K. comes for a visit

So good to see my old roommate and fellow A-type. She could only come for a little bit and had to split her time between her numerous friends and family, but I was glad to could squeeze me in. We met at Starbucks (that bastion of environmental responsibility) to exchange gifts (through Oxfam --my favorite charity--she purchased three water jugs and a sheep in my honor). What followed was lots of guacalome and lots of catching up. We also saw Blood Diamond, which is my pick for best movie of the year.

So amazing to see you as always, K. Next tapas is on me!

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight:

So, Merry Day After Christmas. Monster and I went over to his parents Christmas Eve for a feast with his paternal side of the family. I sat outside with candles and chocolates, listening to the sound of the rain pounding on the tin roof of the gazebo. It poured. There were actually tornadoes the next county over. Here in Florida you often hear about the possibility of tornados in a rainshower but dimiss it. Yet, to be on the road and driving in one makes you feel so vulnerable and small. Very scary merry-making.

Now that the holiday is in full swing, it is time to let it be known that we have made Big Plans for ourselves come the new year. We are moving to Vancouver! Not right away, of course. There are a lot of details to be sorted. It all happened very organically but now that we have made up our minds to begin this new adventure, we look at each other and say, "Why didn't we think of this eons ago?!" My Canadian applications to law school are already in the mail and we are working on sorting out other details. It will take time to come together but someday we will be heading out into the unknown again and it feels good.

I finally found a link that works

This Coldplay video is not the live version I was looking for, but it works, so it is the Chosen One. Oh wait! I just found a live version (see first link.) What the H.E. double hockey sticks was wrong with these links yesterday?
When my husband and I were in our courtin' days about three years ago, we got into a horrible fight about something right before a social gathering. Never one to pass up a party, I insisted we still attend, but on the way there I kept this song on repeat. You know, to teach him a lesson. M. drove through twenty straight playings of that song, and can still enjoy it today, which is a testament to both his endless patience and Chris Martin's haunting lyrics.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0w7WJYQpBk0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ51okKYicI

The Coldplay link isn't working...bah humbug

UPDATE: There is nothing in this post. I should just take it down but I don't want to disturb the authentic chronology of the posts.

All I want for Christmas is...my LSAT score.

So, the wait is over and I got my results from lsac.org. Actually, they never sent me an email as they "supposed to." Instead, I received two early morning frantic calls from my fellow test-takers. They got their results and were calling to commiserate. I logged on to my account, and there was that NUMBER staring me in the face. 169. I think it is enough, combined with my GPA, to get into the school of my choice. It has been a long, tedious adventure this LSAT-studying and taking and I couldn't have done it without the help and support of my friends, family and--most of all--my husband. He is the one who allowed me to take time off work while he supported us. He is the one that encouraged me everyday. I love you, Baby. At least half of those points are yours.

In honor of this holiday season, I will post a youtube clip of our favorite live band, Coldplay. A bit of history: last year, right before I left for Oxford, Matt and I had tickets to the Tampa Coldplay concert. It was being held outdoors at the amplitheater, which in MO is the best way to enjoy live music, with the stars and breeze and the big screens. But, the day of the concert, Coldplay cancelled. Luckily for me, they didn't reschedule until I was safely back in the States and able to enjoy the performance with my husband. (After all, who else would he go with? He couldn't exactly invite one of his guy friends...to a Coldplay concert. No.)

The concert was magical for us, that is the only word, however overused, that describes it. We felt so in love, so happy with the performance (except when Chris Martin fell on stage and smashed his knee!) To me, that is Christmas is about--the magic part, not the banged knee part. Although...

Enjoy!

UPDATE: The link was broken so I took it down.

Finally Time to 'Fess Up

Although this blog is called "Tales of LAW and Love" I realize I have done very little posting about the law part. I took my LSAT in September, completely prepared and ready to face it, thanks to the total emotional, physical and financial support of my amazing guy. However, life is fully of random craziness, iznit? There is no other way to say this: I freaked out. I froze. I couldn't get through the games section, even on my most proficient games. So...after much beating myself up, advice from trusted colleagues, friends and family, I cancelled my score.

Canceling my score was a hard decision. After all, I quit my JOB to study for this F'er. I spent six hours a day preparing for it. Six days a week. For two months. If anyone was ready, it was me. Nevertheless, the freak out remains.

So, I took a part time job and spent another two months further preparing. And this time it wasn't so bad. I felt a lot less nervous. I know I had some issues (especially with the games section. Again.) but I am more confident this time. I should be getting my score in two weeks and hopefully, it will be high enough to allow me entry into the schools of my choice.

That's the story of the LSAT, as my (one? two?) reader(s) may have wondered why I suddenly stopped mentioning something so central to the topic of my blog that it is actually in the name.

The Tao of Bart

Bart Simpson: Church/cult, cult/church. So we get bored someplace else every Sunday. Does this really change our everyday lives?

What for Liberty?

A few very interesting posts have made me think more deeply about what Americans should be ready to sacrifice in the name of safety. First, this report: http://www.unionleader.com/article.aspx?headline=Gingrich+raises+alarm+at+event+honoring+those+who+stand+up+for+freedom+of+speech&articleId=d3f4ee4e-1e90-475a-b1b0-bbcd5baedd78

The relevance of Third Reich Germany to today's America is not that Bush equals Hitler or that the United States government is a death machine. It's that it provides a rather spectacular example of the insidious process by which decent people come to regard the unthinkable as not only thinkable but doable, justifiable.
http://www.slate.com/id/2154567/nav/tap1/ Overlooking the author's unfortunate name, this article made me re-examine why it is that I believed nothing in modern-day could ever be compared to Third Reich-style tactics.

Perhaps it is more American to die that future generations may also experience freedom of speech than to live in an America that supports repression of such freedoms. I am not a parent, but it constantly amazes me that parents of young children today do not fight harder against aspects of modern society that would devastate their children as they grow. Why do moms drive their children in environmentally hurtful SUVs? Why don't they work to petition their governments to control pollution emissions? Why does it seem that I, a childless DINK, am more concerned about a future where breathing and excercising freedom than parents today?

The Daily Show on Religion

The Daily Show on Scientology

At the beginning of this Christmas season, let me just say..."Hooray for Holy Wood!"

We've Got a Lot...

I ran across this posting from my favorite online publishing, The Huffington Post. Thanks, Bob Cesca.

For those who don't know (everyone but my husband, with whom I discuss Senator Stevens with purplexing regularity) Ted Stevens is one of my guiltest pleasures and, seeing as he made into Cesca's "to be thankful fors", he must be included here:

"In a world that grows exponentially more complex by the second, it's nice to know that we can still bullshit our way around actual information. This goes especially for the kids. Take the advice of Senator Ted Stevens, kids. If your teacher asks you a question you're unprepared for, just go batshit loony and reply, "It's a series of TUBES!" For example, how does the Pythagorean Theorem work? Answer: it's a series of TUBES! If Senator Stevens can get away with it -- and he's the chairman of the Senate Commerce Committee in charge of regulating the internet -- then so can you. Thanks, Senator Stevens, for making gibberish awesome again. And a bonus thanks for giving America another reason to support term limits on U.S. senators."

Formerly-fourth-in-line-for-the-Presidentcy Stevens is my batshit hero. Good times.

Check out the rest of Cesca's post here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-cesca/thanking-the-shit-out-of-_b_34746.html

Dismembered Memories

Children, children/
Don't you worry 'bout this/
Children, children/
I've promised you bliss.

So Let it Be Written

Finally got my law school admissions essay written, most of my professors recommendations have safely arrived as well as my college transcripts. Now...I just need to start applying to law schools. Why is it so easy to put off this step? I guess because it makes it all real. I will REALLY be packing my life up to re-begin (not a word, I know) as a law student. I am excited and terrified all at once.

My sister is about to graduate from law school (it was my idea, but she got there first!) and is pretty bored in her studies. I would rather be bored than overwhelmed and that is what your first year is like.

I read One-L and The Paper Chase. I am told it is no longer like that, when Scott Tutow spent sixteen hours a day trying to make law review. But I wonder... 

Girls in Fall

Walton Well. 

Why can't I write like HER??!

This girl--the one in the picture with me--possesses a unique gift that I am coveting. Big Time. Right now.
You know those people whose blog posts are full of witty insights? The ones whose ideas flow effortlessly onto the (web)page? I have spent my adult life trying to be one of them.
Whe the aforementioned blond girl and I were roommates, I would point out witty, insightful blog writing to her and she was always so non-committal ("that's nice"). Little did I know that she was covering up the fact that she was one such writer. Perhaps to spare my feelings of inadequacy?
Although, if that was her intent, she shouldn't have bothered. She has always had more guts than me. Like, that time we went for a walk around Oxford at night? And a young idiot in a sportscar nearly ran us over at the corner? And then called us bitches? And then circled the block to call us bitches again? I wanted to get onto a side street in case sportyMcAss**** decided to track us. But not her. Oh no, she was like, "Bring it on." And really? It should have been bought because that guy was a bad driver and a rude M'erF'er. We could have totally taken him. 

This was the best shot we could get

Last fall was not my season for electronics, apparently. First, my digital camera refuses to charge my very first week in Oxford and I missed so many gorgeous opportunities for pictures. Then, my computer won't get online...but it is fixed and back to me a few days later. Then, my cell phone falls to the ground and breaks. Then, my vital, necessary-to-all-coursework computer breaks again. This time for good. Then...ok, no more "thens" but it was a dark spot in my life.
But none of this has anything to do with the picture to the right or Paris in general. Except that we had to use a crappy disposable camera and got very few good pictures of our romantic, perfect visit in December. But we will go back! We are determined to capture the Eiffle tower all glittery and golden, as it is at night, and...get the whole thing in...along with all of us. So let it be written! 

Tribute to A.

My sister A. is three and a half years younger than I and far braver. After working as a radio journalist, she has decided to take a tour of Latin America in order to learn a Spanish more authentically.
A. can already speak French quite well, but wanted to add another language, so off she went.
Since being in Latin America, she has been contacted by major Canadian newspapers to get "the scoop" on their behalf. So, she went into a Guatamalean prison where the inmales run the facility. There was no security of note to protect her. I would not have chosen to go in, but she did and she got a beautiful article.
I am constantly amazed at the self-assured, poised, intelligent woman she has become. I am proud to even know her and proud that she is in my life. 

T, T and T Part III

So, we sent the van in front of us with directions to Seasons of My Heart, the gorgeous cooking school where we held the ceremony. Isn't it perfect? And ironic? Since I hate to cook?
The van was no where in sight and so we relied on the directions we had the van driver give the taxi drivers before we left. Yeah. So, we were lost. On a dirt road about half an hour outside Oaxaca, we three taxis were out in some field with mud huts all around. What to do? Ask the people in the huts, of course, and we were on our way. Then we got lost again. We decided to call and ask for directions but where were we? Standing next to a corn stalk , a large grey rock fifteen paces to the west. You know the place?? Fortunatley, the cooking school has a rather distinctive red domed roof, and by scanning the horizon, we finally wearily stumbled upon it. 

Tears, Teargas and Tequila part deux

This is a foto of the helicopter that kept flying over our heads, threatening to dump stinging tear gas on our morning coffee and oatmeal. So, after my friend O. and my hubby-to-be-in-five-hours finally made it out of the riots with our giddy rescued guests, we set about trying to get all our gringo asses out of there and safely to the ceremony destination. Thankfully, we booked a spot in the mountains forty-five minutes outside of Oaxaca. Very convinient when the village you are staying in explodes into civil unrest!

Two vans were scheduled to pick half of us up (the girls, natch, who would need extra time to beautiful the local and themselves for the revels ahead) and then return for the guys around 3 PM. It was now 9:30 and we needed both of those vans to get ALL of us the hell out. Pronto. Unfortunately, only one van could make it through the chaos to our hotel, so we hired three taxis on the spot and then tried to usher our guests into their respectives modes of transport. Caravaning, for those not familiar, takes quite a lot of organization. So, while H. worked out the details in Spanish with the drivers, I ran from room to room trying to hurry everyone up and--oh yeah--bring your passport and valuables in case the hotel is ransacked while we're away. Wink! Isn't the bride supposed to worry about her nail polish color on her wedding day? Or maybe an errant skin bloch? These were not the details on my mind as I urged people to pack up and get in the van slash taxis.
So, off we went. And just in time, as a band of men with makeshift weapons streamed down in front of our vehicles heading toward the confrontation. 

Us Wrapped up in Paint

We are immortalized! My sweetie's cousin gave us this portrait she painted from a picture of our Oaxacan wedding. She captured the details so well: from the flowers to the colors to my dangly earrings. Such a thoughtful gift, we love it. It hangs proudly in our kitchen. Thanks Kylie! 

LSAT in minus two

I take the law school admittance exam the day after tomorrow. Quite nervous about it, to be honest. I have "test-driven" the clothing I will wear, the food I will eat, the route I will take to the test. I don't want any surprises.
And although this test means a lot for me, I think I am pretty ready. I have prepared for months and am sure I can score where I need to.
A big thank you to my husband for his financial and emotional support, to Hope, Tirzah and Feli for their encouragement and to Katerina, Elona for their well wishes.
So now it is on to the big test and then whatever comes next. After all, "tomorrow is another day"... 

What will shape me

So introspective--that is what happens when your habit is to drink a glass of wine before blogging. I am watching this gorgeous documentary on the building of the pyramids on our gorgeous flat screen plasma. The fictious worker by whom this story is told loses his brother and I think, "All lives are mared by some sort of tragedy, I wonder what mine will be?" Something tells me it will not be in my past but in my future. What will it be and how will I bare it?

Claire

I don't know what happened to you. I heard a horrible rumor. But I cling to hope that you are still with us, still finding your dreams. I hope many good things came into your life and are still coming into your life. I didn't realize until this moment how much I identified with you: a little girl like me, growing into a woman; looking for the positive where there is so much negative.

Into the Ocean

I am just a normal girl who sank when I fell overboard
My ship would leave the country but I'd rather swim ashore
Now floating up and down, I spin colliding into sound,
Like whales beneath me diving down
I'm sinking to the bottom of my everything that freaks me out
The lighthouse beam has just run out
I'm cold as cold as cold can be.

I want to swim away but don't know how
Sometimes I feel just like I'm diving in the Ocean
Let the waves take me up and down
Let the hurricane set in motion
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down
Let the rain come down.

Where is the coastguard, I keep looking each direction
For a spotlight, give me something
I need something for perfection.
Maybe flotsam junk will do just fine
The jetsum sank, I'm left behind
I'm treading for my life, believe me
(How can I keep up this breathing?)

Not knowing how to think
I scream aloud, begin to sink
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground
I'm reaching for the life within me
I thought of just your face,
Relaxed and floating into space.
--Blue October

The Unveiling

I know I told you I would keep your identity hidden within my blog, but that was before I realized you never visit it anyway. And neither does anyone else, so you're safe.

You were sick yesterday and still worked a full, hot, hard day. I don't think I would have the same determination to work through pain like you did. You worked twelve hours and then came home and collapsed on the floor. The only thing I could do was try to keep you comfortable, give you liquids and love before I left for your dad's birthday dinner.

I don't tell you enough how much I admire you: your work ethic, the way you never let those that depend on you down. Today, after I begged you to take a day off (your first in a long time) you and I spent our first day together in nearly a month. Even when you're sick, you still make me laugh, make me smile, make me feel safe.

I want the whole world to know how very much I love you. 

How to Save a Life

Step up to you, you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right

Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same

...And you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

The Fray

Tu eres me ser...

Tu eres me amor, me sol, y me flor. 

What will it be?

I got my college diploma today...after weeks of calling and checking and stuttering and taking abuse from the UT registrar. Got some bad news about work, too, but still hopeful. I know there are so many others that have it so much worse than I.

What does the future hold? When I first returned from Africa, I kept a journal (pre-blog) about my new "adventure": trying to find my roots again. I was looking (pretty unsuccessfully) for a job after being out of the workforce for six years, I was re-adjusting to life in North America and looking for what's next. For some reason, I was thinking that would be the last time I would be that lost. In some ways, that's true but...there is something magical in not knowing what is coming next; all the possibilities of the future.

Back then, I wrote in my journal that I wished I could "fast forward" in my life a few months, to the point where I was employed, fulfilled, on to the next step. I just wanted to skip the insecurity, the unknown, the humiliation of being so lost. But, here I am again, one degree and husband richer, more settled into myself than I was in my mid-twenties. And still there is so much unknown.

I am nervous and afraid but also curious to see what will happen next...

Depressing places I have lived.

While in the bookstore today, I started thinking about some of the most depressing places I have lived. Firstly, there is Moscow. Not the center, absolutely not; Red Square, the Kremlin, even the subway stops beneeth this part of the city were a molded kleidiscope of color. It was the flats, the apartments that skirt historic Moscow that brought on my feelings of gloom. Each constructed in the same drab Communist gray, they sat like generic gravestones in an overcrowded cemetary. The interior provided no relief: hallways and elevators reeked of urine. Sometimes, you had to strategically pick out a dry spot on the lift and hope the old rusty shafts did not jostle the vile yellow liquid around you. Still, the quiet magesty the Russian people thrilled me, elegent details left over on pre-Stalin buildings inspired me, the spirit of a nation carved out of ice that could not be crushed.

Then, there was Africa, where expansive townships, casket stripmalls and orphaned babies dying of A.I.D.S. left me feeling hopeless and confused. But there was also the green mountains, the savanna filled with wildlife I had never before seen, the roaring shout of Victoria falls, gnarled trees, children that would break randomly and beautifully into song.

And finally, Oxford. Beautiful, ancient, scholarly Oxford. The colleges with tiny, obscured entrances that lead to green courtyards and quads. The latin, the four hundred year old pubs with names like "The Eagle and Child," and "The Three Goats." It was winter: dark and cold and intimidating. I couldn't stop thinking about those who had walked down those cobblestones before me. They had come to study, to work, to raise their families. They had built the buildings I entered so casually. They decorated with color and vibrance and were no longer here to see it. Cemetary stones were everywhere, even carved into the middle of town. Everything whispered, "They were here." And now "they" are gone. As soon will I. "Hurry up, hurry up!" Capture all the living you can in the time you have left. The beauty of Oxford is the fragility of life. This is the lesson for those who would hope to be its students. 

Great beginnings deserve great endings

http://www.break.com/index/how_superman_should_have_ended.html

10 Years from Now

In ten years, where will we be? Will the hard work, diligence and stamina pay off for us? What about those who believe their decisions are the only right decisions, those who have not prepared themselves for reality: the reality of now, the reality of ten years? What keeps me going is knowing that I am working towards something I want, the direction I see myself going.

Daybreak

Early morning, milky
Silence folds a snowy down,
Rustles of stirring, tendrils creep
Comfort found in cotton mound.

Heavy warmth of arms encased,
Caramel butter against flushed skin,
Holding back the days' insistance,
One more moment in balmy din.

Easy comfort in finished dreams,
Sounds of daylight swirl around,
Day's beginning in sweet console,
Happiness is my lover found.

An overachiever learns to breathe out!

Since deciding to expand the goals in my life, I have been working towards a degree. My bachelor's did not come easy: I changed majors twice, changed schools three times. Not to mention the ocean that I crossed in search of enlightment. During each day of my undergraduate experience, one thing has remained the same: I have always tried really, REALLY hard to do the best, get the best grade. So, now I am in a situation where I STILL am attempting to improve my grades, this time with the LSAT, but it feels different. It feels less, well, noble and more...optional. Yes, getting my first degree was optional, too, but somehow I thought I would have more of a rush having received it. I thought it may validate my other pursuits, my other goals, like Legos stacking on top of one another.
But instead, through all the research and prep I have done to get myself to law school, I bemoan the fact that I am not there ALREADY! I am wasting valuable years of my life when I should be out there, preparation-less but perhaps just as ready.
Okay, enough stream of consciousness. 

159 and counting...

On a practice test, I scored 159 today. That is the highest I have scored so far. Unfortunately, the schools I want to get into need a higher number. Working on it.

10 weeks and counting...

We have now been officially been man and wife for ten whole weeks. I am beside myself with joy! We made it this far without hating each other or regreting our decision. Goody for us! 

What is a Woman?

It is difficult to be a woman today. Not for me. I am lucky enough to have all of the following: a supportive family, an advanced education, access to healthcare and medication, hope that I can acheive my goals. But as I grow older, I realize I am in the minority. Around the world, women suffer terrible atrocities. In Pakistan, Rwanda, India, Uganda, Indonesia, Afghanistan, nearly every developing nation contains women who support families, raise children, struggle to keep from falling apart while victimized.
In the future of this blog, I am planning to write about my sisters. But I cannot begin to chronical what they mean to me without proper context. In so many countries today, a household containing only daughters would be considered unlucky. Our gender would bring our parents shame in the community. Our mother would vainly and fruitlessly attempt to redeem herself in the eyes of others, our father would see contempt and disappointment in his friends' eyes. If we were Chinese, who is to say how many of us six would not even be allowed to live past a single day? If we were born into a poor Pakistani family, would we get medical care when we needed it? If were were Indian, would we can get past the gender-determining ultrasounds? If we were from Uganda, would we be forced into arranged marriages? I realize that not every woman from each of the nations I mentioned face these situations, but enough of them do to warrent the examples.
As it turned out, we were all born and raised in North America. We all were taught to read, sent to school and expected to chart our own destinys. We are six women extraordinarily lucky to be in the positions we have grown accustomed to.
We are also six women committed to improving the lives of other women who find themselves in less comfortable circumstances. I am proud of each of my sisters individually, for who they are and what they doing, but I am also proud that we all look outside ourselves to the plights of others and steel ourselves to be of use to them.
I am proud of my sisters for their self-awareness and their empathy for women everywhere. Somehow, I ended up in this phenomenal group of women. We have a bond that is deeper than any friendship. We have a love that can forgive any tensions between us. You are each such a big part of who I cam that I cannot describe myself accurately without mention of you--of us.

Sisters

I spent some time IMing one of my sisters today. It was only a few minutes, but I love connecting with them. Each of them is a strong, capable young woman and I am proud to be part of this tight little circle. Eventually, I plan to dedicate a post to each of them individually. 

Tears, Teargas and Tequila Part I

Eschewing more elaborate weddings, M. and I wanted to have something small, interesting and exotic. We should have qualified just how interesting before we left. Anyway, we chose to hold the ceremony in Oaxaca, Mexico. My aunt Val has called Oaxaca home for decades. Nestled between seven mountains, Oaxaca has a reputation for temperate climates, unique flavors and gorgeous historic sites. And so, about twenty-five guests boarded flights to share this with us.
For the next few days leading up to our wedding, we explored the marketplace, local restaurants and churches while preparing the final details for the Big Day. Meanwhile, there was a low-key protest underway. Local teachers set up tarps and tents, camping out in the middle of Oaxaca to protest low wages. Val informed us that the teachers had been striking this way for years. It really didn't seem like a big deal. Yes, it was a bit more smelly and crowded than we prefered in the town squre. But most of our hotels and restaurants were far enough away from the center that these activities didn't affect us much. If anything, they added an interesting flair.
The morning of the wedding, we awoke to a strange new sound. In my sleepy daze, I assumed large trucks driving back and forth over the streets below. Disoriented as I was, I didn't ask myself why. Having many beautifying treatments to undergo in the hours before the ceremony, I got up and quietly showered, all the while listening to this strange, repetitive buzzing. I was starting to think it wasn't trucks. Toweling off, while debating the merits of waking my fiance by turning on the hairdryer, there was a knock at the door. A phone call for me at the front dest. It was 6:30 AM.
"Sorry to bother you," R. began, "it is just that we are getting teargassed over here." Yes. Teargassed. Apparently, the teachers had upped the anty from peaceful, grimy camping rebellion to a more physical aggression, blocking the entrance to the local municiple building. Thus, the teargas.
I awoke M. and shared the "interesting" news. It was raining teargas down the street. We had hoped against rain for today and the skies were blue but there was still rain. Stinging, chemical rain. A former marine, M. and another "street smart" friend who spoke Spanish decided to do the rescuing. Unfortunately, they know exactly where the hotel was located. Directions like "follow your stinging eyeballs" were not the most reliable indicators. However, I did have a map. So, off they went with a shaky, pen-drawn map and their wits. The next tense hour and a half I waited with my friends and family on our hotel's rooftop terrace, watching the police helicopters (which turned out to be the buzzing sound I heard upon awakening) drop teargas various places around town. They flew right overhead our clan a few times but thankfully decided against gassing us for the time being. I consider that my wedding gift from Mexico!
To be continued... 

Me

This was taken by M. on the first day of our honeymoon in Cabo. 

First Post

It is Sunday morning. I have just finished eating a de-lish breakfast cooked by my gorgeous husband. This is his only day off and right now, he is cleaning the kitchen. How did I get so lucky? Monster is funny, thoughtful, hard working. Swoon! Ok, enough is enough. I am mostly writing this blog for myself to remind me of how good my life is right now, but in the process I would be loathe to make a hapless reader vomit.

The dark spot on the day is that in a few hours I must leave for LSAT class. I have been diligently attending these classes every weekend for the past three months and have another six weeks before the Big Test. I have also been studying at home for hours a day. Trying to get a high score so I have options after the test. Pretty boring, but IMO pretty necessary. I am trying to think about our future.

The best part is that I spend a lot of time at the bookstore. I love bookstores. The coffee, the cakes, the new books, browsing. I swear, if there was a college where you read at the bookstore instead of going to class, I would have learned so much more in four years! The food is better, too!