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!