It's official.  My Chili Con Carne is cursed.  Delicious, but cursed.  Here's hoping that it doesn't take another 21 years for Da Bears to make it back to the big game so I can redeem myself.

I got to meet the latest addition to some friends' family: Border Collie-German Shepherd mix Izzy the dog.  (And no, she's not named after the character on Grey's).  She's a sweet lil' pup that they rescued from a shelter.  What a doll.

I'm very envious of the several Xangans who seem to have their taxes all wrapped up already.  I'm still waiting for my father to find and purchase the best deal on this year's edition of Turbo Tax.  Ever one to keep the faith, I'm considering looking into other options (perhaps even paper).

And now for another installation of...

The Week In Preview

Aside from continuing to mourn the loss of Super Bowl XLI, I got nothing.  Studying, dance, Pilates.  Big whoop.  Next week should definitely be more interesting.  I swear.

Hey legalicious1 and nolimitbaby --

Remember that chili con carne I made for the Super Bowl back as 1Ls?  Well, I'm making it again this year.  It's simmering as I type.  Do you also remember how our little friend's boyfriend had a cheese string dangling from his face?  That was classic.  And I didn't want to tell him it was there.  That was a little cruel.

It also occurred to me that the Raiders played in that particular Super Bowl for which I made the chili.  I was rooting for them and they lost.  I really hope that this chili recipe isn't jinxed.  Because I really want Da Bears! to win.

Well, that's all I wanted to say.

Happy Super Bowl XLI tomorrow!

Oh, Gavin. 

Gavin, Gavin, Gavin.

Your buddy (and former deputy chief of staff and campaign manager).  HIS wife (your former appointment secretary who 'fessed up to the affair as a part of her rehab).  And you.  He who could hath made it with any woman in the city--nay, within a 100-mile radius (maybe more).

People say it ALL the time, but just in case you didn't get the memo: don't dip your pen in company ink.  And futhermore, don't screw your buddy by screwing his wife.  Bro's before Ho's, dude!

Why couldn't youhave just kept on screwing YOUR wife?

I know, I know.  Bi-coastal budding careers.  Still, you had to go and take up with your buddy's wife to console the loss of your marriage??  Here's a thought: what about their marriage?

Now I understand you have apologized for your "lapse in judgment," and well, we know her excuse (booze, maybe pills?)  But what's yours, Gavin?  If I may be so bold as to say there is no justification.

Because really, I meant it when I said any woman in the city (maybe even the state), such as those whom you've more recently been linked with (according to The Washington Post), say...student Brittanie Mountz,20, and actress Jennifer Siebel, 32, for instance.  Then again, Brittanie Mountz (golly, what an unfortunate name, poor girl) may have been barely legal back when you needed consolation.  But legal nonetheless and probably not married.  To your buddy.

I'm not sayin' that just because you're the mayor of San Francisco you're not allowed to sow your wild Hall & Oates.  Just make sure it's not with your buddy's wife.  Or his daughter (man, I sure do hope he's not tight with Papa Mountz).

My Over the River and Through the Woods Diet (The Plan) is going alright so far.  For the weekend I loosened the slack a little, though.  Afterall, that's what weekends are for, right?!

Back in November I borrowed some workout DVDs from a friend, hoping to rip them to my computer (or find someone to dup them for me).  I've done neither.  But I still have the original DVDs and I've decided that this week I'll begin incorporating them into The Plan.  Short and apparently easy, yet effective, and as seen on TV: Slim in 6.

I admit that I am very curious and a bit skeptical.  But my friend really likes them and I figure it's better than nothing.

On Friday, I received an envelop from the Department of Labor.  I tossed it aside assuming it was paperwork regarding the next step in prosecuting my claim.  Imagine my surpise when I found last night that it is not mundane red tape as suspected, but rather notice of settlement...and two checks!  Hooray! I can pay to live another day!  I'm pretty sure my parents, especially my mom, were quite relieved to live another day without paying more child support.

Yet.

Regardless, later today I will be gleefully visiting the bank with those checks. 

Hells to the yeah.

BTW, this also means that the ban instituted last month may now be lifted.  If you must shop there.

Ever since I've been out of work, I've had a lot more time to catch up on my sleep.  Instead of 5-6 hours of sleep, my nights have been have become blissful 8+ hours filled with slumber.  It feels ridiculous to sleep that much, but it's a good ridiculous.

One quirky side effect of all this sleep has been my dreams.  I have dreamed more often and much more vividly than I have in years.

Among the most memorable of these dreams, last night (Monday) in my sleep I was consorting with Jeremy Piven.  Admittedly, it was more like a scene in some action-thriller movie than it was reality, afterall he was taller in this dream of mine than in real life.  But hey, a girl can dream.  Anyway, it's not entirely clear but in this dream, we were either undercover (literally and figuratively) agents or in witness protection, either way we were also consorting with the Feds somehow.

It was exciting, it was sexy, but alas, it was just a dream.

***Edit***
It just occurred to me that there's more to this Jeremy Piven story (the reality part of it).  There was a period when I was in college that just about every movie I watched seemed to have at least a cameo by Jeremy Piven.  And that's what I started calling him: The Guy in Every Movie Ever Made.  And then I discovered he was in the cast of Ellen.  I very unsuccessfuly tried to watch after that.  Now he just makes appearances in my dreams.

What's more, I read yesterday that he attended the high school that I would have gone to in Illinois, had my family not moved to California.  Granted, he's 11 years older than me, but that's neither here nor there.  In fact, this whole anecdote is neither here, nor there.

The Thrill Is Gone...

But the dreams sure ain't.  Sadly, my dream featuring Jeremy Piven did not continue last night.  However, I had another quasi-bizzare dream. 

Martha Stewart makes an appearance at Burger King.  Actually, it was the Burger King in Evanston that we went to when I was a kid.

My brother called me down there to try some new buffalo chicken sandwich and was waving a fried chicken patty at me when I got there.  And that's when I saw her.  Martha was working behind the counter, taking guest orders, visiting with them a bit, and (I guess) promoting a new signature menu at BK.

No one knew how or where to properly form the line to make their order and somehow I ended up in the front and next to meet Martha.  And we just started talking and it was great.  She asked what brought me there and I told her about my brother and that I rarely ever came to BK, but that I was only able to because I was studying.  (Of course she didn't really inquire about what I was studying because the BK we used to frequent was a stone's throw from Northwestern University, but of course I slipped it in that it was for the CA Bar Exam).

"My, how impressive," she said.

"Oh well, it's nothing," I replied.

"Well, is there anything in particular that you would like to ask me?"

"Actually there is, Martha.  I want to work for you.  How can I get a job with you?" I inquired.

"Well you can go on our website--" she began.

"I've really had no luck with that," I admitted.

"Well when you pass your bar, call me and I'll see what I can do."

Damn you taunting dreams.  Damn you!!!

The only exciting thing on my calendar this week already happened.  This morning.

I had the first informal conference at the Department of Labor to discuss the merits of my claim and perhaps settle.  But a settlement requires that the defendant appear at such conferences.  My former employer was glaringly absent.  Not a huge deal to me, I amended my claim a little and the Deputy Labor Commissioner handling my case said the claim would be for my wages plus 30 days of penalties (max allowable).  But the next step is to have a hearing, although Deputy thinks that they'll cut a check to settle instead.  She's addressing the claim to the CEO this time around, to make sure that it is recieved.

Otherwise it's another normal, uber boring week of more studying for me.

We started the Superbowl Shuffle in my house yesterday!  My dad was afraid that it might be a Superbowl XX rematch between Da Bears and the Patriots, in which case he didn't want NE afforded an opportunity to redeem their franchise from the 46-10 wallop back in '86.  But instead we've got a bonafide midwestern rumble down there in Miami.  So if any of my faithful readers are in my area Superbowl Sunday, please join us!

We're not here to cause no trouble
We're just here to do the Superbowl Shuffle

I glimpsed outside for a moment, only to notice that the light rain we got overnight left a dusting of snow on the mountian just across the valley from our house.  So I went out to get pictures (sorry, not digital but I will post the photos when developed).

Because I only have a few frames left in the roll of film in my camera, I started looking around the yard for more subjects to shoot.  I thought about capturing the leaves at the bottom of the spa sector of our pool when I noticed it.  Our pool is covered with a layer (albeit velum-paper thin) of ice.  Never in my 20 years of living here has our pool frozen over in the least bit.  I tried to capture it in pictures, we'll see if it's visible.

Baby, it is cold out!

We've been going through a cold snap here in the Bay Area again.  The last one was right around Chrtistmas, which people responded to favorably, citing that it put them into more of a festive, wintry mood.  This time around it's colder, exposed pipes are busting, and there's no looking forward to a visit from The Man With The Bag.  Needless to say, people seem to want spring to...well, spring already. 

To those people I say: Hooey!  It's still winter, it should be cold, and I like it.  Actually, it's not so much the cold I like, but it's the noticable distinction between the seasons that I like experiencing.  This cold snap actually makes me miss living in the midwest, mostly because I know that this is unusual for where I live (with the exception being at higher elevations) and I know that Jack Frost visits us about every 10-ish years (according to local news reports, the last bad freeze was in 1998).  As such, I don't regularly get to have that quintessential cold winter experience.  And as we all know, it's my experience of seasonal variation that matters above all else.

Even though I'm a day late, we didn't miss much yesterday.  It was MLK Day so Fella had the day off.  We got coffee, looked at some furniture (he's leather sofa shopping), I made some flash cards, and watched 24.  Not terribly exciting.

In fact, my week is really not terribly exciting.  Perhaps I ought to rethink this new segment.  Bygones.

I've got studying to do.  Period.  Otherwise, we've got a potluck dinner at friends' on Friday.  So pretty much the most exciting thing that I'll have to do the entire week is figure out what I'll make to bring to dinner Friday.

Following up on last week's preview, Fella and I did not make it to the gallery to see the hot rod exhibit.  But it's open for just under another month yet.  However we did get to go skating before the rink closed for the season yesterday.  This year the skates we got were lace-up (not clip on like some roller blades) and much better for me to work with.  However, the ice was in pretty bad shape.  We figure that was because it was the end of the season.  But it was not so crowded, so that made it tolerable.

Our day up in wine country was...fine.  I'm not terribly familiar with the people we went up with, except for Fella's best friend and his college roommate, whom we dragged with us.  Best Friend's wife and I have nothing in common, nor could I relate to her 22 y/o little brother who (has an immunity to sarcasm) and his high maintenance girlfriend.  I was glad that we dragged College Roomie with us, he thinks I'm funny (or at least he thinks my potty mouth is funny).