I put in just a couple weeks at work (enough for a first paycheck) and then took off on my post-bar vacation. The topics of today’s local news stories:
It’s good to be here.
Kendi Everyday has my bag -
And it seems she too abandons efforts to keep it latched shut. it’s white instead of a yellow-ish brown, but that’s my bag!
In case you hadn’t noticed, I kind of think Kendi is amazing, so having the same bag as her makes me feel pretty stylin’.
GPOYfoodW (gratuitous picture of your food Wednesday)
I could post a pic of myself today (and I might still) but I don’t have any handy, I’m super sweaty at the moment from a pleasant six mile Potomac-side run, and this food is way better looking than me, right? I invented it whilst running today (I often dream of food on my runs) and think I’ll call it hummus pizza. Flat bread, topped with a little garlic olive oil, roasted red pepper hummus, and feta cheese, then toasted. And now I shall slice it like a pizza and devour. Mmmm.
This is how we do it…
My only day at the pool this summer, studying on the 4th. But now I’m back from the bar and better than ever!
"It’s official. You two take the best wedding-guest pictures." ~ Roommate
I’m not one to disagree with such a compliment. I don’t mean to brag, but the Boy and I are really good at weddings. Frankly, I was always pretty awesome at weddings on my own, but then I met him and learned that with my antics and his dancing skills, we’re unstoppable. Which is what makes me so sad that this weekend he’s in Seattle for what should be an awesome wedding. You can’t spin yourself on the dance floor (well not past age 6 and not without a very twirly dress), and if I try this move on my own, it will just look like I’m entering a limbo contest.
My dad says this to me and my sisters all the time, and I used to think of it often in law school. The mantra applies particularly well to the bar, methinks, and since I’m currently studying for the bar on a train to Philly to tailgate the Kenny Chesney concert with my dad for Fathers Day, it seemed just too appropriate.
In some law schools, and especially in years past, the student earning the top grade on the final in a class would “get the book.” The professor would give the student the text for the class as a sort of prize. (Law schools really know their incentives, don’t they?) I sat in on a bar prep lecture by a judge who is both an alumni and an adjunct at our school, and he said, “They don’t give anyone the book for the bar exam.”
For the first time in three years, we’re taking a test that, though curved, does not pit us against each other in the same way as a law exam. [And I feel I should pause here to say I was blessed to be in a wonderful first year section and to have great law school friends who did not look at my success as something keeping them down, or my failures as a chance to rise up, but those people were certainly out there.] For the bar, there’s no cum laude or yellow cords on a robe; there’s only pass and fail.
Even if you wrote the perfect bar exam, no one will ever know it was perfect. All that really matters is that it’s good. Not even good, actually, just good enough.
So I’ll plod through all the assignments that Barbri gives me (or at least all that I can manage), and I’ll study a lot, but I’m not going for perfect, I’m going for good enough. And part of my good enough is making sure I work out, eat well — but not too well — have an occasional drink, and yes, spend time with family and friends at a tailgate 3 hours from my home. And I’ll thank my dad for letting me know it’s okay to think like that. Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
GPOYW. Or GPOYF*W (*feet).
Not pictured: Haglund’s deformity, but more on that in a moment.
Unlike the preferences of almost everyone in the world, but quite similar to my self-proclaimed alternate personality, Liz Lemon, I dislike wearing flip-flops. My feat feel dirty after 5 minutes of walking around the city in them, and I even live in a semi-clean city. On top of that, I get really cold feet. I don’t mean that figuratively, although at least one ex-boyfriend thought that it was a physical manifestation of figurative tendencies on my part. But I digress. I’m not a huge fan of flip-flops.
Despite this strongly held opinion, I have worn them almost every day for the past month. I usually would bite my weirdo tendencies and wear them for fashion’s sake 50% of the time, but I have been full-on flip-flopping for four weeks now. The reason: aforementioned Haglund’s deformity. Otherwise known as pump bump. Otherwise known as the HUGE bump on the back of my heel that can apparently cause ACHILLES TEARS (which has to be written in all caps because that’s just how much they scare me).
Up until now, the only “running” injury I’ve ever had was actually a skiing injury — I threw myself down a mountain in the Andes, insisting that skiing would just “come back to me,” and then continued to run 5-6 miles a day it because I didn’t want to go through the hassle of seeing a doctor while studying abroad. Because that made sense in my 20-year-old head. My knee hurts when it’s humid, but really it’s a totally manageable condition. ACHILLES TEARS, though, scare me in a way that I cannot ignore, and so I’m diligently following advice from various running blogs and websites, which means more time on the bike and lots of time wearing flip-flops. I know I’m just biding my time until I have to go see an actual, real doctor, which on student health insurance will surely involve jumping through epic hoops. But maybe, just maybe, flip-flops are actually the cure. I’m going to give it two more weeks, fully exposing my feet to the elements, just in case.
Monday Munchies: Macaroni and Cheese!
Despite being hopeless in the kitchen, I’ve been loving it up lately. I wouldn’t call myself creative, or culinary… in fact, I pride myself in taking really simple and basic “recipes” and adding or substituting ingredients to make myself feel fancy and/or healthier. Usually the former. And no self-respecting chef would consider me fancy.
That disclaimer aside, you have to try this. I made Annie’s whole grain, white cheddar, mac and cheese shells, and added steamed broccoli and Trader Joe’s chicken andouille sausage. Instead of eating the whole pot of mac and cheese in one sitting (anyone who says they can withstand is a liar), I filled up way faster AND it was actually delicious. And fancy. And maybe healthy. Plus, the leftovers made the end of a 4-hour Barbri lecture just a little bit better, and not many things can make me say that.