Grateful.

Y'all, I am so damn grateful.

My husband and I, the sometimes amazing, always ridiculous K., are about to land on the other side of the Florida Bar Exam.  Hallelujah.  Halle-fuckin-lujah.

He asked me last night, after the first day, if I would be mad if he had to take the exam again.  He didn't understand why I laughed hysterically.  1) I legitimately believe he's going to pass the exam.  2) He would be willing to take it again!  AWESOME.  My husband is  stepping up.

When I dropped him off at the test site on Tuesday (and a little bit this morning), I cried.  I was so proud.  My husband made a pledge and is living up to it.  And he was ready - he took preparation seriously.

And I am so grateful.  To the friends who heard me bitch about the Bar Exam.  To my family who supported us with love and emails and phone calls. 

To my husband, whom I believe in, again. Not because he's going to pass the Bar Exam (and he is), but because he took the damn thing.

Calm? I got your...

calm right here!

Yeah, we're T-minus hours until the Florida Bar Exam. And while I had the good sense to avoid a manicure (yes, I'm still a nail biter), I did not have the good sense to avoid a hair cut. I am now the proud owner of a disastrous new 'do that makes me look a lot like the Church Lady.

K. remains a bastion of calmness. He's been listening to BarBri on hyper-speed, and regurgitating information about Florida Homestead exemptions and evidence exceptions. He's sleeping soundly. And on Friday, he looked at me and said, "This is all coming together." Well gee, babe, I sure hope so.

I'm nervous - but not absurdly nervous. Appropriately nervous. And aside from the r e a l l y awful situation on top of my head, I am excited about driving to Tampa tomorrow. I am thrilled that my incredibly smart husband is here. At this spot. Ready. Prepared. He amazes me.

Gram, this is for you.

I never took a real spring break. Well, maybe "traditional" is a better word. I spent my spring breaks with my Gram in Punta Gorda, FL. It was great. We'd tool around in her best friend's golf cart. We'd play cards and eat pretzels with peanut butter. We'd drink highballs and sit in the sun and visit the weird and random around her community. We'd volunteer at her church. Those weeks were some of the best memories I have of my Grammi. I wish I had been able to do it as an adult -- or at least apologize for the stubborn, hard-headedness of my collegiate youth.

In addition to spending quality Grammi time, we'd go shopping. Gram, who hated shopping for herself, would encourage me to wear teal capris and sweetheart necklines. Never black. (I looked like death warmed over in black). I loved it. And I learned that sometimes, even though a t-shirt and jeans would make me more comfortable, sometimes the situation warrants a little more.

So next week, I'm wearing bright colors. I'm wearing a sweetheart neckline. I'll be wearing lipstick (which is also due to my mother's influence: always wear lipstick when you need to feel happy). And when I have lunch with Grammi's sister and brother-in-law (my favorite great aunt and uncle), I promise not to wear black.

I never had braces.

But that hasn't stopped me from tearing up at the iPhone commercial featuring a young tween and her dad. At the ad, the dad says, "You look beautiful." Oh people, do I lose it at that moment. Almost as much as the "faces" ad that features the soldier finding out he's going to be a father. Oh, Apple! You trixster!

If you haven't seen the ad, here it is:

Sunday Travel v5, among other things...

It's the Fourth of July - go eat some ribs, drink some cold beer and light a few (legal) firecrackers.  Do it for me.  Do it for your country.

If I were traveling this weekend - which is a big if because I consider the Fourth of July one of the several holidays a year that call to the amateurs, New Years Eve being another example.  Well, since this is all imaginary anyway, let's go camping.  Yes, I said it - camping.  A tent, a cooler, some charcoal -- y'all, pack the bug spray.

We're heading up to Unicoi State Park, near Helen, GA. [Sidenote: if you've never been to Helen, you should go.  Deliciously cheesy, even the trash cans look like little German boys and girls.  It's Heidi Takes Gatlinburg.]

Unicoi State Park is a gorgeous state park - and whatever you want to do, they have it available.  I'll be planning some cowboy food and my Marlboro Ranch skillet will finally make an appearance.  There will definitely be s'mores.

And tubing.  We'll go tubing down the Chattahoochee River.  Which ohmygoodness is a lot of fun.  And I'm going to drag K. to the Cabbage Patch Hospital, only to see him beg to stay in the car.  So, no joke - we used to go there as kids.  It looks a lot different, but the whole Mother Cabbage in labor thing?  My brother and I used to LOVE it.

Camping, swimming, tubing - maybe even a little fishing?  Who knows?  It will be a lovely weekend, in the cool northern mountains of Georgia.  And K. can't handle the tent?  We'll def. stay in one of these: barrel cabins.

29+

Driving back and forth between work, I often listen to NPR.  I almost always learn something new.  It's like opting for a salad instead of a double pounder; sure, I could jam out in the morning, but I prefer the refreshing taste of interesting news.

Tonight, after a longer-than-necessary stop at the grocery store, I heard about Cassie Boorn (cassieboorn.com) (a 22 year old! gasp!) who collected letters written to 20-something selves.  You can read her letter here or read about the project here.  I loved the idea of it, even though I have yet to escape my twenties.  One of my friends calls them the "twenty-stupids" and I think he's very accurate.

Clearly, this is my favorite from Maggie Mason at Mighty Girl:
"Thank you for working so hard to put yourself through school. Thank you for eating potato chips for breakfast while you still can. Thank you for wearing the tight dress. And shut up — your ass looks amazing." 

Nearly six months away from trading up to the next decade, there are things I wish I knew earlier: the taurus was a fine car, rum was never my friend and maybe I should have taken a marketing class or twelve.  But, like Cassie writes - if I had been able to avoid any or all of these mistakes (dude, the credit card debt alone!) then I wouldn't be me now.

And I like me.  Spoiler alert: I like the person I am becoming.  I think once I get to 30 (or 35 or 95) I might still write the letter.  I'm hoping that I make it to 35, liking myself as much as I do now.  All the while retaining the lessons learned (please!).

a weekend at home (sunday travel v4)

After several weekends "away," I thought it was time for an at-home weekend.  There's nothing like staying in after running around like a chicken.

Don't worry though folks -- next week will be lovely.  It's the Fourth of July, after all!

wanted: 3/2 dream house (err, starter home)

As if there wasn't enough going on - what with Mr. Bar Bri droning during waking hours - K. started looking at houses.

Holy Squash!  The man who thought he wanted to rent for the REST OF HIS LIFE is sending me MLS listings?  Shut the front door!  It's super exciting and I got swept up into it and he got swept into it and suddenly we were looking at square footage and property taxes and starting to look for a mortgage broker.

Qualifying for a home, all on my own, wasn't something I expected.  Dude.  Seriously, me?  Are you sure?  And that's when it became just a little too much: a little too real.

So the house hunt?  It's on pause.  I can only do one major life thing at a time, and until September when results come out, it's all about the Bar Exam.  And all about the fabulous things happening in my career.  (Hopefully, soon I'll be able to share one of them).

Am I still browsing the MLS listings?  Yes. 
Are we signing another year-long lease?  No. 
Am I nervous as hell?  Definitely. 
Is this exciting?  Absolutely. 

Hours?

Hahahhahhahaaaaaa.
I totally meant days -- 36 days till the Bar Exam.

WOW.  Talk about wishful thinking.

Sunday Travel 3

I hate to say it... but I almost don't need imaginary travel this weekend.  It was an incredibly pleasant two-day break here in the bend. And while I feel like I need gills in order to breathe in the humidity, I haven't done a lick of work.  And it's been utterly fantastic.

But...  I'm committed to my weekend trips.  I hear New York and Boston calling my name, but I think instead we'll head over to Amelia Island.  It's been a while since I've seen the Atlantic, and there are some fabulous B&Bs I'd like to try out.  Like this one, or maybe this one, or perhaps...  this one.  Yup, it will be lovely and lush.

I'm thinking maybe a kayak trip around the old fort, some beach time, some time without a care in the world...  Well, except to make our reservation at Salt over at the Ritz Carlton.  And the french place - the one with duck seven ways?  Who even know you could do duck seven different ways.

I think we need a weekend of nothing but gorgeous linens and sunshine.  It's 36 hours till the Bar...  I cannot wait.

Sunday Travel 2

After spending a day at the beach yesterday, I think this week's plan must center on spending some more time on the coast.  So, let's plan a weekend away at the Coombs House Inn, yes?  I think we'll take the Biltmore suite -- so we can take George too.  (Dude, the dog loves the beach).


It's summer, so we'll skip the oysters at Boss Oyster, but still take advantage of the still-safe seafood.  Instead... I'm thinking the Owl Cafe.  You know, I've never been.


And then there's the beach.  Driving over to St. George Island, we'll rent two kayaks and paddle around for a while.  Once K. gets tired, we'll put up our umbrella, dig in the sand and fall asleep with the soft sound of the gulf.


I'd like to finally make it Petunia's this time -- and find something unique for George.  I am craving fried shrimp, more sun and smell of sunscreen.  And we only have a few weekends left before the oil comes.  Lovely.

BEACH!

So, I'm kidnapping K. and we're headed to the beach.

Y'know, before the oil gets here.  Thanks again, BP for ruining my summer...  for the next ten years.

I've made pressed Cuban sandwiches, the beer and lemonade is packed and I have a perfect beach book: Remembering Blue, by Connie May Fowler.  I first read it the summer of 2004...  and promptly loaned it out to all of my friends.  It's warped from being read on the beach, and the lake, and the boat.  And it's perfect for today.  I hadn't picked it up in a while, but the couple in the book -- one of their first dates was walking around Lake Ella.  Lo and behold, so was mine.

Even though K. is frustrated by the campaign and anxious about the impending Bar Exam, we need a day at the beach.  He needs the water, I need the sun.  We need a day off.  We need a day together.  Hope you have a lovely Saturday too!

On Mr. Greene

Dear South Carolina: WTF.

I mean, seriously.  I could yell and shake my fist at the voters, but really...  Honestly...  Where was the leadership?  Folks who work at 1529 Hampton (whoa, I almost wrote Blanding), where were you?  Obviously asleep in the ergonomic and expertly arranged cubicles.  WAKE UP! 

Screening candidates for things like felony convictions isn't exclusive or rude.  It's good practice, heck, one might even say it's a best practice.  Shhhh, I won't tell.  Run background checks.  It's easy, fast and will save us being the punchline on The Daily Show and leave it for the folks who really need the boost -- the SC GOP.

And also, Mr. Greene: who are you kidding?  This isn't high school.  Do you really feel you could represent the people of South Carolina?  You're not running for Prom King, dude.  You can't string syllables together to make words to make coherent sentences.  Stop the charade now.

Sunday Travel

For the past several years...  I've been fortunate enough to take vacations.  Short, weekend jaunts that sort of help alleviate the drudgery of living in the smallest village in America.  During the summers I think it gets worse because all the students are gone so there's no one to hide behind...  Seriously, you can't blend in.  One trip to the local Publix is more like a fashion show/job interview.

So.  I realize I feel down in the dumps -- not only are we not going anywhere, I don't get to plan anything.  Well, color that little problem fixed.  I can plan just about anything -- especially when I don't need to worry about a budget or vacation time request paperwork.

Chrissy's Imagination Trip #1:
Disney World 
(and no, I'm not even the least bit embarrassed)
(but please return next week when my focus will not be quite so obvious)

Three-Day Weekend...  we'll leave Friday after work and drive down to Orlando.  I prefer to stay on property, so we'll check in to Disney's Yacht Club Resort.  Room service for dinner, obvs...  I've never been to Universal, so I think that's got to be it for Saturday.  A full-on play day.  And Sunday, we'll go to Magic Kingdom because - well, because.  Perhaps dinner at the French place on Sunday night at Epcot, and then Monday we'll slowly make our way back Tallahassee.

Next week?  I'm thinking beach.

How many days?

K., don't read this.  I appreciate that you have me on your feed -- but really, this isn't to guilt you in any way.  So.  Stop.  Reading.  I am going to be super whiny.

HOLY FRENCH TOAST!  It's fifty days until the Bar Exam and I cannot wait.  I simply cannot wait.  So blah, blah, blah I 'm so supportive and I love making snacks and doing all the chores.

Except that I don't.  I don't really like making snacks and doing all the chores.  And I especially don't like the guy who's droning on and on about Florida law.  I knew I could get through a summer.  Well, I thought I could -- but really, let's be honest... this is getting through a year.  I hate (with full fury) that I don't get to leave Tallahassee this summer.  I hate it.

I hate that I don't have cable.  I hate that my husband is so worn out from studying and working that he doesn't have a whole lot of energy left over for me.  I hate that I'm some kind empath for his stress level and that I'm starting to have nightmares about taking the Bar.  I dropped out of law school, gosh darnit.

And I hate that I hate it.  I hate that I've lived through three weeks of it and I already feel like jumping ship.  Does he really need to be a lawyer, I find myself asking...

Yes, yes, and yes.  And I know this is just a moment of weakness.  And boredom.  Because of the cable.  And I know that tomorrow I'll be right as rain.  Or, let's be honest, as right as I'm ever going to be.

The Next Two Months...

I'm working on changing my life.  I've been married three years - and despite some really lovely long weekends, those three years were spent on surviving.  Making it.  I would live every day again, if it meant I arrived here again.  (Maybe with a little less bruising).  Yeah, yeah - I write about that all the time.

The first year I moved to Florida, I spent my time recovering.  It would not be an overstatement to say I learned how to breathe.  I know it's cliche - but hot french toast, it's true.  I arrived in Tallahassee with so much baggage, it took a U-Haul just for my issues.

So, now I'm on year four.  And the next two months are presenting an amazing opportunity.  Will I get bogged down in barbri or Florida Civil Procedure?  Heck no!  I don't have to take the Bar Exam!  Instead, I get to support my husband.  This is an opportunity!

And instead of letting this golden opportunity pass me by, I'm planning on grabbing this thing by the nuts.  (The horns are only good if you plan on being gored).  I'm planning on healthy dinners, and a sparkling clean house, weekly lunch meetings in the sun and becoming the Mayor of the Appalachee YMCA.  Heck yeah.

I wish I was in the UK.

Oh my goodness!  It's Diet Coke NAIL POLISH.  Seriously, I may have just died and gone to heaven.  Of course, it's only available in the UK.  Which is just absolutely ridiculous.  I might have to take a trip to London.  I wonder if I could write it off as a business expense.  Probably not.

Probably just as well. 

Canadians.

I think I could pass for a Canadian.  Other than the fact that I would mispronounce "about" and don't use "eh" in normal conversation.  I bet I look like the vast majority of Canadians.

And that's why this whole immigration legislation in Arizona is bonkers.  I understand that federal actions have left very few options for the citizens of that state.  And I can empathize with families that want to feel safe and secure in their homes.

Nonetheless, the last time we condoned a government asking for papers based on appearance, the world erupted in war.  I realize it might be easy to point to a Hispanic man and wonder if he's "legal."  But what about a blue-eyed blonde?  She could be a Canadian illegal immigrant.  (It's not a joke, it happens.)  Something needs to happen - some solutions need to be reached.

But Arizona, let me tell you: this is not it.
Also, I have nothing against Canadians.  Robin Sparkles, I love you.

Really Charlie?

I obviously need to start writing about my love for Kendrick Meek more.  (Perhaps first, I need to start having some deep feelings about Mr. Meek).  Or I could write a sonnet to Alex Sink or maybe even Rick Minor in his attempt to unseat Periwinkle? 

Why, you ask, do I need to start writing more about Florida Dems?  Because this ad just showed up on my site.  I'm not a Charlie supporter, think it was a bonehead move to go NPA and personally think he's a little slimy and/or drinks too much of his own kool-aid. 

I'm taking it as a good sign that his campaign folks don't know how to do a media buy.

Rabbit, Rabbit.

May, already?  I cannot believe it's MAY.  Here in Florida, the pollen is on its way out (which is reason to throw a PARADE!) and the students are on their way home.  I actually love summer in Tallahassee.  It's quiet, it's slow, it's hot.

I'm headed out to Vegas in a week - the second trip this year.  I believe it will have to make up for the fact that I'm not making it to the Big Apple this summer.  K. will be sitting for the Florida Bar - that's right, finally.  FINALLY, people.  It's good news all around - if only I could work remotely from anywhere other than here for the next three months, I'd be ecstatic.  As it stands, we're working out the details of how to get through both of us working and him studying for the test.  I know it won't go smoothly -- where's the fun in that, but I do think it will go better than the catastrophic scenarios running through my head.

I'm thinking about what to say about Charlie Crist and all the Republican ridiculousness.  Ehhh.  It's mostly already been said.  Florida's governor is toast.  And it's a shame - I've been doing some work on a project about the history of Florida.  Believe it or not, Florida's history is actually really interesting.  Go figure.