We had a beautiful fluffy snow over the weekend, but of course this morning it was ice, hard ridges of snow, and lots of bullshit driving from other drivers.  (Really?  There are cars parked on both sides of the street, I am easing down the middle of the narrow side street on a sheet of ice and you think that's a good time to pull away from the curb in front of me?)  The main streets are fine, but the side streets that I use to get the kids to their schools sucked.  This is why I hate driving.

I had a hearing this morning out of town, which rarely happens anymore.  So I headed North on the highway (not the Interstate) with the heat and radio cranked up.  The corn stalk stubs stuck through the snow as did the tops of the prairie grass on the sides of the road.  The bareness of it all appeals to me.  This is why I love driving.

I don't do a lot of divorce cases anymore.  When I transfered to my office I became the "consumer law expert" and most of my cases are in federal court.  I am in charge of the homeless outreach and like getting out into the community, but it is rare for me to go to the little rural towns that my office also services.  This case was an exception because I did the client's bankruptcy and dealt with her estranged husband as part of that process and we of course talked about a divorce and I agreed to do it.  So I drove to Cute Town, USA that has a Main Street with a bakery and a historic courthouse and sweet, small town people.  This morning after her hearing she hugged me and cried as she thanked me for being with her through "two of the toughest times" in her life.  This is why I love what I do.

I got back in my cozy van and came back to the office listening to Lil Wayne.  ("Today I went shopping, and talk is still cheap.")  This is why I love my life.

I can't hear the words "double feature" without thinking of the lips from Rocky Horror.

Anyway.  Second blog today.  And I actually went to a double feature today.  I went to a matinee and then Bill joined me later for a twilight movie.  (Not THE twilight movie.)

"The Weekend," a movie about a gay couple that hooks up on a Friday night was my kind of movie.  The whole plotline is Saturday morning to Sunday afternoon.  I love that kind of thing.  It is brilliant.  "My Dinner With Andre" with sex.  More than that though, it is about the connection between people that just sometimes occurs for no good reason.  The story arc was subtle.  The characters were realistic and fantastic.

Bill met me to go to a movie about a man who makes his daughter's rapist into a woman.  And afterwards we went out for cocktails and talked about the movie but also, inevitably, about our coupling, and how obviously unhealthy it is for the two of us in some ways and how impossible it is for us to be apart.  "I can't quit you," I said.  But Bill hasn't seen that gay film either, and frankly, the one I saw today was more universal (though not as pretty, but then, I am a Westerner).

Chemistry is everything.  Well, except for the part that is biology.

This morning, on my way to the gym, the ex husband and I talked about the oldest teen (long, long, long story about last night) and he said, "I want her to come stay with me for awhile.  I will make her life very simple."

She's flunking classes, needs 18 hours of community service for a graduation requirement, lost her driver's license (as in, can't find it), owes me $100+ and owes her dad $100+, and has probably lost her job (she hasn't worked in three weeks and has all kinds of reasons that it occurred, but none of them make any sense).  On top of all that is the lying, manipulative bullshit and sneaking out at night.

So I said, "Ok."  And I hope this helps.

It's snowing here.  Everyone (well, not EVERYONE) is freaking out about the snow like they have never seen it before.  Events are getting canceled.  In my Power Pump class this morning the instructor was in front of a huge picture window and I could not take my eyes off the huge fluffy flakes coming down. As I lifted weights and did my squats, etc., I felt really peaceful.  Part of it was the contrast of activity and warmth and the beautiful fluffy flakes.  Part of it was the relief of getting a break from this child who is making me feel like I am losing my damn mind.

Store, turkey melt, and now some salted caramels and wine in the tub.  I'm going to continue the tranquility and take the dog for a walk in the snow.

Me and Jersy_Girl (or whatever the hell handle she uses these days).  And just in case we're ever in a classy bar in Philadelphia, you know to nibble my ear.  I love that.

You know, there is something about blogging that makes things really intimate.  And when you meet someone in person whose blog you've been reading, you know them.  (None of this is new or anything, but I am just thinking about it tonight.)

Cindy and I have a thing for each other and had a lot of fun flirting with each other when we met in person a couple of years ago when I was in Philadelphia for work.  We immediately connected and drank, chatted, and sat on each other's laps.  We shared a cigarette.  And our spouses, who were along with us that afternoon, were incredibly indulgent.  They smiled wanly as we flirted, made inside jokes and talked about other Xanga people.  At the end of the day, she went back to Jersey and I went back to Nebraska (but we'll always have pool and beer in Philly, right, Cindy?).  Thank God we didn't get those tattoos we were talking about.

There have been others.  The most significant being a guy who met me in Boston and ended up spending the night with me in my fancy schmancy conference hotel.  I told part of that story to some work friends (the meeting a guy from the Internet and spending the day with him - left off the night part - they were already freaked out) and they couldn't understand.  But!  He was from the Internet!  How scary!  Really?  I felt like I knew him really well and we enjoyed each other's company and had a nice, no-strings evening (no intercourse, I swear!) of intimacy.  (He was single and I was on/off with Bill, who knows about Scary Internet Guy.)  The only thing that freaked me out about him was the super fast East Coast way he talked.  Everything else seemed familiar.  We're still friends.

The Internet Friend thing is new and we're all figuring out how that works.  (The first Internet friend I met in person was Heidi in SanFrancisco.  I went to her apartment with her after meeting her outside her office, and she freaked out a bit when I greeted her cat by name.  Of course I knew her cat's name!  )  And the sexual tension part that inevitably sometimes happens when we meet someone in person is bound to happen when we interact through the intertubes.  It's just all in how you handle it.  I am very much in agreement with Savage Love on this one.  Be honest with each other and accept that your partner is at least attracted to others even if there is an understanding that there will not be any action.  I prefer grey in this area.)

Cindy never did show me her boobs.

Tonight there is a Balkan Music DJ Party in Omaha and I really, really, really want to go.  I love tubas.  Love them lots.  I have been into electronic klezmer music and play it for anyone who will listen.  I think the music at the show in Omaha will be similar.

Earlier this week I came home to extra teenagers, which is to say that the teens had friends over and they promptly dove into the Chinese I brought home with appropriate thankfulness.  Actual things that actual teenagers said to me this week (not MY teenagers):

"You're so cool for getting extra crab rangoon."

"Thank you."

"Your taste in music is really awesome."

My kids listen to their friends talk to me with a combination of horror and fascination.  It's like they see that maybe and perhaps I am not so bad.  One of the girls actually calls me "Mom" and tells me she loves me.  I always tell her that I love her back.  Child psychologists have all kinds of reasons that socialization is important, but really, the only thing I care about is that my kids may realize that I am not as horrible as they think I am.  And my musical taste is really pretty good, dammit.  Or so says the super cute boy that hangs around my daughter and admires the music on my ipod.  She admires him and if he admires me then I get some credit in her eyes.

We were rocking out to Max Pashm as we sat around the table eating lo mein and rangoons - moving up and down with the tuba oompahs.  And tonight I will not go to the show that I want to go to because I need to be at home and be a parent.  A truly cool parent would take the kids to a show in the city and get them home well past midnight.  Or leave them home alone while I go to the show.  I'm not quite that cool.

I have had a client lose her job today, another (former) client found out that her house was sold at auction last week (she thought she was applying for refinancing), and another called to tell me that his wife has stage 4 brain cancer, and had to say yeah, sorry, those hospital bills can't be added to the bankruptcy we filed in August.

It is Wednesday which means that the kids are with their dad for dinner and I am off to spin class.  I like this spin class a lot.  The instructor turns down the lights and I sweat so hard that my forearms sweat.  Seriously, I have not sweated like that since high school basketball.  Not even running a marathon makes me sweat like my Wednesday Night Spin Instructor.  She plays awesome music, but it makes me want to dance.  I want to sit up on my seat and say, "Dammit, this is a merengue, which one of you sexy, sweaty beasts will dance with me?!"  But instead, I grimace and look at the rpms and wait for it to be over.  I head home for a giant salad and dinner in front of the tv while I brace for the door to open and my children to spread their chaos.  I will feel a bit luckier tonight as they sweep into my life.

I have to acknowledge that November is over and I am not sure what to say about the blogging.  I love it and love y'all.  This Xanga site sucks ass though.

And no, this isn't about boobs. 

Years ago when I was a young attorney I had a hearing with a gruff old bankruptcy trustee who hates everyone.  There was a typographical mistake on one of the documents and he flipped the papers at me and said, "Have one of your girls fix this and send me a new copy."

I was speechless.  He didn't lump me in with "the girls!"  He was acknowledging me as someone in power.  I had "girls."

I have always been uncomfortable with support staff.  It is a difficult relationship to handle sometimes.  When I was in private practice the head secretary hated me.  HATED me.  It was really uncomfortable.  She made more money than me, but I had my own office and I got invited to lunch with the other attorneys.  She only got invited to lunch on Secretary's Day.  And so she hated me.  It was just the way it was going to be.  I had no power, and she let me know it.  She resented it that I was treated with more respect, I think.

I have two amazing paralegals right now and they make my job easy and pleasant.  They know how I like things.  I know how to explain and ask for things.  It's good all round.  If I still went out to lunch I would ask them to join me.  I was just sitting here wrapping some stuff in and confirmation emails were flying in showing me all the work they were getting done for me at the end of the day.  I wish I had this kind of help at home.

cause I didn't blog for days.  I drove through three states to visit my parents with three teenagers.  I need a merit badge or something.

Back in the office dressed up (court today) and listening to Ben Kweller (who was born in San Francisco but moved with his parents to rural Texas and now he wears cowboy hats).  Kids are somehow at school.

It continues to be odd to me that "going home for the holidays" means Oklahoma.  And before that it was Texas.  And here I am in Nebraska, which is just where they happened to live when I graduated from high school.

On Facebook I tried to put "None" as my hometown, but apparently there is actually a town called "None."  It's in Laos.  We never lived in Laos.  The closest would be when my dad was in Vietnam, I suppose, but during those years my mom and I lived in South Carolina.  I get all kinds of interesting friend requests in an Asian language.  I think they think I am actually Laoatian?  Might as well be.  Course, I hear that road trips across Laos are worse than road trips across the Heartland.  No McDonalds and no Red Boxes.

I know I am not supposed to like it.  And I have never shopped on Black Friday and rarely go to WalMart - maybe twice a year?  But this year for some reason I decided to go to the midnight sale and my two youngest kids decided that they were in on that action.  A laptop, a printer, and a new game system later we left.  We were actually giddy.  High fiving and giggling.  Awesomeness.

It has been a relaxing couple of days with my parents in Oklahoma.  Walking dogs, eating, and watching football or movies.  I think we're playing a board game tonight.  We're going to the Muppets tomorrow and probably out to eat.  It's been an exceptionally low drama holiday and everyone has been great.

Tom commented on the situation with my husband in another state and me here with my parents.  It is an ongoing struggle to find ways to be with all the people I love.  The reality is that if he were here he would be miserable and my parents would be uncomfortable.  It's just too much togetherness for them.  They like each other and love me, but they just have not bonded.  I woke by myself this morning when I was alone and missed Bill a lot.  I have to admit though that I have enjoyed the freedom to lay on the floor and laugh myself silly over "Christmas Vacation" and spontaneously go to WalMart at midnight.

I am taking the kids and the dog to my parent's house in Oklahoma for Thanksgiving.  Bill is staying home which pisses me off and relieves me at the same time.  Whatever.

So we hit the highway south on Wednesday night after I get off work.  We'll stay overnight somewhere in Kansas where they allow dogs and have a wafflemaker for breakfast.  I'll miss the goddamn parade on tv because I'll be driving us all the rest of the way in time to get to my parent's house for Thanksgiving dinner.

These are not the people who raised me.  I feel the need to point this out to my kids, but they laugh at me, because the only parents of mine they have ever known are these thoughtful, caring, people who COOK and DO ACTIVITIES and have a HOUSEKEEPER.  They've been preparing for our visit and the beds will have clean sheets and food will be prepared and the table will be set.  Over dinner the grandparents will talk about going to movies and the zoo and swimming at the University pool and after dinner there will be gifts, if they haven't already given out gifts, and then they will pop popcorn and watch movies and my mom will probably have a craft planned that she'll do with the kids while they watch movies together.

Seriously, this is creepy to me.  I did my own laundry, was expected to do house work, cook dinner and entertain my own damn self.  They used to put a granola bar and a banana in a basket for my breakfast on the weekends so that they could "sleep in."  I would watch cartoons by myself until they got up and put me to work around the house or sent me outside to play until dinnertime.

I usually enjoy cooking, but I have hardly cooked at all this fall.  There has just been Too Much Shit Going On and I have been too tired and uninspired.  We've had a lot of soup, take out and Trader Joe's frozen food.  I am looking forward to my dad's cooking this weekend.  He's been going at it since last weekend and we'll eat well on Thursday.  Apparently he made four pies.  And my mom made cookies.  That's more dessert than we had in our house my entire childhood.

I will get over it.  I mean, who gets mad at their parents for making too much pie?