Time ...

Sometimes I stop and think about life. Like today, when I got goosebumps at seven-year-old speeches that I remember hearing, never imagining where I would be rereading them. Or like tonight, in the car listening to "Time to Say Goodbye," remembering it nearly one year ago, tears streaming down my face as I slowly, in the rain, drove away from the Downington days in a car so full I could not see out the back window. Or like now, reading a little yellow card from my jar. This particular card wonders what the heck is going to happen to us. Whatever it is, I think we'll be fine ...

This Afternoon ...

So I did not get close enough to take this picture, but today, I did get to see Marine One ...

In other cryptic news, I really like work thus far. I think I have mastered the essentials of summer office life, like finding the bathroom (more difficult than I would have imagined ... thank goodness they number the staircases) and taking my cell phone out of my pocket before going through the metal detector. And I like the work itself, too. My 10- or 11-hour days really fly by ...

Today ...

The More Things Change ...

The more they stay the same ...

From The Bostonians, written by Henry James and published in 1886:
"His state of mind is one thing and mine is another. How can I marry every man that hangs about me -- that dogs my footsteps? I might as well become a Mormon at once!"

From a blog quoted in the "Blog Log" of the Washington Post Express, published May 19, 2008: "How do they do it? How does the Mormon Church get a couple of prime years of a boy's life to go out and be a missionary either here or abroad?"

Just Like Sushi ...

I dislike sushi. I tried and tried to like it, and nearly succeeded once on a really good date, but in the end, I decided to give it up and embrace that I will never be trendy enough to eat the raw fish. And I will never be tough enough to actually enjoy running. Today I decided that if I cannot like running in absolutely perfect weather, with a view of the Capitol in one direction and a view of the Washington Monument in the other, I am really never going to like it, and I should give up the attempt. Luckily I realized this early on in my quest today, and only ran a grand total of three museum building lengths feeling completely ridiculous in my shorts, exhibiting my pasty legs amidst the hordes of tourists. Then I walked. And enjoyed myself, might I add. Really, a person cannot really enjoy tourist-gazing while running. But walking, I got a good look at the obnoxious school groups, the girls posing in front of the Washington Monument, the women petting the police officer's horse, and the teenager annoyed at her mother for looking at said horses. And the old man who evidently likes running, since he passed me twice ...

Back Again ...

I made it back to D.C. with a renewed appreciation for my shampoo and fresh clothing, after a longer-than-planned layover in Denver, where I spent the night in a hotel, got a voucher for a free flight, and saw my friend A. and her cute baby. I am glad to be back, although I will (of course) miss all the usual suspects: the cutest neighbors on the planet, Sunday dinners with my family, talking with the girls, having my purchases approved by my sister, Cafe Rio with the banker girls, relaxing in the hot tub, arguing with my brother, and the like ...

100th Post ...

For my 100th Post, I have compiled a lovely assortment of scintillating thoughts and photos about my life over the past week. Ooh. Ahh. I know, what a treat. So enjoy.

First, I learned today that if I only held my tennis racket differently, my dating life would improve. (Really, younger brothers provide such fascinating wisdom. Evidently the way I actually play tennis matters not at all, only that I approach it with gusto. Which evidently shows by the way I hold a racket. And all boys apparently notice this. Interesting.) I have no photo to document this life lesson. (Obviously. I certainly cannot risk showing this fault and ruining any chance of a handsome blog stalker falling in love with me via blog.)

My sister made the most fabulous breakfast on Mother's Day. The syrup ... oh, the deliciousness of the syrup. (An analogy: This syrup is to regular syrup what Cafe Rio salad dressing is to regular salad dressing. It is that good. And speaking of Rio, I went there. With my friends from the bank. And we saw the very attractive Kyle Korver. What could be better?!)

I got bangs. Anne Hathaway bangs, hopefully. We will see how much they like the humidity.

I saw the London girls! But I forgot my camera, so I found this one in my London album. (One of few normal photos. The rest mainly consisted of T. and me posing strangely, with me always wearing The Yellow Hat.)

K. came to town, too, so the old roommate gang (minus H., unfortunately) reunited and had a fabulous weekend of playing and eating and laughing. At dinner, K. even acquired an admirer who won her a stuffed Donald Duck, complete with his phone number on it. We subsequently debated the merits of this approach.

Having fun with the camera ... and talking and doing nothing, just the way we like it ...

Harry Potter Times ...

I really have nothing to report here. But I am sick of seeing eye shadow and a ridiculously long post that ends with me promising to wear makeup, so here I am. But really. Nothing to report, since I really do nothing except eat, watch movies, read and shop. And I like it that way. For example, I still really love Harry Potter. I read Book 7 yesterday. And I really, really love it. What I do not love: Reading the new Mormon Times section of the Deseret (not Morning) News. It is much, much worse in newsprint than online, and I really, really hate it. The articles all embarrass me, as a self-respecting former pseudo journalist, and make me want to remove the line on my resume about my internship with the D-News. NOTE TO ALL FUTURE EMPLOYERS: When I associated myself with that publication it did not blatantly declare itself to be only for Mormons. Like every other regular newspaper, it pretended it did not give special treatment to its owners, even when it did. OK, outburst over. On to Harry Potter Book 6 ...

What Law School Did Not Teach Me ...

I learned many, many things during my first year of law school. Things like the definitions of ancient Latin legal terms and when to sue the government for taking property. But I did not learn the really useful things, like how to transfer eyeshadow from a pot to a palette. That task required serious research, some experimentation, and a band-aid.

Obviously, this story requires background. (Warning: LONG rambling post ahead.) So, yesterday I finally finished my finals. Hooray! But, unfortunately, this means I no longer have an excuse for leaving the house without doing my hair and without wearing any makeup. (I wish I could say I am exaggerating this confession. But besides getting ready for church, my personal hygiene in the past month has been laughable at best.)

Finishing my finals also means I will be going home for a week and seeing people I know, which motivates me to at least attempt to look presentable. Which requires makeup. To make this fact seem more exciting, and to make it easier to pack my vast (cough cough) amounts of makeup, I bought two little EMPTY eyeshadow palettes. I foolishly thought it would be simple to take my old eye shadows out of their containers and put them in the palette.

Two phone calls, one Google search, 29 YouTube videos, one ruined eye shadow, one pair of tweezers, one peppermint candle and one hour later, I finished the task. (No, I did not watch all 29 YouTube videos on the topic of "repotting MAC eyeshadow." I only watched two. And yes, I did roll my eyes at the overly groomed girls who filmed themselves carefully assembling their tools and heating their eyeshadow case over a candle to melt the glue that makes the eye shadows stick in their containers. But then I stopped laughing and actually tried it. And it worked.)

But now I am too tired to pack my clothes. So, friends, when you see me for the first time in four months, do not look at my clothes, which will likely be unwashed, unmatching, and completely out of style. Just focus on my bloodshot eyes. Because I will definitely be wearing eye shadow ...