful out earlier, it definitely isn’t anymore. Some sort of fog has rolled in, with an almost chill wind. It’s cool and humid, an odd combination, but not an unwelcome one. I might be the only person in the world who feels this way, but I think the water is never more beautiful than when you can’t tell where it ends and the sky begins. And that’s exactly what I’m seeing out the windows right now. It’s so mysterious and also very calming.

Mr. Angst has been sick this week (during his finals, no less, which really sucks), so we went to bed super-early last night. Like, at 10pm. I really can’t remember the last time we got to bed before 11:30, so this is sort of big.

The benefit of going to bed early is that you tend to wake up earlier–sometimes, like this morning, before the alarm even goes off! So I got up early, thinking that today would be SO PRODUCTIVE, since I was refreshed and had TONS of time to get ready for the day.

Until my blowdryer decided not to work. First, I tried the test-reset buttons four or five times–nothing. So I moved into another room, thinking that maybe the plug in the bathroom was being persnickity. Nothing in the other room, either. So I put the blowdryer away and made coffee, thinking it might just need a rest. I tried it again, ten minutes later. Nothing.

The thing that is most annoying is that this blowdryer is not that old. I had a blowdryer that I got in HIGH SCHOOL, when I had about ten pounds more hair, and I used it through college, and past college–all told, I think that dryer lived a good eight years. This one, the one that died today, is MAYBE two years old. MAYBE. And it’s not like my high school blowdryer was a fancy expensive one.

So now I have to find time to go buy a new blowdryer. Pffft.

I am sure others have said it before. But I’m going to say it now–any system of billable hours cannot and will not promote efficiency. When a limited amount of work exists, the most efficient method of completing that work is going to be passed over in favor of the method that provides the most revenue.

In other words, I am becoming a less efficient worker. That’s sort of sad.

So there’s this show on TLC called Honey, We’re Killing the Kids! I got a little sucked in this afternoon (after I went to an outdoor book festival and the grocery store; don’t worry, I haven’t been sitting on my butt all day).

Anyway, the basic premise is that families with unhealthy lifestyles are profiled, and a nutritionist/behaviorist (I guess) comes in and gives the family a plan for a healthier lifestyle. But, of course, the parents must have a “shock” to make them WANT to change, so they do age-progression on photos of the kids.

I swear to God, the pictures are hysterical. I am sure the parents are suitably stunned by the “worst-case” picture they see at the beginning, and are pleased by the “see how you’ve helped your kids!” picture they see at the end. But the pictures themselves? Look up “stereotype” in the dictionary. The bad pictures invariably show the sons with mullets and acne scars and cheap, plastic-rim glasses. They always have ratty facial hair and are wearing ill-fitting clothing. In contrast, the good pictures show the sons with fashionable haircuts, NO glasses (which, huh? one parent picked up on that and said, “I guess he got that surgery”), clean-shaven faces, and attractive clothes.

The pictures are, really, total fiction. I am not sure what sort of technology they use (though the shots inserted into the show make it look like the behaviorist is using Photoshop, when I am sure SHE is not using ANY software, and Photoshop is not the basis for the age-progression) but it doesn’t seem terribly likely to produce realistic results. Of course, for the shock value, the producers are going to make the bad pictures as unappealing as possible. But isn’t baldness and bad skin and the extra weight enough of a negative?

Everyone knows that law students are special. (We are!) But how can we remember to feel our own special-ness deep inside during the summer, when all that personal attention–via the Socratic Method–is just a faint memory? Here are a few ways.

• Isn’t it nice when the administration makes you feel special? (The Bitter Law Student)
• It would be nice, though, if everyone thought you were special. (The Namby Pamby Law Student)
• When the chips are down, music can always make you feel better. (Cella Bellum)
• Class might also make you feel better, if you can save some money that way. (Yayarolly goes to law school)
• You can also raise your spirits by stumbling into personal attention from a partner! (You Can’t Get Arrested for Being Awesome)
• Or by a chance encounter with someone who shares your interests. (Will Work for Favorable Dicta)
• Better yet, you could have a life-changing experience. (Clever WoT) [congrats!]
• But maybe you should try to avoid doing painful things more than once–remember, you’re ALREADY special. (Virginia Bar Exam Blog)
• Because, after all, Bar/Bri twists everything. (Legal Quandary)

And that’s it for this week! Be sure to look for the Weekly Law School Roundup at Evan Shaeffer’s Legal Underground next week.

I mentioned something about the pizza I made last weekend, so here’s a picture of it:

If you want the recipe, it’s in the Summer 2006 issue of Cook’s Illustrated. It’s YUM. Everything is homemade, including the dough–but it’s so easy, you won’t believe it.

Also, tonight, we made a little dessert, my delicious individual chocolate soufflés. Here is the recipe–and pictures, as a bonus.

5 oz. semisweet chocolate, either chips or chopped into small pieces
2 egg yolks
1 tbsp. dark rum (or vanilla, or bourbon, or whatever. I’ve been itching to try Rumpelminz.)
1/2 tbsp. unsalted butter
3 egg whites
pinch cream of tartar
pinch salt

Preheat your oven to 400°. Butter three 1-cup ramekins, and sprinkle with sugar.

In a metal bowl over a pot of hot but not simmering water, melt the chocolate, stirring until smooth.

Remove bowl from heat and whisk in egg yolks, one at a time. (You can actually just use a spatula or spoon; a whisk doesn’t really add anything but one more utensil to wash.) Then whisk (or stir) in rum and butter. (Note: the chocolate will get very clumpy and icky looking when you’ve added all this stuff. Don’t freak out about it.)

Beat egg whites stiff with cream of tartar and salt. Fold one quarter of the whites into the chocolate mix to thin, then fold in the remainder, being careful not to stir too vigorously.

Spoon into ramekins.

Bake on a sheet in the middle of the oven for 10-12 minutes until puffed. Eat and enjoy!

I’ll note that mine didn’t puff up as much as I’m used to tonight. I’m not sure why. I did a number of things differently tonight, though–first, I was short on chocolate, so I substituted a little Nutella for what I lacked. Also, I may have folded a little too vigorously, mostly because I almost over-whipped the egg whites. But the flavor did not suffer–and that’s really the key point. The puffy soufflé thing is dramatic and all, but the taste is the same, puffed or not.

From what I can tell, divineangst (and the blawgcoop, and the imbroglio) were offline for a bit tonight. Sorry about that! Hopefully whatever caught us up will not happen again tomorrow, because I’ll be posting my first turn at the Law School Roundup. If you saw something this week that interested you or made you laugh out loud, send me the link! The email address is right over there, to the right, under the picture of the fuzzy orange lion. (Or you could just click here.)

Back when I still worked, I used to get annoyed, pretty easily in fact, by projects that required me to work behind someone. I just really, REALLY hated having to pick up after someone else. (Invariably, I had to pick up after someone. Invariably.)

Today, I started a project that involves, essentially, picking up after other people. It’s not that these other people didn’t do their jobs, it’s just that they didn’t have time to finish those jobs, and now I have to finish them. Also, some of these jobs I’m working on were previously worked on by more than one person, and they produced materials that are not exactly the same. It really seems that, in some cases, the left hand not only didn’t talk to the right hand, but also didn’t even know the right hand was working on the same stuff! Argh!

So I have this pile of stuff that is the most frustrating stuff to work on EVER. Two hours of it and I wanted to throw my computer against a wall. I’m also not even close to being done, so I can look forward to days more of this–and to make it just that much better, I am not sure exactly what “this” will precisely entail. I have the sinking feeling I’m going to end up doing a lot of duplicate work over the next week or two.

Other than that, I am REALLY enjoying my summer.

Don’t forget, duckies — send me those linkies for the Law School Roundup! I’ve been collecting some this week, but I know I’m not subscribed to every law student blog, so I’m sure I am missing things. Hell, I’m sure I’m missing things from the blogs I am subscribed to, what with my short attention span and all.

I just watched an episode of Law and Order (I don’t how old, but Angie Harmon was the ADA) with Ellen Pompeo, our own Meredith Gray. And I just want to say, woman weighed about fifteen pounds more than she does lately, and she looked GOOD. (OK, she was in “my boyfriend beat me” makeup, but looking past that…) Also, I believe she showed more range in the twenty minutes of the episode I caught than in the second half of the last season of Gray’s Anatomy. I wish she would chew the scenery more, you know? Because when she’s all wooden and stiff, it makes Izzy’s little freakouts a little stranger.

Also, did everyone see that Anna Nicole copped to her pregnancy? God, I want to know who the babydaddy is.