My Initials Should Be D.I.Y.

I know, I know, it has been a long time since I've blogged. Now I'm back and have a renewed commitment to my role as a blogger. The good news is that I have many months of things to blog about. This one had to be divided into two posts because it was way too long. I'll post the second part next Friday-ish. 


In the months since you last heard from me, one of the many things I've experienced is the fall of my refrigerator. The fridge was purchased when our house was built, sometime around 2002. It did its thing without any problems until a few months ago. My fridge slowly started freezing the items in the refrigerator. Eventually we called a repairman who came out, looked at the fridge, said he had to order a part, came back and installed the part, and $500 later the fridge was no longer freezing food. End of story? Nope. The next day I came home to Lake Villanueva in my kitchen. The fridge was leaking. Of course, like the freezing issue, it leaks slowly so once I clean up the water it appears the problem is fixed. Not so. Finally, my husband decides to just turn off the water that goes to the fridge. I ask him if he wouldn't mind looking inside the fridge and maybe at the back so it at least looks like he's trying to fix it. I even suggest he get a tape measure like he does when he's fixing things around the house. Then just tell me it's the mass spectrometer or flux capacitor or something technical-sounding and I'll feel much better. So he does those things and tells me the thing around the water filter cracked when everything froze and now it leaks. Makes sense to me so I suggest he call the repairman to fix it. Then comes the bad news – he tells me he doesn't want to spend any more money on the fridge and that we can do without filtered water and ice. What? I want filtered water and ice. I plead my case but he doesn't budge. So I decide to buy lots of bottled water. Expensive bottled water. I'm sure eventually he will figure out that it is less expensive in the long run to just get the fridge repaired. He doesn't. So weeks go by and I finally ask him what I can do to make sure I have nice cold, refreshing water to drink. He tells me I can turn on the faucet. Ugh. Then I get this brilliant idea to see if I can buy the replacement part. That way we only have to pay for the repairman to install it and not the extra amount they mark up the parts to make a bigger profit. Why didn't I think of this before? So I Google away and before long I have located the part. I can buy a brand new water filter housing and assembly for only $32 with shipping. Sold. At this point I'm feeling extremely proud of myself. When my husband arrives home that evening I mention that I ordered the part for the refrigerator. First he expresses doubt that I knew how to order the correct part and then he says "What are you going to do with it? You can't repair it yourself. You don't know how." Whoa. Did he just say I can't repair the fridge? True, I've never had the desire for major appliance repair, but that in no way means I don't have the capability. I have 5-7 business days to figure out what to do with a Frigidaire water filter housing and assembly, and boy am I thirsty.

Bad Socks and The Women Who Wear Them

Dear Santa,

There is something you don't know and I think it is time to get it out in the open. It was only a few years ago that I could not have imagined a blanket with sleeves, a coat with a hood was merely a dream. You're almost too good to be true and I think you might be our only hope, so here it is, Santa.


We women have very low standards when it comes to socks. Sure, many of us look like we have it all together, but you'd have heartburn in your bowlful of jelly if you knew what was lurking beneath our Cole Haans. We simply put up with way too much when it comes to our socks. You would be appalled if you knew the condition of some of the socks I've allowed on my feet. There are many nice, normal women walking around in decent clothing. Little do you know that underneath those black pants with the perfect crease she's wearing the only two dark socks she could find with holes in the toes and the heels worn thin. All day she walks around with a smile on her face, hiding the fear inside that she might sit down and cross her legs, revealing just how hard it is to tell the difference between black and navy blue at 6am in a dimly lit room. Heaven forbid she didn't do the laundry and had to wear her "last resort" socks. You know, the bottom-feeders in the drawer that you only wear when nothing else is clean.


Let me tell you about women's black socks. The first problem is that there is pretty much only one size. Yes, you heard me right. One size. They don't always call them One Size Fits All, instead they trick us by saying size 9-11. What does that mean? Nothing. Nada. The package will tell you that size 9-11 fits shoe sizes 4-10. Everyone I know wears a size between 4 and 10. What makes this most illogical is that we put two things on each foot – a sock and a shoe. The shoe comes in a variety of sizes, even half sizes, but the sock is size 9-11. Remember, this is the same foot I'm putting into my one size fits all sock and then my perfectly sized 7 shoe. Logical? Nope. The result for those of us on the lower end of the 4-10 (AKA 9-11) is the lovely heel flap. This is the part of the sock meant for the heel, but on a smaller foot it just ends up sticking out the back of your tennis shoe like a seatbelt caught in a car door. I'd assume that for those on the 10 end of the spectrum the heel flap makes a lovely home in the arch of the foot. My question is why? We seem to be able to make all other items of clothing in a variety of sizes, so is the sock that much of challenge? I'll bring you to problem number 2. The top of the sock. Nevermind the challenge of the height of the sock, if that were to work out it would be like winning the lottery. This is more like asking for change for the parking meter. I bought some Boot Socks the other day and when I put them on they went all the way over my knees. Why not just call them Almost Pants? Then I would have known what I was getting. For someone taller, however, these could have been ankle socks. Of course, we'd both wear the same size. There are two different types of sock tops. There is the "comfort band" sock that starts out somewhere on your calf and migrates south to make a nice little home around your ankle by the end of the day. The other kind is the "stay put" sock top that doesn't slip down your ankle. Instead, it stays in one place and when you take off your socks at the end of the day it's a little like cutting the string off a fresh turkey. The sock comes off, but the impression left by the elastic noose remains.


Can you imagine if we settled for other items of clothing the way we settle for socks? All of us walking around all day with pants that don't fit, holes in various places, the seat of our pants worn thin. Some would have waistbands up to their neck, others would be stuffed into trousers that only come up to mid-thigh. Then, around noon our pants would slowly start falling down so by 2:00 in the afternoon we'd all be walking around with our pants around our ankles. No big deal. That's good enough for us. Look at our lovely selection of shirts and sweaters. They come in one size, we call it "0-24". The shirts might be down your knees or barely reach your belly button. But wait, the jackets come in a variety of sizes, half-sizes even. If I did a load of laundry and my pants were missing when I took everything out of the dryer, I would be perplexed, irate, scared. Not the socks, they can go AWOL and we don't even think twice about it. You know what else we don't think twice about? Throwing away the other sock. Its mate took off at some point between rinse and fluff, left its twin flying solo and we stick the loner back in the drawer. In hopes that the prodigal sock will one day return? Hasn't happened to me yet. Although if you saw my sock drawer, you'd know I haven't given up hope. Every so often you encounter the brave sock that decides to hitch a ride in your pant leg then make a grand escape attempt as you're walking down the hall. It never works, I (almost)always catch it.


You're probably asking the same question I am – why do the nice girls always end up with the bad socks? I wish I knew the answer, Santa. I do know this - it's time for a change. We deserve a sock that fits us right and as for me, I'm saving my feet until the right sock comes along. You let me know when it's ready, Santa.

That is so 2009

Well, the holidays are here and we all know what that means. It means lots of those nice little Christmas cards with the family photo from summer vacation. I love, love, love getting these Christmas cards. What a great idea in the middle of winter to remind everyone of what you looked like a few months ago. Remember? I was tan and happy, my sun-kissed hair was blowing in the wind. I don't know about you, but December just doesn't look good on me. It kind of washes me out. The photo cards are great. If I ever planned anything ahead of time, I would send Christmas cards too. Unfortunately, whenever I try they turn into February cards which just aren't as cool. Especially when they say "Happy Holidays" on them. Then there are those people who not only plan ahead and get the cards sent, but they get the little 2009 family update letter finished too. You know the one that talks about the joys and losses of the past year. I thought I'd try that, so here's my 2009 Christmas Letter:


2009 was a good year. It brought many new things, along with some losses. Mostly, things just stayed the same. Same husband, same house, same dog. Same school, same church, same job. Same psychiatrist, dentist, housekeeper, and hairdresser (I know, same haircut too). Same face wash. Same bra size. Same monthly lecture from my husband about not giving him receipts so he can balance the checkbook. Same problem with the garage door not closing on sunny days, same spam email about my long lost relative in Nigeria who tragically died in a bike accident and left me a fortune. Same thing happened in Syria and Russia. Same financially challenged man I see every morning on the way to work on the same street corner who "needs mony 4 fud." Same membership to the gym where I still don't work out. Same favorite movie, Legally Blonde. Still cry every time I watch it. Still wait until the last minute to get my assignments turned in. Still tell myself I won't procrastinate next time. Still can't figure out why there are so many different settings on my windshield wipers, yet they only go two speeds - fast or slow. 

There were some losses in 2009. Among them Without A Trace, Yoplait Custard-Style yogurt, the button on my favorite denim skirt, and my dog's tooth. Along with the 26.25 hours I spent taking final exams, and way too many hours of sleep. Also said goodbye to Vaseline Heal & Repair Balm (even though the package said NEW on it which led me to believe it would be around awhile). Lost a few episodes of Bones as a result of a full DVR, my other favorite blue pen because I swear there were two in the package, and the plant on the window sill in the kitchen (Rest in Peace, Dieffenbachia). Also lost that little plastic protective piece that goes on the end of my ipod adapter. Can't find it anywhere.


On a happier note, 2009 brought many blessings. Most obviously a black coat with a hood and a blanket with sleeves. I am very fortunate to have both of these in my life. Also got central air conditioning, a new car, and a few new pairs of black boots. Renewed my Costco membership. Added green tea to my life, not to mention the best travel tea mug ever. Got a few new wrinkles, a new mascara, and a couple new pairs of jeans. New TV show, The Good Wife, to distract me when I'm supposed to be studying. I have a new bank too, but the bank changed, I didn't. Most importantly, I made new friends and a ton of new memories. I learned new lessons, like I'm too old for all-nighters and that some people ride their bike because they want to, not because they can't afford a car. I also learned that some people don't like to wear coats with hoods because it messes up their hair. Who knew? I learned that it's okay if some days, on the way to work, I envy the street sweeper. And that there are people who envy me because I get to go to work. I've learned that life is too short to eat vegan cookies, no matter how much frosting they have on top. I learned how to raise and lower the chairs in the library (finally! for a while, I could only make them go up and not down). I realized that I have the world's coolest grandpa who makes me think that maybe life begins at 90. I learned that I'll probably always be running five minutes late, but at least I can smile when I get there :)


So here's to 2010. May the losses be few, the joys be many, and the good stuff stay the same. And may I find the little plastic protective piece for my ipod adapter.

Changing the World, One Primal Strip at a Time

Ever since that lovely day in February when I found my coat with a good, I've had a renewed faith that anything is possible. This was reinforced by my discovery of the Snuggie. You could say that I wear my rose-colored glasses more often these days (only if they match my outfit, of course). I'm not the type to write letters to my congressman or stand on the street corner by the downtown Nordstrom's soliciting signatures for a petition. Occasionally, however, something will compel me to take action for change. I recently encountered a small problem with the packaging of a favorite snack food. We all know it is never a good idea to come between me and my food. I made a choice to quit buying this snack food because I simply couldn't open the package. Then, I remembered my beautiful coat-plus-hood and sent the following email to the snack food company:

Dear Primal Spirit Foods,

I discovered your yummy Primal Strips about one year ago when I was introduced to them by a friend. I am a law student and am in class for hours at a time. Your Primal Strips were the perfect snack for me to eat in the car, on the way to class, and during class. I have shared my love of Primal Strips with others as well and now there are quite a few of us who have relied on the meatless jerky to get us through hours of boring lectures and endless nights studying in the library.

A recent trip to the grocery store (Market of Choice in Portland, OR) surprised me with a new look for the Primal Strips. I was impressed by a new, bright, and eye-catching package. I arrived at class the other day with my books and Primal Strips in tow. The professor went off on some tangent, my stomach growled, and I reached for some meatless jerky. I opened the first layer of packaging like an old pro, but something happened when I attempted to penetrate the final layer of plastic. I tugged and yanked, used my teeth and all my strength, but I could not open the Primal Strip. There, between me and my jerky, was a thick impermeable layer of biodegradable plastic. I tried everything I could think of, but eventually accepted that nothing short of a sharp pair of scissors could unite me and my Primal Strip. Gone was my quick, easy, protein-filled snack.

I think your new package is quite visually appealing. However, I beg you to please reconsider the security of the packaging and find a solution that allows me to enjoy my meatless jerky like I once did. Sadly, my law school peers and I must find another hunger solution. We will hold out hope that someday our Primal Strips will once again be easily accessible. I request a packaging modification on behalf of all Primal Strips lovers without ready access to sharp scissors.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Kimberly

I was impressed when I received the following response only 12 hours later. It read:

Hi Kimberly

Sorry about your bad experiences with our packaging....the main idea of switching to our new packaging system was to make to the opening process much easier.....

So far, our manufacture has not been able to accomplish the results that they had promised.....we are hoping to have a workable solution before the end of the year. Thanks for taking the time to communicate your experience. Thanks for your support.

We are making plans to have an "easy to open" single package available later this year....because we do not use preservatives we must package the jerky when it is very hot and bacteria free...these requirements have give us many difficulties.


Please accept our sincere apology.

Best wishes
John T West
Pres/CEO
Primal spirit Foods, Inc.

I've gotta say, whether or not the company actually makes a change, at least they made me feel like I matter as a customer. It almost makes me want to carry around a pair of sharp scissors (to open the meatless jerky, of course). As much as I want my easily accessible Primal Strips, I want you all to know that you too can make a difference. Sign a petition, write your local politician, send an email to your favorite snack food CEO. Meatless jerky today, world peace tomorrow.

Taxi!

Every woman hates swimsuit shopping. Except maybe those few who are a perfect size 6 and everything fits them perfectly. If that is you, we all secretly hate you (don't worry, we'll always be nice to your face). There is one thing worse than swimsuit shopping and that is swimsuit shopping with a man (rule #1). I made this unfortunate mistake before leaving on a recent vacation. Swimsuit shopping rule #2 is never go when you actually need to buy a swimsuit or are working against a deadline. You will find yourself squeezing into a top that is two sizes too small and trying to hold up some bottoms that are two sizes too big because they happened to be the only two pieces that matched on the sale rack. This is never a pretty picture. My hope is that you learn from my mistakes. I made mistake #1 and mistake #2 at the same time. First, I only asked my husband if he wanted to go shopping with me because I really just didn't feel like driving. If a taxi or city bus had pulled up in front of my house, I would have hitched a ride. That didn't happen so I settled for a husband-chauffeur. The difference is that a chauffeur waits in the car and doesn't say a word about what you buy. A husband does not. Fortunately, the husband is trainable. Unfortunately, I had to be the one to train him. There are some fundamental rules of swimsuit shopping that men need to learn. They are:

#1. Do not make suggestions. You are not supposed to have an opinion.

This is hard to teach. In the first store we stopped at, Husband-Chauffeur thought he was supposed to help me shop. He pointed to a white, crocheted, bikini and suggested I try it on. When I refused, he asked me why. Why? Because it is white, made of yarn, and smaller than the potholder I knitted at Brownie camp in 3^rd grade. His second suggestion was refuted with an explanation of my bikini top minimum padding requirements. A blank stare was all I got in return.

#2. It doesn't matter how many swimsuits I already have.

Throughout the day, Husband-Chauffeur repeatedly commented about the fact that I already have a swimsuit. "Don't you already have a swimsuit? Why do you need another one?" he says. "Didn't you eat dinner yesterday? Why do you need to eat again today?" I reply. I finally tell him that I don't have a swimsuit at home (maybe I did, but not any I like). As he took a seat in the man-chair by the dressing room, I heard him ask the guy sitting next to him (AKA Mr. I've Been Holding This Purse For Two Hours) how many swimsuits women typically have. The two of them attempted to apply logic to the female swimsuit phenomena. This kept them busy for quite some time. I heard them discuss how they each only have one, maybe two, pairs of swim trunks. They don't realize this is only to prevent them from getting confused. When it is hot, you wear pants that only go to your knees. If you want to get wet, wear the pair with the Hawaiian print. If not, wear the khaki pair. Can you handle it? I finally exited the dressing room and Husband-Chauffeur asked if I liked anything I tried on. I told him I did, but for the price of the swimsuit it should come with breast implants and liposuction. He appears worried and tells me that I can't go on vacation without a swimsuit. I tell him not to worry, I have other swimsuits at home I can wear.

Once we completed Swimsuit Shopping 101, I suggested Husband-Chauffeur and his opinion go browse the electronics or men's clothing department. He said "No, I don't really want to." I said "Oh yes you do." I was finally free.

I quickly scan the teenage two-piece section and pass it up for the more focused swimsuits. I start on the "enhancing" rack and grab some "add-a-cup-size" bikini tops. I've decided to hold off on the one piece suits until I reach the "comfort shoe" phase of my life. I'm not quite there yet, but I know it will creep up on me like that one chin hair that suddenly appears out of nowhere (if you don't think you have this chin hair, look again, my friend). When it does, I'll embrace my black one-piece with the attached skirt. Until then, I'll painfully hunt for a bikini. The "add-a-cup-size" bikini top has so much padding I think it meets regulation requirements for a life vest. Guess I won't be needing my Water Wings. However, I might not want to spend my entire vacation floating upright like a foam noodle. I move on. Next I try the push-up bikini tops. Great idea, but I think you are supposed to have something to be pushed up. It's too bad my ribs are exactly where I want them. I decide to follow the rainbow to store #2. It appears the new styles in swimwear involve a lot of metal beading and decoration. Is this supposed to be an IQ test? Maybe a white, crochet, bikini is meant to be worn indoors, but most people I know wear swimsuits outside when it is hot. I'm no scientist, but I've put on my seatbelt on a hot day a time or two and I assure you that metal gets very hot in the sun. The last thing I need is a third degree burn shaped like a metal hoop in the middle of my add-a-cup-size life vest to give me that summer glow. Perhaps the pot o' gold is at store #3. I barely get inside when Husband-Chauffeur calls and says he found a swimsuit for me. He tells me in which store he made this wonderful discovery and adds " a lot of younger girls shop here, so the swimsuits probably have a lot of padding." Hmmm. How much is a bus ticket, again? I suppose I could go buy some comfortable shoes and just walk home….

2L is the new black (my version of Hello Muddah, Hello Fuddah)

Goodbye Law School, Goodbye 1L
Now I’m down to my last brain cell
My exams are all completed
But I fear my social skills have been deleted

Legal Research, I Google statutes
Don't use Westlaw[1] for finding lawsuits
So long Lexis[2], I don't need ya
Everything I need to know is on Wikipedia

The acronym’s what lawyers dream of
But the footnote is their true love
You better cite it, if you state it
And if all else fails at least abbreviate it

Legal Writing, made me tired
Wrote lots of memos, as required
One thing continues to evade us
And that's why something called a "brief" is thirty pages

So long, Con Law[3], we spent hours
On enumerated powers
Thanks to you, Mister Marbury
To "say what the law is"[4] is for the judiciary

Reading the Supreme Court's interpretation
Of questionable legislation
New words they’re constantly inventing[5]
And why is Justice Scalia always dissenting?

Offer, Acceptance, Consideration[6]
Contracts - my Friday night obligation
We type - Prof lectures from the casebook
He doesn't know we're really messaging on Facebook[7]

Goodbye Civ Pro[8] - you make me weary
Jurisdiction, the doctrine of Erie[9]
My final test may not be perfect
So for my grade I move for a directed verdict

Bye “Hotel Boley[10]” (that’s the name I chose)
‘Cuz most guests are reading with their eyes closed
Try reading caselaw, before you judge me
And you too will soon be dreaming of your Snuggie

Black Student Union, See ya in September
From your one Caucasian member
With Latino Law[11] you’re not competing
But if you’d serve tacos I might actually attend a meeting

Summer will fly by and soon I’ll be back
I hear 2L is the new black
Again I’ll do it, in true “Kim” style
Casebook in hand, in three-inch heels and with a smile :)




[1] Westlaw is one of the primary online legal research services for lawyers and legal professionals in the United States . http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westlaw
[2] LexisNexis is a popular searchable archive of content from newspapers, magazines, legal documents and other printed sources. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LexisNexis
[3] Like I said, if there isn’t an acronym you must abbreviate. Con Law is short for Constitutional Law.
[4] Marbury v. Madison , 5 U.S. 137, 177 (U.S. 1803)
[5]Most of these my spellcheck doesn’t know including justiciability, appealability, forseeability, unconscionability, tortfeasors, tortious, and many others.
[6] The three elements of a contract
[7] If you don’t know what Facebook is, you’ve been spending way too much time reading things with footnotes.
[8] Abbreviation for Civil Procedure, a required class for all 1Ls to learn the rules of court. I suppose if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.
[9] Boring stuff we learned about in Civ Pro. Basically, if you have a case in federal court between citizens of two different states this is what tells you which jurisdiction’s laws to apply blah blah blah.
[10]This is what I call the Boley Law Library
[11] Latino Law Society. I’m not a member, but I hope to add this to my resume next year. I did receive an invitation to the National Latino Law Student Association, but they don’t give out free tacos.

Match Made in Heaven

They say that the best way to find love is to stop looking for it. I mentioned previously that I had suspended my search for a black coat with a hood. Well, I'm pleased to announce that I found such a coat this past weekend. Or I guess I should say it found me. It truly was love at first sight. A thing of beauty -it is black, woolen, and has a hood to make Little Red Riding Hood jealous. I tried it on first, although I knew it was "the one." It fit like a tailored Snuggie with sleeves that took me from monkey to kangaroo. The silk-lining glided over my sweater sleeves like socks on a hardwood floor. Days of shirt sleeves bunched up to my shoulders like football pads would soon be distant memories. Three large buttons fastened me in like a love letter in a self-stick envelope. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

First thing Sunday morning I slipped on that coat like we were old friends. Nevermind that it was 70 degrees and sunny. I headed out to the library with a new found confidence that I could handle any amount of precipitation or air conditioning that might come my way (yes, I went to the library, someone has to make Con Law look good). I wore my coat again today and I don't know how I lived for so long without it. What's that you say? It rained today? Gee, I didn't notice. I was both warm and dry all day long. It looks like you really can have it all. And yes, Santa Claus, there really is a Nordstrom.