Ten miles.  That's the measly distance I have to travel to my latest assignment.  Yet I find that I have to leave my house 30 minutes prior to my start time to drive 10 miles on the freeway to arrive on time.  Does that seem unreasonable to anyone else?

People were driving as though acid were falling from the sky.  Now, I know we don't get much rain in May, but winter weather is not such a distant memory that one need lose all sense of how to operate a motor vehicle during such a rare occasion we do.  But then, I'm trying to apply logic to goings on here on the left coast.  And goodness knows that logic is one characteristic most people tend to misplace once living in this great state.

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Um, I thought I had more to chat about...but apparently I was wrong.

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*****Edit*****
I was wrong.  It wasn't just the rain that retarded the ability of most drivers yesterday.  It was sunny and dry as a bone on my drive home, yet the reverse commute went absolutely at a snail's pace.

After a mid-week respite in SLO County, I am back to the real world today. 

I'm back on the clockwatching tip as of this morning.  Luckily I'm filling in for the receptionist at what appears to be a really nice firm that is fairly close to home.  It's actually a national labor/employment law firm, but this office only has about 10 attorneys and a few support staff.  And they are all really nice.  Hopefully it's not a front just to get me back in there tomorrow.

Our trip to the central coast was fabu!  The weather was terrific, so we walked on the beach (which was just a stairway away from our back door) every day we were there.  We also did a lot of wine tasting in both SLO and Paso Robles.  Thursday evening we made it to Farmer's Market and had some BBQ.  Friday we also made it up to Hearst Castle.  That place is a piece of work.  

The trip was relaxing, yet eventful and Fella and I had a maahhhhvelous time with our friend.  I want to go back on a permanent vacation.

Someone (was it girllawyer?) was recently waxing nostalgic about a high school boyfriend or some such thing.  I, too, have been reminiscing about someone from my past: MisterRight. 

For weeks I have not been able to shake his trail on my memory.  I used to "date" MR in college.  Although we never actually went out on a date.  Ever.  And we never did much more than some heavy petting.  Ever.  But our paths always seemed to lead back to each other.  Admittedly, many of those times found us stumbling intoxicated on the path back, but there were the few other times that made me believe that he was my destiny.  Even my freshman year roommate (who was only at my college on an exchange from UMASS for a semester) years later told me that she thought for sure I'd end up marrying him.

When I used to think about MR after I dropped out of college and moved home, I would email him.  This usually led to a few exchanges.  One December, he even came close to making the drive up to see me at home (he was home on break, which was about 50 miles away).  But those plans fell through.

MR made his way to grad school in North Carolina and I eventually to law school in Kansas.  Oddly enough, I made a very good friend in law school who happened to be from and ultimately got married in NC after our second year.  So just before the wedding I emailed MR in case he happened to still be in the area.  Fate took (yet again) another turn--he had just weeks earlier graduated from his doctoral program and moved back to the Bay Area.

And that was the last I've heard from MR.  I'm fairly certain he's still in the area, but I've resisted the urge to get in touch with him.  Mostly because I feel like in a way I'd be leading us both on (I could be tempted--for old times' sake, and he wouldn't be any the wiser).  I suppose there is always the possibility of friendship.  But I'm pretty sure he once told me that he "doesn't need anymore friends," I think right after he told me that I "wasn't girlfriend material."  Of course that was back when all of MR's college friends were still from high school (which changed sometime during our sophomore year). 

But perhaps this is the best time to become friends, simply because that's all we can be.

I cannot lie.  I still wonder what would have happened if we had ever gone out on an actual date.  Or if I had been girlfriend material back in freshman year.  Or if I had sent him one last email when I moved back from law school.  Only now I know that we were never destined to actually go on a date back then.  Even though it took me years to realize, MR is not my destiny.

But I'm adding him to my One Last Chance List.*

*If you had one last chance to be single, the list of those whom you would want to date, or rather "date."  Similarly related to the list of celebrities one would be able to "date" as featured on an episode of Friends.

In case you didn't notice yesterday.

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I'm over my cold, but it was quite a hanger-on.

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Tomorrow, Fella and I are heading down to the Central Coast with one of my BFFs.  She's on vacation this week and was lucky enough to get to use one of her company's vacation houses on the beach in Cayucos. 

The house looks amazing from the pictures.

It even has its own private staircase down to the beach.

 

Enough said.  We are very lucky that she invited us along with her!  

Our trip also takes us near a city that is very dear to me: the city of my un-alma mater.  It's funny because when I was in school there, I couldn't wait to be anywhere else but there.  Primarily, I wanted to be closer to the big city action in San Francisco.  In an odd twist of fate, I am overwhelmingly drawn back there now and would move  tomorrow if I had the opportunity.  Maybe someday I'll have a second home there.

This will be my third trip since the end of February.  Of course there was Chicago, which you heard about.  But I also got to escape a week and a half ago to the beautiful norther coast of California for a bachelorette party in Mendocino.  We were again very lucky to be staying in a gorgeous house right on the water (sorry no pics) and we woke up every morning look out over the ocean crashing against the rocks 15-20 feet below.  It was amazing.  Except for when I realized that I was getting sick.  That was not so amazing.  I'm just glad that it appears as though I didn't pass it along to any of my fellow revelers.

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In other news, I was summonsed for jury duty yesterday.  I don't have to report for another month, but it seems like I get a summons at every possible interval.  You may remember that I had federal jury duty about 15 months ago.  Now the county wants my service.  What joy.  Hopefully I won't even have to make an appearance at the courthouse.  Otherwise I'll hope that I somehow know counsel and they will dismiss me.  But with my luck, I'll probably be selected for a lengthy trial.

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I'm in dire need of getting my eyebrows waxed.  It's been at least two weeks since I've put tweezer to brow, so I'm looking pretty browsy.  Except that it's not exactly something that I should be spending what little money I have left on such a luxury.  But I'm telling youse, it ain't pretty.

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In a bit of better news, I have a 3-week gig starting Monday.  More of my reception guru goodness to spread around the legal community.  But it's for a good firm and maybe, just maybe I can use my jedi mind tricks to make them realize that they want to keep me around in some other capacity for the long haul.

I've realized in the last few days that in the very likely event that I will have to take the bar exam another time, it's not going to be right away in July.  I explained to a friend of mine that I can keep taking the exam as long as I can pay for it.  And that's when it hit me: there's no way that I can pay for the July exam.  I'm pretty sure that's a sign.

I've been battling a cold this week.  Just as I think it's getting better...BLAM!  Not so much.  Since Sunday, I'm averaging 9 hours of sleep per night which clearly is not seeming to help.  But I made it through dance class tonight.  Maybe it helped to sweat it out a little.  No wait, you sweat when your fever breaks.  Bygones.

I've misplaced my label maker!

Oh hells yeah I'm Clockwatcher.

A reception guru, if you will.  Just for a few days, though.

Which is fine.  I need the moolah.  

It's not quite enough to cover my student loans for a month, but almost.

I got off to a rocky start with my first few phonecalls.  But I got it now.

Except there are no calls coming in.  OH!  Just had two.

Thrilling, I know.

The universe conspires against them.

After weeks (maybe months) of toiling over whether or not to keep stringing along my current arrangement with my Gym (it's soooo cheap...I haven't visited Gym since sometime in early January...but it's soooo cheap...except that Gym is G.U.* so we never see each other...but...well, you get it).  I finally made the call--I'm out.

So I added an item to my To Do List: Find membership paperwork. 

Last night I started looking.  And looking.  Shockingly, I am still looking today.

If you've ever lived with me or spent any appreciable time in any of my living spaces, you've probably noticed that I am a bit of a packrat.  I keep papers and statements and greeting cards (among other craptastic trinkets) from a number of my previous lives.  You may have also noticed that I don't exactly have the most efficient storage system for my archives.

I utilize what I call The Pile System to organize my papers.  I inherited this trait from my daddy dearest.  He is notorious for the piles of papers he has "organized" around the house.  It's not the most efficient of systems, but it hasn't seemed to fail me thus far.  Unless you count the numerous times that I looked for this one book of drink coupons from an airline and couldn't find them.  That is, until last night of course!  Although now they've expired.  Bygones.

But imagine my disbelief when I came to the realization that the system has at last failed me and my quest to end my affair with Gym.  Is this a cosmic sign?  Should I suck it up and keep paying the affordable membership fee for a meaningless relationship with Gym?

"Why don't I just walk right in and break up with Gym face-to-face?" you ask.  Well, because I am just no good at break ups.  If I can get away with a Dear Gym Letter, dagnabbit I will.  Besides, I don't want to walk in there to be told that I agreed to break up with Gym only in the manner outlined in my paperwork.  That I can't find.  I'm a lawyer for Eff's sake.  There's always a procedure to follow.

So I want to save a little face, so what?  Gym doesn't need to know that in addition to my fitness regime, my document management system is in ruins as well.  So for now I will keep sifting** through my organized piles in hopes that The System will redeem itself.  But I'm not holding my breath.  Well actually, I am.  Those piles are friggin' dusty!

*Geographically Undesirable

**In an effort to increase efficiency, management has also implemented a sorting element to immediately reduce pile sizes and with the intent to ultimately engage in an organization style conversion project in the near future.

I'm still boring as hell!

BUT IN AN ASTONISHING TURN OF EVENTS...
My car is--drumroll please--back in the shop.  Hooray!!!  Luckily, it broke down on the street outside the house.  This also meant that it has been stuck there.  On the street outside the house.  Which is definitely not the place for it to be if it's going to get fixed.

THE CATCH 22
Becuase I last had the Piece of Shit (POS) towed into my mechanic a mere seven weeks ago, I was resistant to use up the second of four tows included in my annual AAA coverage.  So what's a girl to do with her POS?  My mom offered to sacrifice one of her four annual tows.  But my dad had another idea.  In the immortal words of Salt-N-Pepa, we could simply push it.  Push it good.  Ahhh push it.  P-p-ush it real good.

"You and what army?!" I asked, thinking about the garage a mile and a half away.

"No, with my car," he explains.

Ohhhhhh.  That sounded like a much better idea than pushing by sheer man-power alone.

"You'll have to steer and brake without any power, though.  It'll be a good workout for your core.  We'll a test out your Pilates!"

"Uhhh...," I stall, looking down the hill on which we live atop, "I would feel better if you or Fella would take my car."

So Dad manned POS, which put me in his car, taking up the rear.  He soared down the hill, but half-way down, two neighbors were visiting.  One from her car.  Stopped in the middle of the road.  And my dad has no power steering.  No power brakes.  Coasting downhill.

The neighbor waved a trite apology (or was she just waving him by?) and down the rest of the hill he went.  Luckily the intersection at the bottom of the hill was empty and he didn't even stop.  I had to give him a little nudge in the middle of the block, but there was a downward slope to most of the roads for the first half of our trip and Dad was able to keep coasting through one four-way-stop after another.

But then the terrain flattened out and he lost momentum.  Showtime.  I line up the cars and lightly press my foot on the accelerator and release.  No contact with POS.  Press again.  Still nothing.  I press again...and unleash a real life game of bumper cars!

Dad made some hand gestures that neither Fella nor I could interpret, but we figured as long as it wasn't The Bird or the international sign for whiplash we were okay.  So I kept on bumping.  And grinding.  All the way to the service center.

Luckily, most of the grinding damage (which Fella claims will rub right out) was on POS, not my dad's car.  And now we wait for the diagnosis and the damage my dwindling bank account can expect.

I think I'll start planning the going away party for POS.  All tow drivers and mechanics are on the guest list.  That's probably going to be a bigger party than anyone would imagine.

Basically, I'm boring.  That's why.

I puppysat for some dear friends over the weekend.  Fella (a little reluctantly) came over and kept me company Saturday night.  We made dinner and took Puppy for a walk and it was all very homey.  And I could get used to it!!  What's more, Fella conceded that he could be amenable to having a dog.  As long as the dog is smart, of course!

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I got a short little assignement yesterday afternoon.  Organizing some files for a solo insurance defense attorney.  No big whoop, but at least it's inflow of a little cash.  And I stress little.

I've got a meeting with a financial services company this afternoon.  I'm fairly certain that it's not going to be an opportunity that I'll pursue, but...we'll see.  It would involve an 18-month training program and then...?  I guess that's what I'll hear about this afternoon.

I also got an employment inquiry from a state agency.  I took an exam for this particular position just before we left for Chicago.  Fella (who currently works for another government agency) commented that it'll be another 6 months before I hear from them about an interview.  But it was a pretty quick turnaround from the date I took the exam, so it could be quicker than he might dread.  And the position would be in Oakland (rather than Sacramento) which pleased Fella greatly.  But, we'll see.

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Fella and I have taken up tennis again.  He and I have both played in our younger (and more agile) years, so we're not all that bad at it.  The first Saturday we went at it (two weeks ago) we played for about 45 minutes.  Neither of us had eaten anything before we went out there, so our bodies wore out pretty quickly.  But this past Saturday, we were out there for twice as long!  (For those who don't want to do the math, we played for an hour and a half!) 

The unfortunate thing, or rather things, are that (1) I tweaked one of my knees, and (2) my racquet broke. 

I know that if I keep up being active, the knee thing will get better.  Along with all of my other joint aches and pains.  (Both times, I felt like an old golden retriever with hip displascia).  Bottom line: Zesty needs to lose the El Bees.  Maje.  And that realization has got me another step closer to cancelling my gurrent gym membership that I haven't used in...well...a long time) and looking for a gym that's more convenient (such as the one that is literally right down the street from my house).

The racquet thing I should have seen coming.  It was an old racquet.  And oldie, but a goodie.  At least goodie until the debilitating stress fracture.  Come to think of it, I guess my racquet felt like an old golden retriever with hip displascia, too.  Luckily, my mom has an even older racquet that I will use in the interim until I can afford a new one (or until it too, cracks under pressure, whichever comes first).

Well, I'm off to fill out my standard application for state employment!

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******Edit******

I am really not feeling like getting dressed up for this meeting later this afternoon.  Probably because it seems like a dead-end anyway.  It's tempting to cancel...but...