I am not a very good at doing nothing.

I am home on sick leave and it is hard for me to resist doing things (there is so much to do around here - laundry, sweeping, taking the trash out - and laying on the couch made me notice that the curtains need to be washed and the ceiling fan needs to be dusted...).  I am resisting.  Because if I do anything, I pass out from exhaustion.  Yesterday a friend came and drove me to a Valentine event for 30 mins at around 10 am.  I came home and collapsed on the couch and slept for over an hour.

Today I am weaning myself off of the pain meds.  I am alternating between reading/napping/tv watching.  I should be enjoying this more...

Friday was rainy.  There were promises of snow.  Lots and lots of snow.  It was coming from Colorado, as it does, and the storm got the nickname Snowmageddon.  This picture popped up on all my local friends' Facebook feeds on Friday as the snow finally came that night.  Along with it came the cancelations.  No speech tournament for Teen I, no debate tournament for Teen II, no Little League registration for Teen III.

As an adult I am really ok with being snowed in.  More than ok.  But the kids were disappointed to miss their activities and somehow thought that I would drive them to their friends' houses or to the sledding hill outside of town.  I was also supposed to believe that my most princess-y child was going to walk a mile in the snow to sled and then walk a mile home.  I forbid her from going.  Mostly because she was not dressed appropriately and would whine and call me and I just wasn't going to deal with it.  "Go read a book or watch a movie.  Just enjoy being snowed in," I said.  We had this conversation as I shoveled out snow from the driveway and I built a huge snowman.  Princess Teen just stood on the porch arguing with me.  My youngest had the best snow days.  He was literally outside all day Saturday and Sunday building snow forts with neighborhood kids.  It was perfect snow fort/snow man snow - wet and sticky.

Everything is cleared out and we are all back to business on Monday.  "I don't even get a snow day from school!" the Princess Teen moaned this morning.

Nope.

When I was 4 my mom took me to see the Denver Ballet perform The Nutcracker. My family didn't have a lot of money, but my mom splurged and got good seats because she wanted me to be able to see the dancers. When we got to the ballet we walked in and started towards our seats and when we got to our awesome, close seats, there was a harp in front of us and I couldn't see the stage anyway.

I don't remember any of this. I remember riding home from the ballet in my mom's friend's car and listening to them talk about this. And my mom has told me the whole story from her perspective. It has a bit of family lore to it.

I take my children's performing arts education seriously and I spend money to make sure they get a variety of live experiences. We go to Jazz on the Green, Shakespeare, plays, musicals, opera, etc. I try to find ways to get the best seats possible. So for Shakespeare, for example, I go on my alumni picnic day so that we get reserved seats right in front of the stage. I took them to see the Mozart opera "The Marriage of Figaro" a few years ago and we sat on the Main Floor (which was a first for me) because I bought the tickets on Mozart's birthday when they were running a special. My trick for the Lied, which is where we see touring Broadway shows, is to wait until opening night and pick up what are called "house seat" tickets. These are tickets that were reserved but are not being used. This is not for the faint of heart. You are taking a risk. Sometimes you you don't get a ticket at all, but sometimes you end up with 4th row center seats for a sold out "Avenue Q" and sometimes you're 6th row center for "Spamalot" and sometimes you're in the balcony for "Mama Mia."

I checked with the box office several times that day and yes, it was not going to get better than Right Balcony. "They're good tickets," the kid at the box office assured me.  I tried to convince my spoiled kids of that.

"The balcony?!" my daughter said incredulously.

"All the way up there?!" my son said.

So we made our way to our seats with the Riff Raff (and learned that the coat check in the balcony is Self Serve and no one expects a tip). Live theater is amazing, even from the balcony. We laughed and sang along (my son knows ALL the words to all the Abba songs). The kids got t-shirts and I got a Mama Mia mug.

There was a line to even get on the elevator at the parking garage much less get out. We were parked on the top level, so we went out for frozen yogurt and then afterwards we had no waiting for the elevator or parking garage exit. The top level was empty and the sky opened above us and the City of Lincoln was lit up below us.

"We don't wait in line for an elevator so we can wait in line in our car," Mary said with a goofy-haughty voice.

"You are a Dancing Queen..." sang Frank as he did some dance moves while his sister joined him.

I had the best seats in the house.

There are lots of ways to do this. My Grandma, who is 92 and still goes to work at the Red Cross everyday is an example of the importance of having activities and meaning in your life. It helps keep her young. Physical activity also helps keep you healthy, but to compare my grandmas, the one who walked every day and was careful about what she ate, died of cancer in her 60s. My 92 year old grandma sleeps in until noon or so and starts her day with grits and bacon (a small portion, but still), and has a reasonable portion of meat and vegetables when she gets home from work (she just works in the afternoon). Then she sits in her chair and reads or watches tv until late.

My parents have never been very physically fit (though they have always been about healthy food) and my sister is obese due to diet and no exercise.

I've always been physically active and a healthy eater. Until a couple of years ago when the stress in my life led me to give up running and eat a bunch of crap. I loved my body in my 30s - strong, lean and sexy. I hit my 40s at my highest weight ever - weakening, fat and smiling gamely but not always feeling the sexy. I have slowly gotten back into regular exercise and found some stuff that works for me. And as I am figuring all this out again I started having health problems and will be having a hysterectomy. The statistics for post-hysterectomy weight loss are not great. I am tapping deep right now and insisting, not me.

I signed up for a weight loss competition at the YMCA. A favorite coworker of mine also joined and we compared our fitness level stats. I shared with her that I want to try surfing but that I am worried about the pop up (a push up on the surfboard so that you move to standing). One of my goals is to get stronger so I can try this.  "You can totally do it! It's not hard!" she insisted. And she demonstrated a pop up for me in the hallway of my office in her work clothes.

So Southern California. So age 20s where everything seems possible. So sweet, supportive and yet honest. Why don't I talk to myself like that? I need to more. I started by writing "You can totally do it! It's not hard!" on a post it note and stuck it to my computer monitor.

You can get bed bugs even if you don't have a bed.  A client of mine who lives in a tent under a bridge got them from a blanket that was donated to him.

Sometimes I need to stop being a lawyer and start being Dear Abby.  I listened to a woman's complaints about her neighbor and looked at the log she's been keeping.  "Have you tried talking to her?" "No, I don't know her."  "Ok, so how about you go up sometime when everything is quiet and you're in a good mood and introduce yourself and tell her that you think you two got off on the wrong foot and you'd like to start over." "I hadn't thought of that," she said carefully.

Also, I have many, many, many reasons to be grateful.

I was sitting in the teacher's lounge at my alma mater when a nice young kid (20 years old?) sat down next to me and when I looked up at him he gestured at my Kindle.

"Reading anything good?" he asked.

"I'm reading the Stephen King book about the Kennedy assassination," I said.

"Non-fiction, then?" he said good naturedly.

I searched his face for irony and found none. He just didn't know who Stephen King is.

I was already feeling the space/time continuum weight due to the old school/teacher's lounge/novel about time travel/reading a favorite author of my teenaged years. Oof.

11/22/63 is Stephen King's fictional account of the Kennedy assassination. If you could go back in time and stop the assassination, would you? And what would the effect be? I really liked the book. I have always been a Stephen King fan and there were some parts of this that reminded me why. Some of it is not so good, of course, but it was a fun read and raised some interesting ideas. I am a little obsessed with what it would be like to be Lee Harvey Oswald's daughters, for example.

When people talk about what career path they wish they had taken I usually say, "I wish I had been a librarian."  I worked in libraries in college and law school.  I have always loved libraries and even served on the library board in a small town.

But the job I really wish I had?  I wish I were a reader for a publisher so my JOB would be to read books.  I can't imagine anything better.

My favorite authors are frequently those who write thick books because I need a lot of words.  I read quickly and I need the book to last until my next trip to the library, until the end of my vacation/flight/etc.  I love my Kindle for a lot of reasons, but my favorite thing about it is that I can buy a new book if I am sitting in the van outside football practice and just finished the last one.  I have bought new books while riding as a passenger going down the interstate, while laying on the beach at a lake, while at an airport and in the evening when I am shuttling kids and supervising homework and would not have had time to go to the library or bookstore.  I don't have to stress over making sure that I have enough words.  I can always get more instantly.

Some stupid shit happened at my house this weekend and I have some explaining to do this evening at a parent meeting for one of my son's activities.  I was pretty horrified when I got the call yesterday about my son bringing his bb gun out to show his friends and then the resulting wrestling match involving said gun.  Sigh.  But one thing that literature has given me is perspective.  Kids do lots of really horrible things and grown ups do lots of horrible things and we will all survive this.  There are moms who are going to think I am a horrible, neglectful mother, but they don't know the other shit going on in my life right now and I can only hope that nothing bad ever happens at their house because this feeling of being a bad mom is really horrible.  But, literature (and history) reminds us that there are far worse mothers.  Thank you, literature.  I was upstairs reading (devouring?) 11/22/63 and giggling about Stephen King's description of Lee Harvey Oswald's mother when this all happened at my house.

What is the due date for this copy of perspective?

Frank and I were driving to school this morning (and incidentally, yay, school is back in session!) and on the radio they announced that it was Jimmy Page's birthday today and that he turned 68.

"68!" Frank exclaimed. "And he's still playing the guitar and touring the world."

"Yep," I said.

"Kind of like Grandma and Poppy who went to Ireland for Christmas. They're 68, too. When you're 68 you can tour the world," he observed.

"That's true," I said.

"Ooh, look, a Porsche!" Frank said, and then he was off talking about motors and wheel bases and stylistic observations about the particular model of Porsche next to us on South Street.

I was left reflecting on my son's rather optomistic outlook about what it means to be 68. There was a lot of commentary a couple of years ago as the Rolling Stones were on tour in their 60s. Rock is aging, but I think it bothers older people more than younger people. My son is compeltely fine with old rock and rollers. In fact, he thinks it's cool.

This weekend I was at a debate tournament with my daughter's school. I have been really struck by how similar everything seems to me. The kids are adorable in their suits and earnest in their willingness to please and their desire to win. Many of the same people are around. Several of my fellow debaters are back as fathers of kids who now debate. My coach, a new teacher and coach when I had him, is now at the top of his game coaching-wise. He is well-respected and has earned it. He's friendly and smart and fair - all qualities that he had as a young teacher which have served him well in his career.

I was talking with a friend from high school when my old coach came by and observed, "Lea looks just like she did in high school." The comment caught me by surprise, but it was a nice compliment. I don't feel like the same person. I am heavier and greyer and more cynical. I think that changes are more obvious to the individual than they are to everyone else. I look in the mirror these days and see my mother's face when she was 41, but when I look at my mother I don't think I see her as she is now; somehow my brain has not allowed that aging to occur yet. And really, it is that trick of the brain, to see someone as they were, that allows us to love Jimmy Page at 68.

I have ongoing litigation with Enormobank who tried to foreclose on my client's home.  There are a multitude of loan servicing issues and the purchase of unnecessary flood plain insurance by the bank.  My client has been trying to resolve the issues on her own, which is the equivalent of banging your fists on the side of the wall of the bank.  You get a different person every time you call.  The loan servicing issues are CONFUSING.  And the flood plain bullshit was unresolvable.  This was a classic case of a person who had a period of temporary unemployment and really wanted nothing more than some very reasonable help.

So she was facing foreclosure and I got an injunction to stop that.  Enormo Bank is represented by attorneys who make 4x what I make and they are morons.  They do discovery to ask me questions that I have already answered or that we have already discussed.  They filed a Motion for Summary Judgment which I won.  And now, over a year after I got the injunction, I get a one paragraph letter that says, "We would like to settle this.  What does your client think that she owes?"  And all I can do is laugh.  We could have done this a year ago if the fucking lawyers weren't so busy being lawyers.

I consider myself a practical problem solver.  I am honest and I am not going to dick you around.  Here's my position, here's yours, lets figure out a solution.

Because litigation is unsatisfying.  Judges hate hearing disputed issues and dislike warring attorneys busy pissing on every chair leg.  I work at the court house at what is called the Self Help Center and I have a stream of folks that come in with what they think are "interesting" custody cases or appeals over fence posts and it just makes my head hurt.  No one cares.  Really.  You two people who are disputing this problem are the only ones who care and you two need to come up with a solution.  You are not going to be satisfied otherwise.  I once represented a woman in a divorce and had a day long trial about custody, which I got for her, and then as we walked out and I was feeling really awesome and happy with what a good job I had done, the bitchy voice of my client landed me back on Earth real quickly.  "He's supposed to pick the kids up at 5:00 for his visit on Friday?  That doesn't work!  I work until 5 and then, blah, blah, blah..." this miserable woman bitched about the terms of the win.

There's a famous Groucho Marx quotation about not wanting to be a member of a club that would have me for a member.  Sometimes I feel that way about my profession.

The holidays didn't suck much.  The kids were happy with their gifts.  I didn't have to go anywhere.  My inlaws came over for Christmas Eve and it was nice and low key and no one got drunk or injured.  (It's scary when that's how you assess things, I know.)

I worked on the 30th and even though the office closed at noon I stayed working on reports and time records, etc.  I had a lot of end of year stuff and I worried that I would have to come in on the 31st.  It ended up that I got everything done at 4:45.  Perfect.  I freshened my makeup, fixed my hair, and went to meet friends for a New Year's Eve Eve.  It was fan-fucking-tastic.  We got dressed up (some more than others - I came from work) and we drank martinis and tipped our bartenders generously.  Several of the husbands showed up and we went out for burgers and then I came home to my husband.

We ordered The Mountain Goats albums on vinyl and when I got home Bill was cuing up "Tallahassee" which is our favorite MG album and by far the most dysfunctional.  We made a music video to "No Children" and I crashed.

New Year's Eve was one of the best days I have had in a long time.  It was a beautiful day here.  The dog and I took a long walk and then I finally got the leaves raked up in the front yard (5 bags of yard waste - oof).  We had sparkling wine and cheese on the front porch in the late afternoon sun.  We went to see "The Descendants" ($18 for 2 tickets and then $10 for 2 pops?!!  My usual theater is closed for the Christmas season - it's affiliated with the University and it's way cheaper and sells coffee for $1.  But it's Oscar season, so I will start seeing mainstream movies and bitching about ticket prices.  It distracts me from how much I dislike mainstream movies in general but go anyway.).  The theater was full of middle aged people so we knew we were in the right spot.  We went home to make an amazing dinner together - greek potatoes, lamb steaks, and green beans.  Amazing wine.

I have the day off and everyone is asleep.  The main floor of my house is clean and the washing machine is running.  The pumpkin muffins and coffee smell great.  This is why I want to be a stay at home mom.

But like with everything else - I am more than one thing.  I want crazy nights out with girls and quiet nights in with my guy and long walks with my dog and mom time with my kids.