Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? 
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. 
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. 

  I do not think they will sing to me.”

–”The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” by T.S. Eliot

Patio time

Healthy trees shredded to kindling.

The debris across the lake is all that remains of a home.

A destroyed home.

The back of my co-worker’s home was obliterated.

Side view of the house.

Enough force to snap steel cabling.

More here.

This was a quarter of the crowd.  The indoor seating was filled.

Arsenal of Smokers

Dad’s Second Round

The condiments were awesome and freshly made.

Tilework on the veranda of the Mansion.

Cowboys

versus Indians

Cossacks

Pastures

More here.

When Matt and I went to Dallas for the weekend we boarded Hank at our veterinarian’s office per usual.  Since he had rolled in feces the morning we left we had him bathed as well.  When we picked him up on Sunday he seemed very lethargic.  I imagined he didn’t get a lot of rest while surrounded by other yapping dogs (and no doubt chiming in the cacophony himself), so I let him rest.  When I returned from work the next evening he was still listless, he felt very warm, and he began wincing when I would touch his back.  I waited until Matt arrived home from work and took Hank to the Emergency Vet.

Hank’s temperature had reached 107*F, and when his coat was parted bloody pustules were revealed scattered across his entire body.  The vet was not sure whether he had been burned or dropped and checked him in for the night.  Hank’s coat was shaved, and the offending vet was contacted.  They advised that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and requested Hank be transferred to their care.  I was obviously concerned about this arrangement, as was the treating vet, and it was decided that it would be best to keep Hank for a few more nights in the I.C.U. as he was still on I.V. fluids and antibiotics.

I visited Hank a few times while he was “in treatment” and he was clearly miserable.  He crawled into my lap at the office and fell asleep instantly.

Hank was finally released once his fever stayed down, and he was given many meds.  The offending vet paid the entire bill without complaint, fortunately.  When the results of the cultures came back, it became clear what had happened.  Hank had contracted pseudomonas bacteria while being bathed.  The groomer at the vet’s office did not sterilize his dilution bottles, and the bacteria had grown inside the bottles and had (unintentionally) been squirted all over Hank.  More info here.  Medication was quickly switched, and Hank seems to have made a full recovery.  Make sure you check with your vet/groomer to make sure their daily routine includes sterilizing their bottles and mixing fresh solution.

Remember: if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate.

Our first anniversary is just around the corner (this weekend, in fact), so in celebration I will be posting photos of the flower which adorned our cake: the sweet pea.  We have one pea plant in the garden that has begun to put out blooms, and I promptly photographed it with our new toy, the Nikon D3100.  I have not yet mastered the camera, as I had grown a bit too accustomed to using ye-olde-point-and-shoot.  When I have time, I am sure the 3100 and I will become close friends.

My new toy

Matt and I have had a few busy weeks, including a bowling tournament, a whirlwind trip to a wedding, one very sick pooch, two less sick humans, some surprisingly tasty sushi, and an awesome concert.  Hopefully more will follow, but until then, pictures!

Keep in mind, this is not an uncommon occurrence for a fancy, high-priced lawyer.  However, the firm I work for specializes in clientele of the “no income” persuasion; therefore, the chance to appeal a decision is rare at best.  So, this is the first opportunity I have had to actually critique my own presentation style, and…er..uh…my, well…my ability to speak clearly and form coherent, lucid arguments.  Ugh.

I placed the request for funding to order the transcript around a month ago.  Of course, receiving funds anywhere takes some time (although our finance department is awesome and always helpful and nice . Unfortunately, this month-long wait provides the stuttering seeds of doubt time to nestle their nice, strong root balls deeply into my young-attorney brain.  Needless to say, by the time I finally received the copy of my transcript I was a wreck, and sloughed off into a dark corner of the courthouse to pour over each and every mistake I made.

The bad:

1)  “Uh-huh.”  Oh yes, I say “uh-huh” as a response more than once.  Am I an adult?  It’s possible.  Do I know better than to use such colloquialisms in a professional setting?  Uh-huh.  Did that stop me?  Uh-uh.

2)  “Sorry.”  Apologizing definitely has a time and a place.  Unfortunately, I do it all the time.  Even in court.  Even when there is absolutely no reason for me to say “sorry.”  I use the word in much the same way others use “uh,” “ah,” and “um.”  It’s a space filler.  I can’t form a legal argument in two seconds?  I have to process the massive amounts of information I just received?  My client uses hard-core drugs and I just found it out when she passed me a note half-way through her custody trial?  I’m sorry.  Wait a minute, let me document ON THE RECORD any lapse in thought or derail of my mental process.  Sorry. Seriously.  At least the court reporter doesn’t document head-scratches and face slaps.  That’s a bonus.

3)  Long awkward pauses.  Do you know what those look like on a transcript …

–they look like this.  No matter what is happening in the background…

–a ticker-tape parade…

–a 16-year-old witness weeping hysterically for 15 minutes because you asked about some horrible, traumatizing event in her life…

–a child in a giant ham costume being chased by a crazed, racist rapist…

And when I interject, it looks like I am cutting the person off.  Awesome.  I’m not sure how to fix that.  Should I explain what’s going on before I break the exaggerated pause?  Should I not fret over it and go to bed?  Probably.

4)  Misuse of words.  I abuse my vocabulary when I am excited.  I use the word, “purported” instead of “proposed.”  “And when is the purported visitation to begin?”  Any idea of how big of an ass that make me appear?  Think elephant.  Think blue whale (if blue whales had defined asses).  Not to mention the fact that I was an English major.  I am amazed there isn’t a Sigma Tau Delta member walking around yanking under-grad honor society memberships.

The good:

Really, the benefits of reviewing a transcript are as follows (at least at this point):

1)  I expressed my argument well.  In between the random stutters, awkward pauses and various slang words, I managed to present my case–I lost, but that’s what the appeal is for.

2)  It’s a great, painful learning experience.  Will I say “uh-huh” in court again?  Undoubtedly.  Hopefully, the more embarrassed I am by it, the less I will use it.  Uh-huh.

3)  It is incredibly fun to read the transcript back in a Foghorn Leghorn voice.  I sound so official and sure of myself. Even stutters and pauses are better in a stereotypical southern accent.

“I, I, I say…Nice girl, but about as sharp as a sack of wet mice.”

Valentine’s Day is upon us again…time for me to post the eternally applicable gif I created in 2002 or 2003.  Tippy will, of course, recall the birth of this monster.  Long live the puking puppy!