Evie's Wedding

Evie and I go way back to our first year of law school. We were both small-town midwestern girls who'd gone to college at big Missouri state schools. From the start we looked eerily similar, to the point that some people couldn't tell us apart. We were both sorority girls and both volleyball players. We wore the same size clothes and both had an affinity for tequila. We were in the same small section of our law school class, so we spent a lot of time together, both in and out of school. And as all of our friends (and probably a lot of people who didn't even know us) would come to learn, we both rightfully earned the title of "drama queen" more than once in our three years at WashU. Through all the drama (and trust me, there was a lot of it!) we managed to stay great friends and now, three years after graduation, we still keep in touch on a weekly basis. Needless to say, there was no way in hell I was going to miss making the trek to the middle of Illinois to see Evie marry the most perfect guy for her that I ever could have imagined.

Evie and Sean actually met decades ago. They were from the same small town growing up, and Evie was good friends with Sean's younger sister throughout high school. Sean and Evie were friendly, but never dated, and after they both moved away to college they lost touch for many years. Thanks to the wonder of MySpace, they reconnected in early 2006 and knew instantly that they'd never lose touch again. At the time, Sean was living in Florida and Evie was in St. Louis. When she moved to Chicago, Sean quit his job and moved up there with her. And when Evie moved back to southern Illinois, Sean followed again. Although I think they knew from about the first month on that they would get married, Sean waited until May 2007 to propose. Last Saturday, May 17, 2008, after all those years, they finally said "I do."

In the weeks leading up to their wedding, poor Evie had to deal with one bridal nightmare after another. First it was a final dress fitting that went less than wonderfully. Then it was Sean's sister (a bridesmaid) and brother-in-law (a groomsmen) being unable to make it to the wedding when Sean's sister went into labor two months early. And then the onslaught of rain that St. Louis had gotten in the past couple of weeks made the park-like setting where the ceremony was supposed to take place far too mushy for chairs, and the entire event had to be moved to the parking lot.

But Evie was cool as a cucumber and rolled with the punches. In the end, the plan B ceremony site was just as lovely and the rain stayed away all day. Her four other bridesmaids looked stunning in their red dresses and tangerine-colored flowers. And looking at Evie in her wedding gown, you would have thought the dress was created just for her. Simply gorgeous.

All the weddings of our law school friends that have taken place since graduation have served as a WULAW Class of 2005 reunion, of sorts. First it was Sean and Laura's wedding in 2006, then our wedding and St. Louis reception in 2007. Evie and Sean's reception last weekend was no exception. It was fantastic to see so many of my friends and classmates, especially now that Jack and I live so far away, and we all had a great time catching up and toasting the happy couple (read: indulging in an open bar) over the course of the evening.

I didn't get to say bye to Evie at the reception and I think the newlyweds just returned from Cabo a couple days ago, so I haven't even had a chance yet to tell her what a great time we had.
But congratulations again, you two! We wish you both nothing but happiness!

[Note: Last weekend was when my camera officially started going downhill, so all my pics are soft and fuzzy. You're not drunk and your computer screen isn't broken. They're just blurry.]

Me, Evie and Martina. The three of us spent our first law school spring break in a car together for a total of 52 hours and we still managed to like each other when we got back home. Now that's true friendship!

The WashU girls: Martina, Brigid, Evie, Meghan and me.

The whole WULAW crew.

Engagement Season

Everybody always says there is that time in your lives when it seems that everyone you know is getting married. In the past month, three of my favorite couples have decided to make things official. This, of course, comes just four months after my college roommate got engaged, just one week after one of my best friends from law school got married, and just two weeks before we head to Colorado to see two other good friends tie the knot. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that "that time in my life" might be now.

Kevin (my law school trial team partner, and all-in-all one of my favorite people on the planet) and Emily got engaged at the end of April. Steve (Jack's fraternity brother) and Christina got engaged two weeks ago today. And Natalie (one of my bridesmaids, a dear friend from college, and the person responsible for introducing me to my husband) and Tyson got engaged on Friday night.

Of course I am elated for these girls, each of whom I adore, but I really have to give the boys credit for their ability to truly shock their brides-to-be and pull off some memorable and wonderful proposals. All three proposals happened at home (two in the living room, one in the dining room), but each was a total surprise and each coincided with another momentous event. Seconds after Kevin proposed he presented Emily with two plane tickets to fly her home to Chicago to tell her friends and family in person. Tyson got down on one knee minutes after he and Natalie put an offer on their first condo. And Steve popped the question to Christina (who was, at the time, 38 weeks pregnant with their first baby) on Mother's Day.

Let's all say it together now....
Awwwwwww.

As much as I love a good proposal story (and seeing new sparkly baubles on my friends' left hands), I have to admit that the best part of all this is just seeing everyone so blissful and in love. I've known Natalie for about nine years, Kevin for six, and Steve and Christina for at least three or four. As a friend, there is nothing more satisfying than seeing the people you care for find that kind of happiness.

So...

Emily & Kevin...

Christina & Steve...

Natalie & Tyson....

Congratulations!!

I Always Wanted to Marry a Doctor

Technically Jack finished his PhD (in molecular microbiology and immunology, from Saint Louis University) last November, but because we had already moved to California at that point, he wasn't able to walk in the commencement ceremony (not that he had any interest in it whatsoever), so he just had his diploma shipped to San Diego and called it a day. But when we found out that SLU's May graduation festivities would take place during the time we were already planning to be in St. Louis last weekend, my mother-in-law and I insisted that Jack had to participate. As boring as commencement exercises may be, she and I both swelled with pride when we saw Jack in his doctoral robe and hood and heard his name (and impossibly hard to comprehend title of his dissertation) announced.

Honey, thanks for obliging us in walking across the stage this one last time and posing for a million pictures wearing headgear that flatters no one. I am so proud of you.

Dr. & Mrs....
Sure does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

What Happens in Vegas Goes on my Blog

Two weekends ago, Jack and I took a little road trip up through the Mojave to meet up with a somewhat eclectic group of our friends (who were largely Vegas virgins) in Sin City to enjoy one last weekend of ignorant bliss before my bar results came out. Since we could only get away for two nights, we decided we might as well do it up right and book a room at the world-class Wynn Hotel & Casino (and yeah, we got it for way cheaper than the going rate of $599/night).

We were joined at the Wynn by our favorite North Dakotans and fellow destination wedding veterans, Ashley & Joey, who were making their first-ever trip to Vegas to celebrate Joey's birthday and graduation (and it's only because they were celebrating a special occasion that I wasn't pissed that they had a beautiful view of The Strip while our room looked out onto a rooftop). Next door at the brand-new Palazzo all-suites hotel was my law school buddy, Jon, and his wonderful girlfriend, Kat, who were making their first sans-family trip to Vegas. Way down at the other end of the strip at the MGM was my dear friend, Kevin, and his beautiful new fiancee, Emily, who were both taking in their very first Vegas experience. And finally, we were fortunate enough to get to meet up with my old friend, Brian, who, as a resident of Las Vegas, was perhaps the only person amongst who really had a clue what was going on.

Because Jack and I decided to drive in after work on Friday, we didn't actually make it to Vegas until well after ten o'clock. When Ash and Joey arrived an hour or so later, they quickly hopped into a change of clothes and had a quick beer with me, Jack, Jon and Kat (we came equipped with a jug of sangria, 36 bottles of beer and a fifth of vodka + mixers) before we all headed over to the sexy Shadow Bar in Caesar's Palace. At $14/drink we didn't want to stay too long, but somehow we didn't make it back to the hotel until about 3am.

For me and Ashley, Saturday was spent trying to hunt down chairs at The Wynn's very crowded (and honestly, not that special) adults-only swimming pool. The boys (plus Kat and Emily) went over to Jack's favorite hole-in-the-wall casino, Ellis Island, a couple blocks off the strip, to partake in their low-limit table games, $6.99 steak dinner, and infamous $1 beers. After two hour's worth of text messages from Jack swearing they would meet us at the pool "after this drink," they finally showed back up at The Wynn (after they tried to sneak into an employee entrance, apparently) totally schnockered.

Ash & Joey caught one of the Cirque du Soleil shows that night while Kat was fighting off a nasty stomach bug and Jack and I were drinking in our room with Jon. Later all of us (minus Kev and Emily, who were at the opposite end of the strip and didn't want to come out, and Kat, who was still sick) met up at Koi in the brand-new Planet Hollywood Casino for some fantastic sushi.
With every intention of getting our groove on at Tryst after dinner, the six of us started trekking back toward The Wynn on foot. About one block into the walk, Jack decided that a cab would be a far better idea. However, upon hailing one he learned that they were only allowed to carry five passengers so one of us would have to stay behind. Despite the fact that he's the one who wanted the cab to begin with, Jack volunteered to find another way back to the hotel and sent us all on our way in the cab. For whatever insane reason, he then decided the most logical method of transportation would be to remove his shirt (lest it get sweaty) and begin jogging down the right turn lane (because the sidewalks were full of people and he'd rather take on cars) in his Kenneth Cole shoes. For several blocks traffic kept us at roughly the same pace Jack was running. When we got stopped at a light, Jack would jog past the passenger side windows. Then we'd get going and pass him up, and then we'd stop and he'd jog past the windows again. The whole thing was hysterical. And truthfully, I had to give my hubby some kudos because he made it back to the hotel lobby on foot less than one minute after we jumped out of the cab. Kind of impressive!

Our plans for Tryst got a little foiled when Ash and Joey's sleep deprivation got the best of them and they decided to call it a night at 11pm. Jack, Jon, Brian and I opted instead for Plan B and grabbed a couple seats at the bar in the small, low-key venue, Mist, in Treasure Island. Having somehow come upon buy-one-get-one drink coupons, we managed to have several rounds of drinks and only spend $55 between Jack and me (which, by Vegas standards, is virtually unheard of). After Jon took off to check in on his ailing lady, Brian bought us a round of yummo shots and we all called it a night around 4:30am after grabbing a snack (breakfast?) at the 24 hour restaurant in our hotel.

We spent Sunday eating obscene amounts of crab legs, bacon, and eight different types of potatoes at the buffet in The Bellagio (note to self: avoid all Vegas buffets on Mother's Day. The wait was several hours long). Because a trip to LV wouldn't be complete without seeing the famed Bellagio Fountains, we stopped just long enough for some pictures before Kevin and Emily took off to have their picture taken at the wedding chapel where her grandparents were married, and Jack and I headed back to the hotel to bid farewell to Ash and Joey and get back on the road to SoCal.

Overall, it was probably the most low-key, relaxed Vegas trip I've ever had. No dance clubs, no strip clubs, no public intoxication. I didn't gamble at all. We didn't see any shows. We didn't catch a single sunrise. All in all, I can't say that anything that happened in Vegas needed to stay there! Haha.

It was, however, a great weekend and just what I needed to take some of the edge off the impending bar results. It was fantastic, as always, to see Ashley, Joey, Jon, Kat, Kevin, Emily and Brian. And I think this trip was proof positive that a great weekend in Sin City isn't measured by how glamorous your hotel is, how much you win, how much you drink, how late you stay out, or how many hot strangers you meet. It's all in the company you come there with.

Me and Jack at Shadow.

We're hot.
Jon and Kat.

Sadly, this is the most normal picture I have of Ash and Joey together. That boy just would not smile for my camera!

Ash & Joey, Jack & me, Jon & Kat...on our way home on Friday night/Saturday morning.

Ash's heels were killing her so Joey ever so sweetly offered to lend her his flipflops for the walk home (which yes, left him walking barefoot down the Las Vegas Strip). So here we have Ash's foot in Joey's shoe, featured with the free reading material Joey picked up along the way.

We're still hot.

This time we're hot because we're laying out and it's the flippin' desert.

This is what five rounds of beer + two pink drinks ("but we're not gay!") looks like.

Me and Bri on Saturday night/Sunday morning.

At this point in the night Jack and I were by ourselves and trying to take self-portraits all over Vegas. They all turned out terrible, so thankfully some random stranger offered to snap this pic of us in front of one of The Wynn's waterfalls.

Bellagio Fountains set against the Paris hotel's miniature Eiffel Tower.

Jack, me, Emily and Kevin.

Saying goodbye in the lobby. :(

Whirlwind

For almost an entire year I felt my life was hanging in the balance while I waited to be admitted to the California Bar. Would I lose my job at this outstanding firm? What state bar would I be studying for this summer? Where would Jack and I make our home? Each and every night I was consumed by the fear of the unknown. The countdown to the results...first in November, then again in May...was agonizingly slow. The waiting and wondering seemed to last a lifetime.

Then, not even three days ago I found out that I passed the exam. Just one hour ago I was sworn in by a San Diego Superior Court Judge in a private ceremony in the Family Court, with only my husband and a partner from my firm in attendance. Tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. I will be back in that same courthouse all by myself, handling a TRO hearing for the first time in almost a year. In the blink of an eye it all came together. Right now I can hardly catch my breath.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

The Day

Well friends, the time as come.

For exactly six months I have been waiting for this day to arrive; part of me wishing I could push the fast forward button and know how the story ends, and part of me wishing the day would never come so I could continue to live in the bliss of believing there is a chance. The results of the July 2007 California bar were released on November 16, 2007. Six months to the day later, I sit here trying to calm my nerves and ready myself for the news that will surely change my life.

The issue is sort of black and white for me. There will be no third attempt at the California Bar. If I passed, we stay in San Diego and make California our home for many years to come. If I failed, we will immediately begin making plans to move back to Missouri (or perhaps to Chicago? Dallas? Boston? Philadelphia?). Jack isn't renewing his contract at UCSD, so right now, the world is our oyster.

If I dare admit this, I honestly feel okay going into this evening. Not "sure" or even "confidant," but okay. Last time around I knew I had failed but I allowed myself to cling on to the outside chance that perhaps I am just a genius and could pass the California bar on 18 days of study time (in case you're considering this as an appropriate study plan for yourself, let me assure you that it doesn't work). This time, I know where my mistakes and weaknesses were, but only because I was so much better prepared. Will it be enough? In nine hours I'll know...

Right now there are about 5,000 people nervously checking their watches to see how much longer they have to continue wondering. By dinnertime tonight, most of us will know. By lunchtime tomorrow, the hangovers will start to subside and a plan for the immediate future will start to materialize. For me, I hope the plan includes Jack applying for jobs in southern California, and me preparing my argument for the hearing I'll be handling on Tuesday afternoon if the news is good. But even if my plan includes U-hauls and job interviews in another state, I know we'll get through it and end up wherever we belong.

This experience has humbled me in a way that I never could have imagined. No matter the news I get tonight, I am better and stronger for having survived this.

I am anxious to hear how my fellow bloggers fared, but don't expect an immediate post from me tonight. At the moment the results are released, I will be sitting behind home plate in Busch Stadium watching the Cards take on Tampa Bay. The results page is already bookmarked in my Q and I've verified with past examinees that you can, in fact, check your results this way. A hot dog in one hand and a beer in the other, dressed in my pink and white Cardinals jersey (over my lucky bra, of course), with my husband and 44,000 St. Louis fans by my side...
This is home. It's nowhere near California. And it's exactly where I want to be when I get the news that may change my life.

Best of luck to all the other examinees.

Angie & Kit's Visit to San Diego + Blaise's Birthday

All this bar exam mania has me a little behind in my blogging, but I had to take a couple minutes to post about the great time we had with Angie and Kit when they were in town two weeks ago! Although Angie has been out to visit me once before and Kit regularly travels to San Diego on business, this was their first time out to see us together. Since Kit was already going to be out here for work (and thus had a room at a nice Gaslamp hotel and his airfare paid for) Angie decided it was a good excuse to escape the never ending onslaught of rain Missouri has had this year and spend a few days in the San Diego sun. Good decision!

Neither of them wasted any time getting outside when they got here and they both spent some time by the pool and dining outside at C Level (which Angie enjoyed so much when I took her and Alex there that she called me for the name so she could take Kit). The first night they were both in town, Jack and I grabbed some pre-dinner cocktails with Angie at Currant in downtown San Diego and later on Kit met up with us at Stout for some low-key pub fare. We had a few drinks and a few laughs (especially when Angie, who is a vegetarian, bit into her veggie burger and declared it the best meat-free burger she'd ever had, only to realize it was 100% beef) and called it a night fairly early.

On Friday Angie and I got together for a girls-only lunch at one of my favorite little restaurants in San Diego--Cafe Chloe--before she did some shopping in the Gaslamp. That night we took them to a well-known restaurant in Balboa Park called The Prado for copious amounts of sangria and some of the best calamari I've found. We ended the night with the guys taking each other on in a couple rousing games of bowling at East Village Tavern & Bowl.

While Jack and Kit were busy working and scarfing down pizza and microbrews together on Saturday afternoon, Angie and I decided to take our chances with the sharks (this was the day after that poor guy was killed off the coast of San Diego) and head to the beach at Torrey Pines Reserve for some sun and sand. A weekend with Angie wouldn't be complete without us doing a little shopping together, so we made a few quick purchases before we headed back to my place to get ready to party.

That night my friend and former colleague, Clarice, was throwing her fabulous french boyfriend, Blaise, a huge 45th birthday celebration at their magnificent home in Rancho Santa Fe. I think all four of us were in awe when we walked into their house! By far the most amazing home any one I actually know has ever lived in! And Clarice had gone all out for the event--catered Mexican food, an open bar out on their huge patio and lawn, a nanny to watch all the kiddos in a separate part of the house, and lots of fun and flashy decor. She'd even had all the furniture moved out of one room so a DJ could set up all his lights and equipment and get one hell of a dance party started. Between Angie, Allison (who was also celebrating her 30th birthday that same day), Jessika and about a gallon of white wine, I was certainly motivated to get my groove on.

Since I didn't actually get a chance to tell Angie and Kit goodbye (all that wine put me right to sleep the minute we got home!), let me take this opportunity to thank you both for a very fun weekend. As always, it was great to see you both and we'll be looking forward to your next visit!

Single Digits

According to the nifty little countdown clock in the left column of my blog, the California Bar Results will be released in nine days. Just typing those words makes my stomach churn.

For the first three weeks after the exam, it seemed to follow me around like a living, breathing thing whose sole existence was premised on turning me into a neurotic basketcase. I had surely developed a case of bar-induced OCD because my work day could not begin until I'd methodically checked all the California Bar blogs, read the newest posts at JDJinx, and stopped by the official Calbar website just to re-read the statistics, the exam questions...whatever. Perhaps my most peculiar obsession was my own self-critiquing. Armed with the knowledge of my scores from the last go-round, I have repeatedly attempted to gauge how I feel I performed this time. I've even gone so far as to create a Word document on my work computer which lists each of the six essay topics and both performance tests, along with all the issues I discussed for each (they were burned in my memory this time, so it wasn't hard to recollect them), a list of the mistakes I made, and the score I feel I may have earned. Then, like any good schizo, I would pull out my calculator and add them up to see if the total was above 630. I printed my meaningless little Word document (seriously, how the hell do I know what I might have scored on each essay?) and I keep it in my wallet, right next to the exam ID card that bears the magic numbers I'll plug into the Calbar website in nine days to see if the second time is the charm. I've just lost all credibility for sanity, haven't I?

Truthfully though, after several weeks the intense urge to gather every bit of information about the exam so I could analyze it all over again waned a little. I slowly slipped back into my regular routine, stopped talking about the exam incessantly, and started focusing on work and travel and my regular life. I was abstractly aware of the countdown, but happily floating around in a little bubble where I felt okay about the exam and willing to let it go for the time being.

Then last Friday I was suddenly made aware of how much anxiety has still been stirring inside me while I was busy trying to move on. In the car on the way to work that morning, David Bowie's "Under Pressure" came on the radio. That song was one of eight that I had on a short bar-themed playlist that I had listened to every morning on the way to the exam and every afternoon on the lunch break. While my conscious mind was focused on the marital settlement agreement I needed to draft that day, my subconscious apparently recognized the angst associated with that song and caused my breath to catch in my chest and tears to come rolling down my cheeks. Whoa! Where the hell did all that come from?

Ever since then, my awareness of the impending D-Day has risen prominently back into my mind. Once again I'm making the daily rounds to Grand Poobah, Measuring Life, A Girl Walks Into a Bar Exam, and JDJinx to check in with the kindred spirits who share in my agony. And even the slightest passing thought about the results being posted instantly causes that uncomfortable, heavy feeling to return to my gut.

I thought I was feeling the pressure at exam time, but if I'm honest, this helpless feeling (not much I can do about my score now!) and the lingering doubt that clouds every day is far worse.

I know there are a few February '08 Cal bar takers who occasionally stop by. How is everyone feeling?

Cyclophobia

We try to take Mason out for a run, walk or hike several times a week on the trails near our condo complex (let's be honest, he can use the exercise just as much as we can). Unless we're on top of the mesa behind our building, Mason wears a leash. Always. He likes to charge after other dogs (and sometimes babies in strollers), so we need to be able to keep him reined in, but he's not typically intimidated by other runners or bicyclists or, well, anything.

Last weekend Jack decided to conduct a little experiment. During a three mile jog on the trail, he decided to let ADHD dog off his leash. For the most part, Mason apparently did pretty well. This arrangement allowed him to stop and sniff (which he seems to need to do a lot) and then run to catch up with Jack, and then stop and sniff, and then run to catch up with Jack. They passed other joggers and hikers...all without incident.

But then Mason got run over.

Umm, yeah. It seems he got a little confused by a bike coming toward them. Rather than moving off to either side, he decided to just accept his impending doom and lay down in the middle of the trail with the widest part of his belly perpendicular with the front wheel of the bicycle (Jack swears this is because Mason knows how cute he is and he wanted to protect his best asset).

I'm told the ensuing conversation went something like this:

Biker: Oh my God, I hit your dog!

Jack: No man, he's fine. How's your bike?

(Mason still laying on his side, not moving; Jack totally unconcerned.)

Biker: Really, I think I hit your dog. I'm so sorry!

Jack: Don't be sorry. Totally my fault. But seriously, how's your bike?

Ah yes, the voice of a concerned father. Naturally, Jack thought Mason was a-okay. But of course I freaked out a little. I was totally convinced that my poor baby probably saw his life flash before his big brown eyes as he was thinking "so this is how it ends." But he's resilient and his memory is short. Jack said Mason bounced up ten seconds later and resumed his light-hearted trot. He probably doesn't even remember the bike, right?

Wrong. Fast-forward to tonight. I decided to take Mason on a three-mile hike after work. The first bike we encountered whizzed past us from behind. Mason just about tripped over himself trying to jump off the trail. However, the guy was hauling ass and kind of startled me too, so I didn't think much of it.

When another quick-moving bike approached us from the front a few minutes later, Mason leaped into the brush. At this point I'm starting to get concerned, but refuse to believe my fearless pooch is scared of bikes.

However, when we encountered two little girls going about 5mph on pink Hello Kitty bikes with streamers on the handlebars and Mason wrapped his leash around my knees to cower behind my legs until they passed, I knew we had an issue.

Over the course of our hike we passed another nine cyclists. By the time we got back to the trailhead, he looked like a paranoid schizophrenic. Every ten steps he'd stop and look behind him. When we approached a bend in the trail he'd inch up to it and try to peer around the corner just to make sure nothing was coming. And if, God forbid, we did cross paths with one of those two-wheeled aluminum killing machines, I would have to squat down and hold him just to keep him from dragging both of us into a ravine.

So Mason is traumatized with a mean case of cyclophobia. He's now officially scared to death of bicycles.