Size Really Doesn't Matter

I have some earth-shattering news to share with all you ladies out there.  We are fooling ourselves each and every day with our negative self-talk about weight loss.

You know how it is, every morning you look in the mirror or step on the scale, and the negative thoughts start coming.  "I wish I could fit into my 'skinny' pants."  "Ugh, my belly is so fat!" "Why oh why did I eat that piece of cheesecake last night?"  My own usual thought was:  "If only I could lose ten pounds, I would be so much happier."

Guess what ladies?  I lost ten pounds.  But I'm shocked to realize that losing ten pounds has not made me a bit happier.  It has not changed my outlook at work, made me feel uber-confident giving presentations, made me feel more comfortable meeting clients for the first time.  I'm not happier in my personal life, more apt to go out late on Friday nights - none of the lies I have told myself over the years are true!  There is a bit of a thrill in putting on pants a size smaller than usual, but that thrill lasts just long enough for the next self-destructive thought: "Well, I'm sure I won't be this size for long..."

We need to learn to love ourselves, no matter what our size.    

Pauses

Have you ever had a moment where time unexpectedly stood still?  I'm not talking about your wedding day or the birth of your first child.  I mean a time when something suddenly hit you and your mind had to take a moment to process?  

A few years ago, I was experiencing health problems.  I was at the University of Michigan hospital, worried about a procedure.  My eyes were down as I walked through the hallway; I did not want to be there, I did not want to be alone.  Already late for my appointment, I found myself lost in the expanse of the hospital corridors with no sense where my appointment was.  I stopped for a moment in front of an old photo on the wall, looked up, and paused.

The photo was of medical students from 100 years earlier, students who had studied at the University of Michigan medical school.  They were so earnest in their work, so serious.  For a moment I stood stock-still, people had to walk around me.  I did not care.  The picture mesmerized me.  Although the students' clothing was dated, their faces looked just like any other student today.  One student in particular was looking at the camera, looking at me.  I stared at that student and thought: what was he thinking when that photo was taken?  Was he worried about an exam?  Thinking he did not fit in, that he was not at smart as everyone else in the room?  Was his mind elsewhere, was he thinking of the cute girl he had met the day before?  In that moment, I was stricken by the fact that we think of our grandparents, our great-grandparents as an outdated species that could be nothing like us.

Boy, is that wrong.

Tonight, my husband and I watched an episode of Boardwalk Empire, set in the 1920s. (Don't judge our HBO habit).  The final scene was an early-morning shot in which the citizens of Atlantic City lined the coast to catch a glimpse of the first female aviator to fly the span of the continent.  Um, that was strange.  Just today at work I had an email saying "Look outside!  The space shuttle should be overhead soon."  A co-worker told me that he had been coming back from court to find cars parked on the side of the freeway, people on the grass looking at the sky.  The space shuttle was flying by.  Literally, we are the same as those who have gone before.  

Let's not forget to pause.  To catch our breath.  Life is short.  

   

Climbing Out A Window

A few days ago, an amazon.com package appeared on my doorstep.  Joy of joys, amazon.com always means a new book!  The problem was, I did not remember recently placing an order.  Not one to ask questions when a new book is looming, I ripped open the package and there it was- a book I had ordered months ago but forgotten about:  The 100-Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson.  Greg's German colleagues had recommended it during one of his visits to Munich, and I had been waiting for the English translation to become available.

The book is intriguing- a man is scheduled for his 100 year birthday party when he realizes his life is far from over, he does not want to be in his nursing home another minute, and out the window he goes (he must have been spry for 100).  How many times have we, in our lives, wanted to do just what that man did?  Escape our reality - escape work deadlines, upset children, financial responsibilities - if only long enough to catch our breath before we get caught?  

Which leads me to a true story.  In court and very stressed out one week, I casually looked over to the Bailiff.  He gave me a smile and a nod of the head; I gave a nod in reply and dropped my eyes, noticing the hand cuffs strapped to his belt loop.  Handcuffs, I thought.  Ugh, it would suck to be in handcuffs, without a phone, e-mail or....heeeeeey, I thought.  Wait a minute.  No phone.  No e-mail.  No one from work could reach me! No WORK STRESS!!!  My mind was a whirlwind of desire - at that moment, for longer than I care to admit, I imagined how nice it would be to sit in a cell with nothing to do but read.  It sounded idyllic. For a few minutes, I imagined that jail was heaven.  When I got home and told my husband, he imagined I sounded crazy.  

Which leads me to my question of the day:  do you ever take time to be irresponsible?  Do you take an afternoon off to go to the park with your kids?  Do you sneak out of work early to meet your significant other on a weeknight, just the two of you?  I don't often, and feel sometimes like responsibility is stifling.  Maybe it is time for me to climb out the window.  

   

Days like today make me think of my grandparents, Alfred and Edna Judd: 

You see, today is hot outside.  Which makes me think of my grandparents, and wonder how on earth they stood the heat.   

My grandpa was a farmer, with property in southern Arizona.  Read: hot.  My grandpa was also modest.  Do you see the white, long sleeved collared shirt that he is wearing in this photo (taken, I think, within days of his elopement with my grandma- she was age 16!  But check out how handsome my grandpa is: can you blame her?  Anyway, I digress...)  From what I've been told, my grandpa wore long sleeved cotton shirts while working his Arizona farm and, at most, he would roll up his shirt sleeves.  My memories of my grandpa, who died when I was a child, were of him in long sleeves.   My question now is:  how on EARTH did anyone in an Arizona summer, working outside, survive in long sleeves??? 

I sure wish they were around to ask such questions.  I look at this photo and, as an adult, can completely relate to what I think their lives were like.  But I have so many questions.  They lost a child at age 7- how did they keep on living, ever smile again?  At times, they lived in poverty- how did they deal with those frustrations?  It would be such an interesting thing to sit them down and speak to them one on one, as adults.  It would take a month to answer all of my questions.      

Musings About California

I moved to northern California a little over a year ago. I'm still adjusting. For those of you who are considering a move, consider the following:

• Unlike in Michigan, summer does not happen here in June-August. It is cold in June-August, so forget wearing summer dresses except with sweaters and leggings. "Summer" in northern California happens in September/October. If you want to visit this area, do it after Labor Day.
• Just because it does not snow does not mean it is not cold during the winter months. My heavy coats, scarves, and gloves get plenty of evening use, even in California.
• The weather outside of my house in the morning is five degrees less than at my office in San Francisco. Greg, lucky dog, has the opposite- at his office, which is south of us, it is five degrees warmer than where we live. Odd, right?
• Don't underestimate the draining effect of a relatively long commute. That's your gym time, spent in the car.

More later.

The Hardest Hour in Recent Memory

At 6 p.m. on Friday, May 13, 2011, results of the California bar exam were posted on the state bar website. I'd taken the February exam, felt I did very poorly, and had been anxious and worried about it since the moment I walked out of the examination room. (This picture was taken the night before the exam started. You can tell it was not after the first day of the exam since I had an actual smile on my face instead of a look of utter panic).

My anxiety mounted as May 13 approached. The morning that results were posted, I vowed to keep myself busy and mentally occupied so that I did not have time to think about results. Instead, I ended up getting nothing done, and driving up and down the same street three times before giving up and going home. The hour before results were posted, I sat at my screen and refreshed the state bar website every single minute, watching the little countdown "sixteen minutes until results are posted." My sister-in-law, Sue, counted down with me and kept me relatively sane for that hour. Greg was stuck in court and could not be with me at the pivotal moment, when I went online and look at my results. I don't even remember exactly what they said, but because they were an entire sentence long; i.e., "this person's name appears on the examination pass list" I was sure that I did not pass- I figured if I had passed, it would read "PASSED." Only after re-reading the sentence several times did I realize I had passed, and even then I did not believe it until Sue logged onto the website as me and agreed that I had, in fact, passed.

Whew. What a relief to have that done and over with!! Now, on to bigger and better things...like getting married!

Bar Exam Blues

Bar exam results come out this Friday. Friday, May 13, that is. Do you suppose that means I will have good luck? I learned that the California Bar Examiners posted the questions from my February exam... should probably not have looked at them. I only have a vague recall of what I put for an answer on each of the questions anyway, so looking at them again simply made me feel worse about my performance rather than more confident.

The whole world will know if I passed, because they will all hear my scream of happiness! If I don't, I may be quiet for a while, before I regroup and move forward. At least I know one thing- I always do regroup and move forward. Sometimes it just takes a bit of down time first.

On Transitions, Kitchens, and Making A New Life

I've lived in California for almost four months. (I shouldn't count the first two months, which consisted of staying inside and studying for the bar exam. Results [gulp ... I'm not confident about my performance on this exam- its been a lot of years since I've had to take an exam!- and I think it would really stink to have to retake this exam ... gulp gulp gulp] come out on Friday the 13th. Gulp again). It has been a much bigger transition than I imagined. I'm still adjusting. I miss my chickens. I miss my friends, my job, my home. I miss having a life of my own. I miss knowing how to find a local Target without ending up on a never-ending bridge and paying a toll to get back across said bridge.

I'll be home for a visit soon.

A Sorry Little Student

In college and law school, I was generally a "B" student. I was pretty darned happy with my Bs, since I had two small children and didn't have (or take) much time to study. Yet, then and now I have had this back-of-my-mind guilt; a feeling that if I had tried a little harder, I'd have had straight As.

Fast forward about fifteen years. I've moved to California, given up my job (in a state that I am already licensed to practice law), and am sitting for the California bar exam. Turns out, I'd give an elbow for some guaranteed Bs right now. I have exactly no (let me repeat, "no") memory of the basic legal concepts I learned so long ago (or, more accurately, the basics are so inherent in my head now that I cannot explain "why" I know, for example, that evidence will be excluded- I just know it will. And this exam is all essays. In which I have to remember to explain those basics or I fail. As exhibited by the number of practice tests I've failed). I'm taking a bar review course with recent graduates- and it's kicking my tail. Because I haven't seen much of the material in so many years, I feel like I am cramming for a final exam to cover three years of school in six weeks.

I've no more mental energy. Which is a shame, since my big exam is exactly a week away. I'm exhausted, I don't feel well, I'm not feeling strong even in areas I regularly practiced (such as the rules of evidence), and if I see a single other California distinction, I may actually scream.

Loudly.

Settling In

I'm living in California now. It's been 19 days. Here's how one knows that Kirsten lives somewhere:

(You can't see the whole thing in the picture and I have another level of shelving on the way...I have a lot of books waiting to live in their new home still!). I've been studying for the California bar exam and really have not liked it much. Today, I decided to notice things that I DO like about studying for the exam. Here they are:

1. It's nice to be out the door with hardly any fuss. Jeans, tshirts, a little mascara. I'll just start twisting my hair the moment I start concentrating anyway, so why bother prettifying it?
2. I can mix up my study spots. The Belmont library, the office at home, the bed... today I realized on a sunny day, I can even study outside in January here!
3. The mints they leave on the tables at the hotel where the bar review course is held are tasty.
4. I don't get unexpected "emergency" calls that have to be dealt with pronto at work.
5. If I pass this thing, I'll feel pretty smart.

Looking at the positives is way better than stressing out and hating the process! Since I have to do it anyway, I'll look for positives each day. Wish me luck!

Fear

I keep waking up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and I find myself doing strange things. Like baking. Making a grocery list. Organizing a closet. For those who know me- I'm no baker. Or cook. (I am, however, an excellent closet organizer).

The last time I remember doing these middle-of-the-night activities is when I was studying for the bar exam in Michigan, no job in sight, kids to support, and fearing failure.

Now, I'm moving to California, getting married, and...you guessed it...taking another bar exam.

I'm scared.

The only benefit I see from all of this fear is those who get to eat my baking, my cooking, and see my nice clean closets.

A Time of Change

2010-2011 is a time of change.

• I am moving.


• I am becoming a student again and taking a new bar exam.


• I am leaving a law firm that I love.


• I am getting married.


• I am leaving my friends and chickens behind (at least for a time).

At times, all of this change is scary. At other times, it is exciting. In any case, change is coming!

On Births, Parties, and Late Nights Alone

My daughter turned 21 last weekend. We planned a party, and, as usual, I went a little overboard- you know, flowers, too many snacks- the sort of thing that only the party host notices. The party was SO much fun, and about 1 a.m. we dropped the new "adult" and her friends off in East Lansing to finish their night without Mom.

I walked in to the dark house - what a mess!- and sat on the sofa. Alone. I had placed baby photos around for the party, and I started remembering the day that Morgan was born...almost exactly 21 years earlier to the hour (Morg was born at 3:11 a.m.). I started to feel very lonely. I stared at the flowers that I had arranged two nights before (more because I like them than because they were a necessary party decor), and my heart began to sink. I tried calling a friend, but he did not pick up. Tears came to my eyes as I realized how alone I am sometimes...how alone we all feel in the world sometimes...especially when it comes to the wee hours of the morning, after the party ends.

Then Morgan called. Almost exactly 21 years to the minute since she was born, she called to tell me thank you for making her birthday so special. Her call meant the world to me, and it reminded me that even when we feel alone, people who love us are only a phone call away.

Re-Do

Have you ever looked back at your day and determined that you could (should) have done about 30 things differently? From the way you handled a meeting, to the tone of an email, to the tone of being a mom? That's me today. I'd like a re-do.

Faith

Life can be crystal clear at 2 a.m. Sometimes, in the early morning hours, far away from home, one remembers that the only way to control the future is to let go and to have a little faith.

The Big Three-Nine

I turned 39 years old today, and it is only fitting that I post to this blog, which I started two years ago when I feared turning 37. This birthday was so much easier than 37. I just don't do well with those 7's!

Today was a perfect day. I spent time with my chickens, saw some old friends (nevermind that they are on tv/movies and are not actually my friends...), enjoyed a very long liesurely bike ride, and did some shopping.

I am content.

The Rocking Chair

An empty rocking chair sits in my room. It is an antique- not at all my usual decor- but I have rocked in it for many years while visiting at my friend Lisa's house. When Lisa and her family recently moved, the rocking chair came to live with me. I think it likes it here. It hasn't complained.

Anxiety and Me

I'm anxious today. I don't like it, and would love tips from the rest of you on how to stop feeling it. Argh!

Fun Traditions

At the end of this month I will head to New Orleans to attend Jazzfest, a multi-stage music festival, for the third consecutive year. I can't wait. I look forward to the event not because I love music (which I do), and not because New Orleans is much warmer than home (which it is). Instead, I look forward to having full days listening to music and sitting in the sun with good friends. Friends are the key. I love the idea of an annual tradition that brings together folks from all over the country who don't have time to regularly schedule visits, and I'm glad that the folks who have been doing this for many more years than I said "the more the merrier!" a few years back and invited an interloper. I can't wait for the fun this year!

The Sea

There is a certain melancholy to the sea. Yet at the same time, a joy. This past week I did a fair bit of staring at the ocean, thinking about the way that the vast amount of saltwater seems from afar so soft, cozy, almost inviting. The waves seem soft and kind. But when I am immersed and can no longer touch bottom, instead of calm, I feel panic and worry that the sea could swallow me. I stay safely close to shore.

Metaphor for my life?