Frequent Citations

Outfits

I love fall.  The weather is neither too hot nor too cold, there's plenty of football to watch, the holidays are near but not so close it's time to stress about getting ready for them.

The other day I saw two perfect and completely different fall outfits as I was walking to work. The first one I saw was the rocker/schoolgirl look, but somehow tastefully done.  First of all, the woman was the perfect age to pull it off, and had wild corkscrew curls without a hint of frizz, so that was pretty amazing right there.  Her outfit was thigh-high cuffed black leather boots, short plaid skirt, short black leather jacket over a black top.  With very simple, elegant makeup she looked great. 

The other outfit was the antithesis of rocker/schoolgirl, more of a Grace Kelly look with a winter-white jacket with a little peplum, a straight black skirt ending in a ruffle that precisely matched the lines of the peplum, and ivory peep-toed pumps.  She topped it all off with a clean updo for her hair.

One of the many things I enjoy about people-watching in this town is seeing outfits like those, precisely right from head to toe.

I tried on, fell in love with, and resisted buying another pair of shoes.  Black oxfords, with a 3.5" stacked wood heel and wing-tip detailing -- they were adorable and looked great with jeans.  Oh well.  They also cost half a plane ticket.

Walking To Work

Every day it's an adventure.  The city is a kaleidoscope with sights of beautiful (or shocking or both) dresses, vignettes of men in a my-career-is-on-the-line hurry to catch a cab, toddlers holding umbrellas taller than themselves as they sob on the rainy sidewalk.

I can walk almost all the way to work in the shade, which I do now that the sun is stronger in the mornings.  I miss the sight of the Park, but I don't arrive at work with a sunburn.  So far hats have been an unworkable dream.

At any rate, this morning I was moving along, trying to get to work before a truly horrendously late hour (yesterday I met the associate I'm working with strolling in to the elevator bank at the same time I arrived; neither of us had left before midnight the night before).  But I noticed as I crossed the street that the shadows were pointing the wrong way.  I was definitely heading east, and the shadows were going from west to east, and it was (still) well before noon. 

I found this puzzling enough to glance around a bit (movie set?  Twilight Zone?  it's much much later than I thought?) and then I looked up and saw the explanation.  The sun was hitting a window high up in a tower and the reflected light was strong enough, and precisely focused enough, to be casting shadows from entirely the wrong direction.

So yes, I made it to work before noon.  To spend all of the day in a windowless room pulling the key documents out of an mass of imperfectly-chron'd boxes of paper for deposition outlines due (gulp!) in less than a week.  Egad. 

Springtime Blizzards

The other day as I was walking to work I espied early daffodil tips pushing up from the ground, and I came to a sudden and profound realization.  I want a pretty spring coat, and maybe even one that's not black.

Tonight, as I look out my window, all I see is white--the blizzard is landing, if a few hours late.  So I ordered boots (massive sale!) but no pretty spring coat.

Alas.

Adorability

I was walking home the other evening and came up upon two well-dressed gentlemen ambling along, deep in conversation.  They were walking considerably slower than I would normally expect a pair of businessmen to walk.  And one of them was stooping slightly over to the side.

Then I looked down and saw that he had his hand on the top of a tiny girl's head.  At least, I think the tot was a girl--she was so bundled up it was a little hard to tell.  She looked like she'd learned to walk all of about 5 minutes earlier.  It was a sweet picture, two affluent businessmen carrying on their business at the very slow pace of a toddler.

In other news:  fashion week begins on Friday, I think.  Supermodel citings will no doubt abound.

Bicycle Yoga

Yesterday TFL, GirlChild, and I ventured out on the town to shop for holiday goodies and gym shoes.  Good combination, no?  And while we were out, we saw a sign that said "Toga Bicycle."  Girlchild thought it said "Yoga Bicycle."

That would be the small, little known variety of yoga that has poses such as Reaching Kickstand, Bending Handlebar, Inverted Spoke, and Down Wheelie. 

After that excitement, the rest day was spent wandering around the neighborhood shops in all their glory, going into and promptly leaving one chain store with what looked like a Russian bread line--long, and never moving--and then decorating the apartment.  We have the tree decorated and lights along the bookshelves and it's looking pretty festive.  Still no cookies, but it might happen.  GirlChild brought home cookie cutters and we have a rolling pin and a pile of butter so you never know.  Baking could break out any minute.

This morning Boy arrived, about 40 hours late.  Traveling during winter holidays is always an adventure.  But now everyone is home, thank goodness.  Dogness is pleased.

Seasonal Sights

The walk to work has gotten much, much chillier this week.  It has, in fact, been downright cold.  We still haven't turned on the heat in the apartment, though.

The other morning I saw a Rolls Royce parked in front of one of the luxury hotels.  You see them from time to time around town, but they're still rare.  This one, however, had a vanity plate even I approved of:  Fantum 1.  Sweet.  Moves to number two on my list of acceptable vanity license plates. 

The Park has shed almost all its leaves now.  I can see skaters from my office window, swirling around the absurdly-priced rink.  Do you know they charge you if you just want to observe the skaters?  They are very silly.  Oddly, the few trees that still have leaves are mostly green.

Last night I had dinner with a somewhat random assortment of classmates to celebrate passing the Bar.  It was fun, although at one point they all started talking tax law, and even though I have a soft spot in my heart for tax a whole conversation about it can become numbing in short order. 

I have to shower and dash off to work, where I will likely be for the remainder of the weekend.  It's getting a bit more intense these days.  But I will bundle up on the way, look over my shoulder at the Park from time to time during the day, and at some point make my way back home for a simple and cozy late dinner with TFL.  Life could be worse.  It would be better if we sold or at least rented the flat (practically around the corner from the prez-elect's home! is only a slight exaggeration by real estate standards), but it could be much worse.

It Comes To This

The other night I was coming home and saw two Army transports of some kind parked in front of one of the ritzy hotels by the Park.  A whole swarm of Army men in uniform milled about on the sidewalk, smoking and drinking and looking the way Army men in their dress uniforms do--yummy handsome and distinguished.  It finally occurred to me that the next day was Veterans Day and they were probably in town for the battleship reopening hoopla or something.

This morning a whole line of Deloreans loitered in front of my office building.  One of them was green!  There must have been six or eight of them total, which was quite a sight.  A couple of dents here and there aside they still looked in great shape.  Funny, it's quite the dated design now, though, I think.  It wasn't a classic design like the English do where one Rolls or Jag or Bentley doesn't ever look that much different from another  (leaving aside the truly ancient Rolls, perhaps).  And it wasn't a stunning or sleek design like the Italians often do, timeless in their outrageously muscular way. 

Still, I enjoyed seeing them.

Tomorrow morning they release our Bar results.  Yeah.  I'm a wreck.  But I want to say now, for the record, before I get my results:  I love my job.  I really love what I do, even the dorky low-man-on-the-totem-pole stuff, and not just because they pay me well to do it.  So I hope I get to keep it.

Ack.

Deja Vu Again

I keep running into the same people, sometimes on purpose and sometimes by accident. They all have the same bleary-eyed and careworn look... yeah, former classmates.

I've run into them at coffee shops and on the bus, coming and going from class. And, of course, on a friend's patio where we gathered last night for drinks and commiseration. It's nice to keep seeing people for a little while before we scatter to the four corners.

We compare notes on bar exams, which states are covering which subjects, who's making flash cards, where people are studying. Sometimes we break out of the bar exam stranglehold on our lives and talk about clerkships and bar trips, or who's still looking for a place to live and have you sold your place yet? me neither.

We know each other so well in some ways, not at all in others.

Forsythia Blooms

The forsythia is in bloom, exploding all over the place.

Why does no one ever prune it properly? The right way to prune any shrub of that type, where long canes come up straight from the ground in clumps (think lilacs), is at ground level. Start at the bottom and you can prune away up to 1/3 of the shrub a year. Normally you would prune less than that, but if it's heavily overgrown you can hack off quite a bit.

If you butcher it by just cutting it back from the top (hedge clippers, anyone?) you'll end up with a boxy shrub that's more stick than wood, and with very few blooms. If you want those long, arching cascades of blossoms in the spring, prune from the bottom.

The park district is reseeding the Midway. I want to tell them that if they really want to keep the grass in good shape, they'll reseed twice a year instead of once, and more importantly they'll stop mowing it when it's soaking wet. Every summer I see them do it, send the mowing tractors out after heavy storms. All they leave behind are giant ruts and bent grass.

Sweet The Morning Air Of April

I walked through the Quad on my way to the gym this morning. The magnolia trees are blooming, the spring bulbs are flowering. In the early-morning stillness, the scent of the hyacinths floated through the air.

The law school needs magnolia trees. Right now all it has are big honey locusts, which are not exactly imposing (in which case I would be in their favor) and do nothing for the icy architecture, so they're the worst of both worlds. Low-growing, twisty magnolias would look charming and play up the building's exotic aspects (it does have a few).

Sometimes I remember that I am a gardener.