Single Again!

We finally reached an agreement and submitted the consent decree to the judge on March 6.  She signed it in record time on March 8. (Usually judges take 3 to 6 weeks to get around to signing a consent decree.)

I am single again!!

We closed on the sale of my interest in the marital home to the ex-husband.  I got the cash for my half of the equity.  I made an offer on a townhouse on Monday.  After a couple of counteroffers, the seller and I agreed on a price and, if all goes as planned, I will officially be a homeowner again on April 20.

I can move out of here on April 22!!

Life is good!

Update re: divorce status

Things were rough--really rough--for a while.  We are still living in the same house while trying to separate our lives.  It is not easy.  But we are both too stubborn to move out.  I have my reasons, he has his.  Both of us are right.  Both of us are wrong.  As in the rest of our marriage, there is no easy way to resolve the conflict.  So here we both stay.  In separate rooms.  Trying to be civil to each other.  Both wishing the other would just leave already.

He is going to buy the house and pay me for my part of the equity.  Despite a too-low appraisal, we have finally agreed on an amount that he will pay to me for me to sign the house over to him.  Once the cash-out refi/sale closes, I can use my part of the equity money for a down payment to buy a new house.  He thinks I should move out immediately and permanently because he is buying the house.  I think he should move out temporarily while I pack my stuff and prepare to move, both so that I have easy access and time to pack and because all the bills are in my name and I don't think he can afford to pay them all, and I can't afford to rent somewhere else to live and also pay toward his living expenses here.  He could, for example, move into his mom's or his friend's spare bedroom, probably cheaply or for free.  I would have to rent an apartment.

But things are a little better lately.  We almost have all of the terms of the consent decree worked out.  We are coparenting reasonably effectively, as always.  And finally, he is able to talk to me about issues without assuming that (as a lawyer who used to do divorce law) I am automatically trying to screw him over at every turn.  He seems to have finally accepted that I am actually trying to be fair to both of us, but that we might occasionally disagree about what is "fair."

He also seems to have finally understood that he, too, will have the potential for far greater happiness than he has had in recent years after the divorce is final.

Progress.  I am so happy for it!

Trump's Election Caused My Divorce

I told my husband that I wanted a divorce back in October.  I asked if he would like to go to a mediator to try to settle all the issues and then file a consent decree, instead of litigating everything in court. He refused to talk about it and refused to even talk about when he might be willing to talk about it, saying, "this is a bad time" and  "maybe after the holidays."

Truth be told, I might've deferred to my soon-to-be-ex-husband's desire to wait until January to discuss divorce, but for Trump's election.... See, I knew that I wasn't going to change my mind, so waiting seemed a little pointless. But I typically like to try to make others happy, so I waited a couple of weeks....

...until, on November 8, the unthinkable happened:  Trump got elected.

I am a hardcore hippie liberal who supported Sanders in the primary.  My soon-to-be-ex-husband is a Republican.

I can't stand Trump.  Policies aside, he seemed to me to be a racist, misogynistic, power-hungry, bullying narcissist with a tendency to overreact to perceived slights and with no experience, little knowledge, and no interest in learning anything about foreign policy.  In short, completely unqualified to be President, and a jerk besides.  I am terrified that he will start a global nuclear war in reaction to some perceived insult from a foreign leader.

My soon-to-be-ex-husband liked him. During the primary season, as we were arguing about Trump, I told him that if Trump got elected, I'd divorce him. I was kind of serious even then.  I have a hard time understanding how we have drifted so far apart in our core values.  He seemed to admire Trump's blustering, bullying, assaholic ways.  I noticed more and more that the things I dislike most about my soon-to-be-ex-husband are traits that he shares with Trump...

I never thought it would happen.  But it did. They announced that Trump had won the election.

And suddenly, I felt that I had to be divorced, ASAP.

See, I can deal with a certain amount of sadness in my life.  I can take a sorry excuse for a marriage if the world outside my home is tolerable.  I can take an intolerable president (Bush, for example), if my home life and mariage are tolerable.  But when both are intolerable, I can't take it.

When my marriage first really became intolerable, part way through Bush's second term, I got very depressed.  I was barely functional and many days would not have gotten out of bed except that I had kids to care for.  I never want to feel that way again.

Then Obama got elected, life was cheerier in general, and I became much more functional and less depressed, though still unhappy in my marriage.

But when we elected the narcissstic orange man as POTUS, despair set in.  I cannot take four to eight years of both my home life and the world at large sucking.  I would likely kill myself from despair if forced to endure both.

I can't control who is president, but I can damn sure control whether I'm married or not.

So, two days after the election, I filed for divorce.

It's not really fair to say Trump "caused" my divorce.  I would have ended up divorced eventually.  But his election was the precipitating event.

I want to be happily divorced for at least some amount of time before the nuclear holocaust begins.

Dental implants--or, my oral surgeon was awesome!

Dental implants:  Best idea ever!

The oral surgeon was so kind and competent, not like that sadistic endodontist.

They took X-rays and concluded I was a great candidate for the implant surgery.  Plenty of bone in which to successfully place the posts.

Not a fun process, though.

I went in last October for the posts to be implanted.  Posts are the metal pieces to which the fake teeth will be attached.

The process wasn't fun, involving drilling and putting metal nail-like things into my jaw.  Two of them. One near the front, on the right side; another near the back, on the left side.  I was quite sore for a couple of weeks, and the stitches were... disconcerting.

At least my oral surgeon prescribed appropriate pain meds.  A few days' worth of Vicodin.

Then I had to let my jaw heal for six months.  It was hard to chew at first, with sensitive gums on both sides, but it quickly got better.

My wonderful, compassionate dentist made me a little fake removable tooth to fill the gap near the front of my mouth, sort of like a denture, to use when I needed to make a good impression (like in court or at a meeting at work).  I couldn't eat with it, but I could talk and smile without showing a big gap in my teeth.

In April, I went back to the oral surgeon to have the implants "uncovered"--i.e., he cut through my gums so the posts could be used to attach the new fake teeth.

Then I went to my wonderful, compassionate dentist, who modified the fake tooth denture thingy to fit with the newly uncovered posts and took casts so he could make the two fake teeth.

A few weeks later, I went back to the dentist and had the fake teeth installed.

They are amazing!  Just like real teeth!  I can chew normally again!  I can smile without being self-conscious!

All in all, life is good.

The Second Root Canal

I told you all before about my first root canal, the one that took me totally by surprise, given my prior perfect-teeth condition.

The second time it happened, last year, I nipped it in the bud early.  I recognized that particular sensitivity to heat, cold, pressure...  I knew right away that I had cracked another tooth.  I regretted all the ice I had chewed for years and years before that first root canal.

This time, I engaged in no denial.  I went straight to the dentist and said, "I think I have another cracked tooth."  He took X-rays but said that there was no clear crack visible, maybe just a little shadow that could be a problem, and referred me to the endodontist for a second opinion.

I walked across the parking lot to the endodontist's office, referral slip in hand.  Could they get me in today?  Yes!?  Thank heavens!

The endodontist took more X-rays and poked around a bit and declared that, indeed, I had another cracked tooth.  Did I want a root canal today, or just remove the tooth?  She recommended trying the root canal

I said ok.

The root canal didn't work.  The tooth split.  It had to be removed.

After the removal, I asked for a prescription for a couple of days' worth of pain meds.  They said no(!)  They don't prescribe pain meds.  They recommend that you just take OTC Advil plus Tylenol.  I explained that the last time I'd had a root canal and tooth extraction, I had thought I'd get through it with aspirin, Tylenol, and/or Advil, but had ended up needing the Vicodin that had been prescribed. With just the Tylenol and Advil, I had not been able to sleep because the pain was so intense.  I further explained that I needed only two days' worth of pain meds.

They said, "There are too many addicts.  We don't prescribe anything, ever."

I said, "If you had told me that before the procedure, I would have never consented to it and would have gone elsewhere."

(LegalMist's life lesson:  always ask about pain med policy before consenting to a dental procedure.)

They said, "It will not hurt as much as it did before you came in."  I said, "It already hurts more than it did before I came in because I came in at the first sign of pain and cracked tooth, based on my prior experience.  And besides, I know from experience that the pain will keep me from sleeping for two nights.  I did not pay $800 to have a root canal/tooth extraction (and have a tooth extracted!!) just to get two days' worth of drugs that I could probably buy on the street for less than $40."

They said, "Sorry, we can't help you. "

I said, "You people are sadists!  This is like 'Little Shop of Horrors!' This is why people hate endodontists!"

I walked back across the parking lot to my dentist's office and explained the problem.  My compassionate dentist gave me a prescription for a few days' worth of Vicodin.  The man (now retired) is a saint.

Sure enough, I needed the pain meds.  I would not have slept for two days without them.

(I have since that time told two people not to go to that endodontist and have told my new dentist that he should never send anyone to her, ever.  I hope he takes that advice.)

I still hadn't gotten the implant to replace the first lost tooth.  It was in the back, not really visible.  And the procedure promised to be expensive, time consuming, and potentially painful, so--as any normal person would do--I had procrastinated.

But this second one was near the front and visible when I smiled, making me self-conscious and afraid to smile.

I knew I had to get two implants ASAP.  Ugh...

Next time...
Implant procedures:  not fun!
Implant results:  awesome!

The spider

I got a new car.  It's a 2017 Fiat 124 Spider.  Here is a photo:

Gorgeous, right?  It's a convertible.  It is an awesome car.  Fun to drive.  Stick shift.  Turbo.  Quick 0 to 60 ( or 80... ).  Best car ever!

As my friend Sandy said, "Way to rock the midlife crisis, LegalMist!"

Question:  does it count as a midlife crisis car if you have wanted it since you were 25 but couldn't make it work until now?  Actually, I wanted a Mazda Miata when they came out in 1989.  Here is a 1989 Miata:

Cute, right?

But I was just about to start law school (in 1990) and couldn't afford one.  So in 1992, I got a used 1987 Honda Prelude instead.  It was awesome too. Sporty. Stick shift. Moon Roof.  Quick acceleration.  Fun!

Then I graduated, got married, had kids, and a Miata just wasn't practical.  In fact, I had to sell the Prelude to get a car with 4 doors and room for a child safety seat.  I got a Toyota Corolla (the "Green Lady").

Well, LegalMist's Daughter (LMD) is off to college this fall, leaving only LegalMist's Son (LMS) as a potential passenger (I am planning a divorce, remember?), so a two-seater became  a possibility... I decided to get that Miata.

But then I read the Consumer Reports car guide and saw the Fiat 124 Spider, reinvented for 2017.  It was even prettier than the Miata.  Sporty.  Convertible.  Cute...  I held out for the test drive.  Finally, on July 12, the spider arrived at the dealer... I showed up right when they opened to test drive the car.  Drove the automatic.  The stick shift.  The upgraded, all-options version.  The stripped down, no frills version. Looked at all the colors.  Considered all the options.

Side note:  I loved the blue one.  But to get blue, one had to buy the "Prima Edizione" version with all options, including automatic transmission (what's the fun in that?!) and leather seats (in Arizona, I prefer cloth).  They only made 124 of them (get it? The "124" spider?), and they came with the free t-shirt and poster and a numbered plaque on the dashboard to tell you which one you got.  But it cost $11,000 more than the stick-shift, cloth-seated model that I preferred.  In the end, I decided that blue paint and automatic transmission was *not* worth $11,000, so I bought the gray one pictured above.  Here is a photo of the pretty blue one:

Nice, huh?  But I think the gray is pretty too.

I love my car.  It is so fun to drive to work now.  It makes me smile every time I see it.  I call it my "Midlife Crisis Mobile," and it is a bright spot of joy in my otherwise not-as-joyful-as-I-wish-it-were life.  At least on the way to and from work, I can pretend to be the happy, carefree young person that I used to be instead of the somewhat sad, about-to-be-divorced, almost-old person that I actually am.


The car turns heads, even if I don't any longer.

Divorcing this narcissist will be hell on steroids...

No one gets married thinking they will get divorced.

Well, maybe some people do, but then they are fools.

But let me give you some free advice:  Before you get married, think about how a divorce would go, if it were to come to that, sometime in the distant future.  And then don't marry anyone who you would not want to have to try to divorce.

I knew from the beginning that my then-boyfriend could be mean and vindictive if he felt he had been "wronged."  I watched him treat others badly and seek petty revenge when he felt they had treated him badly.

But I was in love, and so was he, and at the time, we were nice to each other.  He was fun to be with, creative, smart, funny, adventurous, romantic...  We both thought we would be friends forever, regardless of what else might happen between us.

We were wrong.

We have tried marriage counseling.  It helped, marginally, for a while.  The counselor would tell us both things that we should work on to improve our relationship.  But instead of taking the counselor's advice and applying it to himself, my husband too often used it as a weapon against me, as in "The doctor said you are supposed to ____" or "are not supposed to ___" -- all the while, not working on the issues the counselor had asked him to work on.  He wouldn't take seriously the "couples exercises" the counselor assigned -- the ones in the book designed to build trust and understanding.  He would say they were "silly" or "goofy" and he didn't want to do them.  If I pushed the point, he would give short or flip answers to the questions asked.  I gave up.

Eventually, I gave up on the marriage. I got tired of giving and not feeling appreciated or loved.  The constant criticism is just too much to bear. I guess a part of me felt like, if he was going to criticize constantly, he might as well have something to criticize.

At this point, we are not friends, and we are not lovers.  There is open hostility, snide remarks made in front of the kids, and a complete lack of communication about many issues.  It is time to end this marriage.

It is not good for me.  It is not good for him.  It cannot possibly be good for the kids.

And yet I dread it, because I know he will be manipulative, vindictive, and downright mean.  He thinks I have treated him badly.  I think he is wrong, but it doesn't matter what I think.  I know what is coming.

I have assisted so many others through this process.  I have seen the damage a manipulative, vindictive, and mean person, with the "right" ("wrong?") lawyer, can inflict on a soon-to-be-ex-spouse, on the kids, on the family as a whole.

I do not want my kids to be in this crossfire.

But the only way through to the other side, to peace and the potential for real happiness, is a divorce.

Camporee

I took my son to the Boy Scouts' "Camporee" last weekend.

It was so much fun!  And so hard, too...  I am *not* a natural camper.  This was a real effort for me.  I love my warm soft bed, flush toilet, and daily shower.  Camping involves none of these things and so I don't do it often.  I love the outdoors, but usually only if I know I can sleep in my own bed at night.

We left Friday after my son got out of school.  Arrived in Pine, AZ, at Camp Geronimo, around 6 p.m.  Selected our campsite and hauled our stuff up from the car.  Set up the tent in the dark (not fun!  Thank goodness the troop leader and his wife helped out!).  Drove the car back down to the parking lot and hiked the mile back up to the campsite.  Had some fried chicken we'd brought along for dinner.  Went to the scout ceremony/ meeting and sat in the increasing chilly-ness.  Slept on the rather uncomfortable camping pads and woke up cold at 4 a.m., added extra blankets and woke up at 5:30 a.m. with the sun...

And then the actual fun started.  Breakfast in the cold-but-warming beautiful morning with birds singing, scout flag ceremony, dressed in the "Class A" uniforms for the "inspection," and then more scout ceremonies...  all done by probably 8 a.m.  Then some scout activities/challenges for the kids --  involving problem-solving, teamwork, and fun.  The theme was "Zombies," so several of the events required completing them within a time limit before the "Zombies" were released.  There was a fellow applying Zombie make-up to anyone who wanted it...  although most of us adults looked like zombies even without the makeup, after a night spent setting up a campsite and sleeping, very little, in the cold!

Then we had lunch, and then there was hiking, crawfish-catching, and lots of unstructured, kid-led games like Zombie tag, "infected," capture-the-flag, pinecone wars, something resembling lord of the flies and pinecone-throwing, and random explorations of the gorgeous, huge wooded camping area.  Meanwhile, the adults supervised some and hung out a lot, getting to know each other and enjoying the birds and the blue sky with pretty little clouds and the trees and the lack of biting insects and the sound of the wind in the trees.  It was awesome.

Later that evening, after dinner, there was another flag ceremony at sunset, and then a camp-wide meeting at which my scout's Webelos den and my scout's host-boy-scout troop tied for first place for the campsite cleanliness and uniform inspection prize -- both groups scored a perfect 100%!  Each group won large portable grill, to be used for future campouts!  Very exciting!

I met a fellow who is the grandfather of one of the Webelos.  I had met the Webelo's mom before, and she is really nice, too.  He lives down the street and around the corner from us, and works in a building two blocks from where I work.  Such a small world we live in...  He loaned me a jacket, because I forgot to bring my warm toasty one.  He is a soft-spoken, kind-hearted, handsome, smart, sweet man about 15 years older than me.  I have to admit to having a small crush on him.  If I weren't married, I'd have been flirting with him...  As it was, we enjoyed looking at all the stars that can't be seen from the Valley of the Sun because of the light pollution and talking about our jobs and kids/grandkids.

Then we had a great big campfire and roasted marshmallows and made s'mores (yes, the boy scouts love them as much as the girl scouts who invented them), cleaned up a bit, put out the fire, and then slept in our tents in the cold again on the hard ground softened only somewhat by thin camping sleep-pads and bags, woke up at 5:00 a.m. with the sun listening to the birds sing, had another flag ceremony, broke down the camp, and headed back to civilization with a new appreciation for our warm comfortable homes, soft beds, heated bathrooms, and showers. 

Life is good.

Best. Friend. Ever!

The other day, I posted about my "bestest friend in the whole world" who sent me the wonderful Contigo travel mugs for Christmas.  I have known her for over 40 years (yes, since preschool!), and she truly is an amazing woman.  She has raised / is raising three wonderful boys, while running a successful bankruptcy law practice in South Carolina.  She is smart and beautiful and kind and really just the BEST friend.

Today, I want to tell you that, in addition to my "bestest friend in the whole world," I also have a "best friend ever," whom I have known for over 30 years (since middle school) and who, on a whim and because we haven't seen each other for like 6 years, invited me to come visit her in Birmingham, Alabama, to see the band "Little House" (the musicians are friends of ours) play.

We are planning the trip to coincide with Do Dah Day, which is a fun annual music festival in Birmingham that has been around for 34 years (click the link above to check it out - it's awesome! - and click here for more information about the origins / history of this quirky and fun local event).  It has the usual festival things -- music, food, art, kid activities, a parade (I love a parade!), and lots of fun.  Little House is playing at the festival. 

My best friend ever used to be heavily involved in organizing and promoting Do Dah Day.  I think she has reduced her involvement in it more recently, but still attends every year.  It is a great festival and raises money every year for deserving local charities that benefit homeless animals.

My friend even offered me free plane tickets (using frequent flier miles) and a bedroom in her house so that I would have no excuse to say "no"! 

But here's the clincher, for me: The trip offers the opportunity for me to see my friend's older child, who was a newborn the last time I was there, and to meet her younger child, whose photos I have seen on Facebook but have never met, and who is totally adorable.

Needless to say, it is an offer that cannot be refused!  So I am going to Alabama for Do Dah Day!  I can't wait!

****

And I have to confess that I have at least four other "best friends" who I totally love for various reasons, not all of them having to do with receiving awesome travel mugs or free plane tickets to Do Dah Day in Birmingham.

I am truly blessed to have so many wonderful friends.  :)

Nothing Bad Happened

Lenore Skenazy, over at freerangekids.com, asked her readers to post in the comments on her blog about a time that nothing bad happened when they let their kids do something that others might have considered dangerous.  I wrote sort of a long story there in her comment section (although I confess I forgot to start with her suggested opener, "nothing bad happened when...").  I thought I might as well post it here, too.  If you'd like to read other stories about kids doing dangerous things that worked out ok, check out Lenore's blog post and comments here.  The upshot is, most kids are capable of a lot more than we give them credit for!  We should start giving them credit for being able to handle more things!

Here is my story about when nothing bad happened:

*************

I am (or at least, I was) apparently the world's worst babysitter.

Before I had kids, when I was in my late 20's, I babysat for a friend who had two kids, a boy, age 4, and a girl, age 8.

I had babysat lots when I was a teen, for a few hours at a time, and never had any problems at all, and I had been around plenty of my friends' and relatives' kids since that time, so I felt well-qualified.

My friend asked me to keep her kids at her house for a weekend, from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon.

I showed up Friday evening and brought the kids Happy Meals.  First mistake -- I thought I should get a "boy toy" for the boy and a "girl toy" for the girl, or at least two different toys so that they would, together, have more cool toys to play with.  Turns out I was supposed to get two identical toys so no one would have to be jealous that the other kid got a "better" toy.

Despite this "disastrous" start, the parents left me in charge anyway and took off for their destination, reminding me not to feed the kids too much junk food, and telling me to "have fun."

Saturday morning, the boy had a pee-wee league tee-ball game at a local park / recreation center, so I took the kids to it.  The little boy had to go to the bathroom, so I walked him to the restrooms.  He assured me he could handle the bathroom by himself, so I waited outside the men's room door while he went in.  No one else was around.  After a while, I heard the toilet flush and then the sink running, then heard "scuffling" on the other side of the door.  I pushed it gently to help the little guy open it, and he came out, smiling / happy.

Saturday afternoon, I put the little guy's booster seat in my car and took the kids to the zoo, bringing healthy snacks in the form of carrots, grapes, and mixed nuts.  The kids loved the snacks and had a great time at the zoo.

Sunday afternoon, the kids asked if we could ride bikes to the neighborhood park near their house.  I asked if they knew how to get there and they said yes.  We set out with me walking, the girl riding her "big kid bike," and the boy riding his bike with training wheels.  The girl would ride ahead and then wait for us at each stop sign.  Sure enough, she knew the way perfectly.  They wanted me to go get the car and drive them home, but I refused to leave them alone at the park in order to walk home and get the car, and so I made them ride their bikes the whole way back home.  They complained that they were tired, but we made it.  It was probably half a mile each way.  The kids were pretty tired after that, and sat and drank water and watched TV while I fixed them some dinner.  But they were happy and said they wanted me to come visit them again some time.

When the parents returned that evening, I found out I had subjected both kids, but especially the four-year-old, to many incredible and unacceptable dangers:

*  pedophiles in the bathroom! ("he's NEVER been to the bathroom by himself before!!  What if someone else had been in there?!?  What if he got stuck in the stall?!?");

*  potential choking hazards! ("admittedly somewhat unlikely but you could have at least cut the grapes in half!");

*  potential deathly allergic reaction to peanuts! ("the kids have never had nuts before!!")  [as an aside, you'd think the parents might have warned me if they were worried about that one!];

* risk of getting impossibly and irreparably lost!  ("How did you even find the park?  How were you sure you'd know the way home?!?")  [As if their 8 year old were completely incompetent to find her way home, and as if there were no other persons in the entire neighborhood to ask, if we did get lost...]

*  risk of heat stroke or heat exhaustion! ("But it's so far to the park!  They rode the WHOLE WAY there AND BACK?!?");

*  risk of dying by being run over by a car!  ("you had to cross three streets to get to the park!!") [note:  they were neighborhood streets, with one lane in each direction...].

Geez, I thought the kids and I had enjoyed a great fun weekend, one that would be the envy of any kid anywhere, but it turns out that, in fact, I am a horrible child endangerer!

They never asked me to babysit again...

*********

Have you ever subjected your kids, or someone else's kids, to an activity or situation that others judged you a "bad parent" for?

"Ask and Ye Shall Receive"... or, "Wake Up and Look Around, You Idiot!"

We had a big dust storm two days ago here in the Valley of the Sun.  The wind blew and blew, and the dust was so thick it looked like fog.  It wasn't quite a "Haboob" like the one I wrote about a couple of years ago, along with a cool video, here -- it did not have the rolling clouds of dust you get with those -- but it was very windy and dusty for most of the day.

Then in the evening, it rained for about 5 minutes.

Five minutes was just enough rain to clear the skies of all that dirt - yay! .... and deposit it all onto my poor car -- bummer!

So after the 5 minutes of rain, my car looked like I had gone off-roading for hours through the mud.  It was literally covered.  It was muddy brown instead of silver-gray.  I could hardly see out of the windshield when I got in the car to take the kids to school the next morning (yesterday).  So I drove straight to the gas station and washed the windshield.  Better for driving, yes, but my car still looked a mud cake.

It was cloudy and a little windy again yesterday so I didn't want to wash the car - figuring either it would rain and this time would rain long enough to clean my car or it would rain for 5 minutes again, just long enough to make the car dirty, and either way, washing it first was a waste of time.

It didn't rain again.  This morning, the skies were clear blue, with only a few little puffy white pretty clouds.  And my car still looked like I had taken it off-roading, which might be an OK look if it were an SUV, but it's not - it's a Lincoln Town Car - and so it just looked silly.  And crappy.  And sort of embarrassing.

So I drove over to the car wash near my house - the kind you drive through and it washes the car for you, because that's all I had time for before meeting my client before the court hearing.

Everyone else in the neighborhood apparently had the same idea, because the cars were lined up out the driveway of the car wash place and halfway up the street!  No way I had time to wait in that line.

I thought of another automatic car wash place, not too far out of the way, and drove there.  Same thing - line around the building and out into the street.  Ugh!  Passed another one on the way to the freeway -- same thing -- huge line!

I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to drive around with my car looking like a muddy mess, and I drove toward the Courthouse.  I stopped at the traffic light just before the parking lot for the Court building and I sat there berating myself, "Dang, I wish I could have washed my car.  I hate that all the car washes were so full this morning.  I should have done it yesterday evening...  I hope my client doesn't see this mess..."

And then I noticed it.  A car wash!  Right across the street from the Court building!  A drive-through one!  With only one car waiting to enter!

I pulled in, paid my $7, drove into the car wash with my ugly brown muddy mess of a car, and emerged from the other side in my beautiful gleaming silver Lincoln Town Car...  oh, happy day!  Suddenly everything felt brighter, lighter, and more wonderful!

I'm still not sure if all my wishing made the car wash magically appear, as if in a dream, or if it's been there all along and I just never noticed it.  Either way, it felt like a gift from heaven!

Update, just in case I have any readers left...

Since the last time I posted, here is a quick summary of what has happened in my life:

Work:

* Lots of depositions have been taken, of witnesses and experts.

* Lots of disclosures and discovery documents have been drafted and updated.

* Numerous emails, letters, motions, and other litigation-related written volleys have flown across my desk and the desks of opposing counsel.

* Numerous telehone calls, with clients and with opposing counsel.

* A couple of court hearings.

* One (unsuccessful) settlement conference - it is hard to settle when the other side refuses to budge from their "$0" number.

* One (unsuccessful) attempt to submit an official bid in response to an RFP from the State for mediators.  I didn't receive the required insurance documents in time.  It didn't help that my insurer promised them weeks before, then did not timely deliver.  But the bottom line is that I should have followed up sometime before the day before the bid was due.

* Numerous job applications and a couple of interviews.  No bites so far.

Family:

* My daughter finished her first swim team season, having improved her "personal best" times substantially, and started her first-ever high school basketball season.  Turns out high school basketball is a lot more intense than junior high.  She is exhausted after every practice.  Her first game is this weekend. I am supposed to run the time clock and I am terrified of making that damn (LOUD) buzzer go off at the wrong times.

* My son got off to a good start in school this year, with his teacher saying he is a great kid and diligent worker in class (first time ever!!).  However, yesterday he complained the teacher was mean to him -- which means he probably did something annoying and got called out for it.

* Our dog, Sparky, died.  He had been losing weight over the summer, and we took him to the vet.  After several expensive vet visits, they figured out he had "tick fever."  They put him on a lengthy regimen of antibiotics and steroids, but he continued to lose weight initially.  He was skin and bones for a while, but by October he had recovered from the tick fever and was feeling happy again, and he had regained most of the weight.  Then he died suddenly, in the space of hours on October 21, from "bloat."  I had never heard of it before my poor dog died of it, but according to at least one web site, it is the second leading killer of dogs.  We are all so devastated by Sparky's death...  He was such a good friend...  I can't believe we didn't know to take him to the vet right away; we thought he just had gas and that it would pass, as it does with people.  It doesn't.  If you own a dog and don't know what bloat is, you need to learn about it RIGHT NOW.  Click on the link.

* My husband got placed on administrative leave from his job just before Thanksgiving. So far, they haven't even told him exactly why. They are "investigating." So now he is hanging around the house all day every day and I love him dearly but, being the somewhat introverted person that I am, I really crave my "personal time" that I used to have. So now I stay up until the wee hours of the morning just so I can have some quiet time in the house after everyone is asleep. And then I don't get enough sleep and I'm tired and cranky all the time. And my husband is (understandably) stressed. And so our household is a little less than fun right now.

* We had Thanksgiving dinner at our wonderful friend Sheri's house because our oven is currently not working.  We just got the stupid thing in 2003, and it's a brand that is supposed to be good, and although it wasn't the fanciest model, it wasn't the bottom of the barrel model either.  It should last longer than 9 years!  So we either need to get it repaired or replaced.  Meanwhile, we gave thanks that our friend's oven was working so that we had a wonderful home in which to cook Turkey and other Thanksgiving deliciousness and share a good meal with friends and family.

* I listened to "Alice's Restaurant" on the radio on the way to Sheri's house on Thanksgiving day and laughed for the first time since learning that my husband was on "administrative leave."  Here is a link to a video of Arlo playing the song live (the embedding feature is disabled, sorry!):

http://youtu.be/5_7C0QGkiVo

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There's more.  These are just the "highlights" (or "lowlights, in some cases).

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None of this explains why I haven't posted.  I just haven't felt up to writing anything that wasn't necessary for work.   I also got an iPad for my birthday.  It sucks up a lot of my time playing stupid games and writing email and surfing around on Facebook while I watch TV in the evenings.  Time I used to spend writing blog posts.  So blame Apple, if you miss me.  :)

Sometimes I'm just not that bright...

I picked up my car at the shop after hours on Friday, after having some minor repairs done.  They had locked the keys in it, and left them under the mat for me.  It was dark and I didn't find the keys easily, so I used my spare set to drive it home, leaving the keys under the mat, temporarily.

Got home, parked, opened the car door, gathered my things, hit the "door lock" button on the door of the car, shut the door, went inside the house...  Remembered the spare set of keys under the mat as I walked into the house, but  I was tired, so I figured I'd just get them next time I went out.

Saturday, I needed to go to the store, but I couldn't find my keys.  I looked everywhere for them, without success.  Finally, in desperation, I called AAA - I figured they could unlock the car and open it, and then I could get the spare set from under the mat, and I'd just find the regular set later when I had more time to search.

AAA arrived very quickly (fewer than 10 minutes!), and the man used his "breaking into cars" tool and opened the door in about 15 seconds flat.

(I must say, I'm not encouraged about my chances if a car thief decides he wants my car... !)

So I opened the car door and what did I find?  Both sets of keys under the mat.  I guess I must have put the regular set under the mat instead of getting the spare set out from under it when I parked Friday night.  And no, I had *not* been drinking!

I don't know what I was thinking with that one...  Sometimes, I'm just not that bright...

Worst. Illness. Ever.

Lately I've been writing some of my best stuff in the comments on other blogs. So I'm recycling this one from a comment I left on Janie Junebug's blog, in response to her question, "What is the worst illness you ever suffered?" (Or words to that effect).

Since Janie's blog is invitation only (due to some privacy violations and other stalker-ish issues she was having with some commenters), you can't all go there to answer her question (well, some of you can, if you've joined her blog). But you can answer her question here, if you like. Feel free to share your worst illness ever in the comments section below. Note to the squeamish: You might want to avoid reading the comments for today.

Here is my story:

When I was a kid, maybe 8 years old, living in Florida, I caught pneumonia during the Christmas break. I think it was after Christmas, though. My parents later told me I almost died from it.

It came on very suddenly. I was feeling absolutely fine, and I went to a sleepover at a friend's house, woke up in the middle of the night feeling awful, and my Dad had to come pick me up at something like 2:00 a.m. I think he was angry about it until he saw how awful I looked and felt. I actually watched his expression go from frustration to "holy crap I've never seen her look so bad," and then he carried me gently to the car.

I was sick for weeks and weeks and had to take penicillin. The doctor had prescribed these horse pills but I hadn't learned to swallow pills yet and sure wasn't going to learn on those giant things, so my mom had to crush them up and mix them in with a dixie cup full of soda, usually Pepsi but sometimes Sprite, and it was soooo bitter and awful tasting but I had to drink all of it, every time. She'd even pour more soda in the little dixie cup and swish it around so we wouldn't miss any. Ugh. I still don't like soda all that much.

And at least twice a day, every day, my dad had to come in and hold me over his lap with my head hanging down over the trash can by the bed and hit me on the back between the shoulder blades at just the right angle (as demonstrated by the doctor) until I coughed up a bunch of the goo that was in my lungs. He later told me it was all he could do not to puke every time... poor guy...

I was in a fog for ... ? days? weeks? ... I don't know.

I only know that finally, after missing whatever was left of Christmas vacation plus a bit of school, I started to come out of the fog and then I was lucid for longer and longer times each day and then one day I felt well enough to sit up and it was a beautiful bright sunny Florida winter day, and I begged my mom to let me go outside. I wanted to run in the sunshine. My legs were weak, though, so I settled for sitting on the edge of the driveway in a spot of warm sunshine and enjoying the cool air and gentle breeze.

It was the most beautiful day God ever made. I felt alive again.

Two, Please

Do you remember the moment your daughter became a teen instead of a child?

I remember the moment it happened to me -- when I moved irrevocably from childhood to teenager in my stepmom's eyes.

We were shopping, and I held up an awesome[see footnote 1] shirt and said, "Wow, I love this! Will you get it for me?"

Her eyes widened as she looked at the shirt, and she replied, with just the smallest hint of a sarcastic tone, "Oh, absolutely, but you'll need two of them!"

"Two? ...Why?" I asked.

"Well, so you'll have one to shit on, and one to cover it up with."



See how she did that so masterfully? She said yes, but I knew she meant no, and she even cursed! Every kid knows that parents don't curse in front of their kids, so even while she was insulting the crap out of me (or at least, my taste in clothing), she was also complimenting me by letting me know she now considered me an adult - someone she could curse in front of.

She was (still is, really) a master of contradictions and subtlety and using humor to defuse otherwise potentially tense situations.


* * * * *

Footnote 1 (because I'm a lawyer and lawyers love footnotes): Translation of the word "awesome," as applied to clothing, for those without teenage girls: "hideously ugly and horribly trashy, and even if you are laughing at this post you are secretly hoping your beloved innocent daughter or granddaughter never wants to wear anything remotely resembling it."

Dumb Stuff I've Done

Did I ever tell you about the time I got a speeding ticket, then signed up for the "diversion program" driving class to take care of the ticket, and then got into an accident on the way to the driving class?

Yeah, I did that. Really.

(Can you spell "E-M-B-A-R-R-A-S-S-I-N-G"??)

The police officer who showed up to take the accident report asked where I was going at the time of the accident. He rolled his eyes and laughed at my (truthful) answer. Ouch. Not going so well, here...

But in the end he did agree the accident wasn't really my fault, and so he did not give me another ticket. (I'm persuasive when I need to be. It's part of what makes me a good lawyer).

When I arrived at the class, one of the other students asked, loudly enough for everyone else to hear, "Wait! Didn't I see you outside? Weren't you the one who was in that accident I passed on the way in here?!?")

(Can you spell "A-S-S-H-O-L-E"??)

So I replied, "Yeah, well, I'm here to learn to drive better, but I bet you'll always be an ass."

. . . . . . .

(OK, no, I didn't really say that. I just wish I had. But the rest is true ... )

Oh, What a Relief!

LegalMist's daughter's basketball team played an excellent game that came down to the last seconds of overtime on Friday evening. I am very proud of my daughter, even though she did not get a lot of playing time. She did well for the few minutes she was in, playing excellent defense and passing the ball for an assist.

She was disappointed that she didn't get to play more but, as I explained to her, she cannot expect to get a lot of playing time in her first game of the season when she is one of just a few 7th graders on a team of 7th and 8th graders, and the shortest kid on the court to boot. If she continues to play well and improve her skills, she may end up with more playing time per game as the season progresses.

Her team as a whole played great defense, blocking shots, rebounding, intercepting passes, and stealing the ball from the other team frequently. They also handled the ball well, with dead-on passes, good dribbling, and few turnovers. And on offense, they did a great job of finding the open player and taking appropriate shots.

Their shooting skills need improvement, however. Particularly free throws. Those should be "gimme" points, with very few misses. But her team missed quite a few. The other team's field goal and free throw percentages were somewhat better, which made it a very close game all the way, despite the frequent turnovers in favor of my daughter's team.

So I was worried when, in the last 1.4 seconds of overtime, my daughter's team was ahead by one point, and one of the other team's best scorers was taking a shot. One of our players fouled her (appropriately), and the other team's excellent player went to the line for two free throws. If she made them both, they would have won, as it was hugely unlikely our team could have even taken a shot, much less made one, in the remaining 1.4 seconds. (This is not the WNBA). If she even made one free throw, they would have tied and gone on to a second overtime.

It was a very stressful situation for the scorekeeper. I should know, because I had volunteered to fill in as scorekeeper.

----
And here, I digress so that you can more fully understand the stress that your poor attorney blogger was suffering... Holy cow, what a lot of things to track throughout the game! Things I was supposed to keep up with -- for both teams -- included:

* Who played and substituted in for each quarter. (For both teams, remember? There were a couple of times when I was still trying to write down who was in for both teams, and the coaches were already substituting in new players!!).

* For each quarter, I had to track each time a player attempted a shot, and whether it was missed or, if made, whether it was 2 or 3 points -- for both teams, remember?

* For each shot made, I had to track the team's total score -- for ... oh, you remember by now...

* I was supposed to document each free throw taken by any player, and whether it was a one point, two point, or one-and-one situation, and whether the free throws were missed or made, and, of course, the team's resulting total score.

* Each foul - tracked both for individual players and for each team as a whole, with the responsibility to let the referees know if / when either team's fouls put them into the penalty status for each half and/or whether any given player fouled out.

* Each timeout, along with whether it was a 30 second time out or a full time out, which quarter it was in, and which team and player (or coach) called it.

* The score at the end of each quarter, and at the end of the game.

* Double-check that the score at the end of each quarter on the scoreboard matched the totals at the top of my page for each team.

* Double-check that the score at the end of each quarter matched the totals for all the players, as marked for that quarter.

(I'm not really sure what I was supposed to do if those totals didn't match... fortunately, the issue didn't come up).

There may have been more things I was supposed to track, but I didn't. Couldn't. No way. It was hard enough to keep my (probably ADD) self focused on the game without getting distracted for even a few seconds, thereby missing something important like who just made that shot or who that foul was called on, while also writing down those listed things in little tiny columns that started to blur together after about two quarters. (Clearly, I must keep my day job. I do not have a bright future as an official scorer for the NBA / WNBA.)

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And now, back to our regularly scheduled story:

So, the poor girl on the other team was making her "no pressure" last-second free throws with the outcome of the game hanging in the balance. We all watched, perched on the edge of our seats. She shot one, and it bounced off the rim. There would be no "win" for her team in this overtime... but she still had a chance to tie it up and score another chance to win in a second overtime.

At that point, I was literally praying that she would miss the second shot.... not so that my daughter's team would win (by then, I truly didn't care who won - it was a well-played game on both sides), but because I didn't think I could take the stress of trying to keep score accurately for yet another overtime period!

The second shot went up .... and it bounced around the rim of the basket a couple of times... but then it bounced out! - and my daughter's team won the game!

I felt bad for the girl who missed the shots . . . but oh-so-relieved that the game was not going to a second overtime!

I felt happy for my daughter and her team for their impressive and close win over an excellent opposing team . . . but mostly, I felt relieved that the game was not going to a second overtime!

Am I self-centered and inappropriately focused on my own well-being instead of my daughter's team's big win? Apparently so... But, oh, how happy I felt!!

.

Depression

I've been rather depressed lately. Well, I was reasonably happy, if a bit busy, for a couple of weeks right around Christmas, but I've spent the better part of the past month feeling very down. Maybe you can tell from the content of my posts. Hating everyone (lawyers, motorcycle cops), ranting about trivial annoyances (parking lot jerks, annoying attorneys), and basically ignoring my blog in between.

It's easy to say, hey just suck it up, get over it, adjust your attitude, be happy.... But as Kim Ayres over at Ramblings of the Bearded One pointed out in a couple of recent blog posts (here and here) it's not that easy.

Part of the problem, for me anyway, is that when you are depressed, you literally can't do anything. Some days, it's nearly impossible even to get out of bed in the morning. So, many of the "self-help" things that you could theoretically do to help yourself feel better - things that might help people who are feeling sad, but not truly depressed - simply can't happen. People will say, "take this supplement," or "get some exercise" or "eat better foods," or "go to the doctor," or "get a prescription for Prozac" and it will help you feel happier. They might be right, I really don't know. I know only that the effort required to get to the store and buy the recommended supplement, or to go out and exercise, or to buy and prepare the recommended foods, or to make and keep a doctor appointment, is beyond what I can imagine accomplishing most days.

I have, so far, managed to hold it together enough to get my kids to school on time (and with lunches made), supervise their homework, take them to their activities, and even to plan and do fun things with them. I've managed to meet my work deadlines (mostly - except for those papers I still have to grade, which were due this week but will not be done until Monday). I've managed to keep the kitchen clean so we can all eat without contracting some dread disease from spoiled food. I've managed to keep up with the laundry enough that the kids and I can get dressed each morning, if we're so inclined (some days, I'm not).

But it's as if those things take every ounce of energy, and then when the kids and husband are gone and the deadlines have been met, there is no energy for anything else. I find myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling, sometimes crying.

My house is a wreck and I'm just not motivated to do anything about it. And I haven't managed to put together the client billing, or do the filing, or install the new printer I got, or any number of other tasks that require energy but don't have a "do it now or else" type of deadline.

And so I lie in bed and feel sorry for myself. And then I berate myself for being lazy. And then I drag myself to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, hoping that will give me some energy. And it doesn't and then I hate myself even more and I feel exhausted and I go back to bed.

And I get really scared. I don't want to be one of those people who truly slips into a huge depression and truly can't get out of bed for days at a time, who completely abdicates her responsibility to her family, work, and friends.

I don't mean to be a whiner. I don't even know what I hope to accomplish by posting this. But when I read Kim's post, it struck a chord. He talked about how people just don't understand. They offer sympathy and suggestions in a misguided attempt to help you "adjust your attitude" and "feel better," but it just doesn't work because it's not about your attitude or your desire to be happy; it's a physical inability to "feel better."

I haven't wanted to admit to anyone how depressed I am. It seems like a moral failing, or like mere laziness (thus, the self-hate, and being annoyed with myself...), but it's not that at all.

I am lazy sometimes. I know when I am lazy: I wilfully choose not to do something that needs to be done because I just plain don't want to. And then later I work frantically hard and get everything done anyway, cursing myself all along for being too lazy to get it done ahead of time. Most of the time I am not lazy. I do, and accomplish, a lot of things in my life.

But this is different. It is a physical and mental inability to do anything. I will lie in bed and truly want to get up and do some research that needs to be done, or sweep and mop the house, or call my grandmother, or write a blog post, or shop for new shoes, or any of a thousand other things that both need to be done and sound like something I would, normally, want to do. I will lie there and think about how wonderful it would be if I could just get out of bed and do these things I want to do. But somehow I just can't. It's not, "I should but I don't want to." It's "I want to, but I just can't drag myself out of this swamp of inertia and fog of sadness; I have to cry some more, first."

I hate this. I want it to stop.

I'm finally feeling a little better this week. Maybe now I'll at least have enough energy to try some of those helpful remedies people are always suggesting. And now that the fog and swamp have receded enough that I can move more freely, maybe, just maybe, some of those ideas will actually help me feel better.

Thanks for listening.

If you know anyone who seems depressed, please do try to have more understanding (not "pity," not "sympathy," just understanding) for them. It's not a conscious choice to be withdrawn and unresponsive or irresponsible. If they could "snap out of it," they would. No one wants to feel, or be, this way.

I'm not sure what you should do with this new understanding. It doesn't lead to any advice for how to help the person. But it might at least help some people be more willing to admit they have a depression problem if there were more understanding and less judging going on in the world.

The Existentialist

"Poppin' Knee" (see here, here, and here for the story of Poppin' Knee, if you haven't read it yet) was enough to make anyone want to leave the firm, but I stuck it out for nearly three years. It was a typical large law firm, with ridiculous billable hours requirements that meant I worked evenings most days and weekends quite often. I was there 50 to 60 hours in a "regular" week, more if we were busy.

I was in the bankruptcy litigation section. We represented trustees, debtors, and creditors in various cases. We did both Chapter 7 liquidations and Chapter 11 business reorganizations.

Being a young associate meant I mostly worked on various motions, responses to emergency motions filed by the other side (because no one else wanted to stay there all night to write them), and fee applications (the debtor's attorneys in reorganization cases must have their requests to get paid from the bankruptcy estate approved by the court), with occasional research projects or assignments to draft a single issue in an appellate brief thrown in for "fun."

I attended trials and depositions with other attorneys to "learn the ropes," and even got to ask a few questions at depositions and examine a couple of witnesses at trials (not the important ones, of course... the supervising attorneys did all of those).

I also handled, on my own, quite a few pro bono civil cases, and one pro bono criminal appeal to the federal Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. ("Pro bono" is short for "pro bono publico," a latin phrase (lawyers are fond of latin phrases) meaning "for the good of the public," and are cases that the attorneys handle at no charge to the usually indigent client, usually to attempt to help clients with good "causes" or to fight injustice. The State Bar of Arizona asks that each attorney do at least 50 hours of "pro bono" work each year.)

I learned a lot about bankruptcy, about litigation, and about a few civil areas in which the firm liked to take pro bono cases such as guardianships, landlord-tenant disputes, and consumer fraud.

One of my favorite bankruptcy cases involved a client we'll call "C." It is one of my favorites in part because the client was so nice, and in part because of the following story. [FOOTNOTE 1]

The client, C, was a real estate guy. He bought, managed, and sold land and buildings - trailer parks, condominiums, business properties, etc. Some folks who had purchased condominiums in a project he had owned (I can't remember if he built them, or just bought them and then sold them) had sued for construction defects in the condos and had won a very large judgment against C in state court, which C couldn't pay outright. So C filed a Chapter 11 bankruptcy reorganization case (in federal bankruptcy court) to try to figure out how to structure the debt, discharge it, and/or liquidate other assets to pay it.

One of the ways we sought to recover funds to pay the debt was by suing his former attorney ("FA"). You might ask, "Why?"

Well, here is what transpired in the "adversary proceeding" (trial against FA held in bankruptcy court).

The testimony established that C was an older fellow with lots of street smarts, but he was not an educated man. He relied on FA's advice in handling the state court case against him by the condominium purchasers.

Early in the state court trial, the court overruled many of FA's objections to the plaintiffs' evidence. (The objections were ridiculous and had been properly overruled). The state court also refused to allow FA to make arguments out of order. FA therefore believed the court was biased against him. FA therefore advised C to literally walk out of the trial, in the middle of the trial, and not come back. C followed that advice.

I am guessing that even those of you who are not attorneys know that this was a bad idea. Walking out does not stop a trial. Oh, no, to the contrary, it goes on without you. And by walking out, C forfeited the opportunity to present evidence, to cross-examine the plaintiffs' witnesses, to make oral arguments, or otherwise to present any sort of defense to the plaintiffs' claims. It also meant that the court would essentially enter a default judgment based only on the evidence presented by the plaintiffs. So of course the damages were huge - a much larger sum than would have been obtained if C had been properly represented at trial.

So, we helped C sue FA for attorney malpractice in the bankrupcty court adversary proceeding.

There is a saying in the law: "The attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client." FA had a fool for a client in this particular adversary proceeding.

By doing a completely incompetent job of representing himself, FA demonstrated to the bankruptcy court exactly why our malpractice action against him should succeed.

First, he was visibly nervous and unprepared. He seemed to have no clue about the proper court procedures.

Then, he called his only witness, a former summer law clerk at his firm, to testify for him. After a few preliminary questions, he asked her whether she thought he had done the right thing by advising C to walk out of the trial that summer.

She said "no" - leaving us to wonder why the heck he had called her to testify. (Did he think she would say yes? Did he fail to even ask her before the trial what she would say? Clearly incompetent....).

He bumbled around, presenting no effective evidence to show why he shouldn't be found liable for malpractice, and in fact presenting quite a bit of evidence that tended to support our malpractice claim.

But here is my favorite part:

Later, when it was our turn to present evidence, we moved to enter the transcripts from the state court trial to assist in proving the amount of damages C had suffered due to FA's malpractice.

The idea was to show the evidence that had been presented, the damage claim calculations that had been presented, and the amount of damages that had been awarded in the state court trial. Then, we would bring in our own experts in bankruptcy court to show the evidence FA should have presented (if he hadn't walked out of trial) to demonstrate that the construction had been fine, not defective, as well as a more accurate method of calculating damages in the event the court found there were construction defects. This would show that the damage amount would have been either zero, or at least much much lower, if FA had done a competent job. Then, we would get a judgment against FA for the difference between the actual judgment amount and the amount the judgment would have been if FA had done a competent job.

FA objected to the bankruptcy court looking at any of the state court transcripts after the time when he had advised C to walk out of the state court trial.

The Court was a little bewildered and asked why FA thought the transcripts were inadmissible.

FA responded, "Well, your honor, I wasn't there. I don't know that the transcripts show what really happened."

The Court said, "I am thinking these are public records and are relevant to the damage claim. Is there some reason you think they are not, or some reason you think the transcripts are not accurate?"

FA responded, "No, your honor. It's just that, I wasn't there. How can I know that really happened?"

* * * wtf? * * *

The judge's expression clearly said "wtf," too, as he overruled the objection.

We laughed for years about FA's "existential objection" and how that really ought to be added to the rules of evidence. ("If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? But what if the court reporter recorded the event and the sound?") We would joke about using the "existential objection" any time anyone presented unfavorable evidence: "Oh, but that's not admissible. We weren't there! How can we know that really happened?"

Needless to say, we won our malpractice action against FA.

Sadly, we had to get in line along with FA's other creditors and malpractice claimants when he, too, filed bankruptcy....


-------------

FOOTNOTE 1:
I have to tell the story with relatively few details because of attorney-client confidentiality issues. I believe it is ok to tell the story based on non-confidential items that I did not learn from the client, but learned by watching the trial and/or reading public records, so that is what I will do. I've also omitted details and/or changed minor details so that the client's identity is not readily apparent. I'll also add the disclaimer that I don't have a copy of the transcripts, so the quoted material is based on my memory of what transpired and may not be word-for-word accurate. However, the gist of it is completely true.

Happy News

Sorry to be gone so long, y'all. Things have been a little busy. We've been hiking, canoeing, and suffering from food poisoning at a fast food restaurant. We had kids starting at two different schools (one of which notified us two days before orientation that LegalMist's daughter was "in," and needed a uniform by Thursday, thereby necessitating an emergency shopping trip), with all the orientations and meet-the-teacher nights that entails.

And - the huge news - I got hired as an adjunct professor at a Law School here in Arizona! It's a part-time gig, teaching one course only, but should be a lot of fun (as well as a lot of work). And so I've been busy learning all about the school's policies and procedures for everything from tracking student attendance and grading to where to park when I show up to teach and how to use the school's computer and email system.

I'll be back with some fun stories soon.

I'll also be back around commenting and enjoying your blogs really soon, too.

So stick around, the best is yet to come!