Tag Archives: college

Quick Update

I have lots to write about but not enough time the day before school starts so this is just a tiny update before the bigger recap of last week that includes vomit, chipmunks, a septic system and a dog.

But I’m in a rush because I (drum roll)


I’ve wanted to get back to school for a long time.  I’m hoping it helps get me back to forced writing because I will be out and at the library.  And I’ve wanted to learn Spanish for a while now.

I called a friend yesterday who recently went back to school and asked her how it was.  Of course, she is going back to get a teacher certificate and is full time and not auditing one class so next time I go to a Spanish-speaking country I can ask for gluten free nachos.  (This is supposed to be a humorous dig at me learning Spanish and has nothing to do with my glutationous consumption.)

She said I would have to give up things.  It would be a sacrifice.  Homework is a killer.

I thought: “This won’t be like that because it’s ONE class.  I know the basics already.  I HAVE been to Cancun.  Twice.”

Then I logged into my book and workbook online.  I couldn’t figure it out.  You can buy a book for A LOT of DINERO (look Spanish) or you can buy an e-book.  But e-books are hard for me.  I have to scroll around.  I have to enlarge.  I can’t seem to figure out how to drag the answers over.  It’s driving me insane.  MUCHO LOCO.  or MUY LOCO.

I dunno.  We didn’t go over that on the first day.

So I’m seriously considering buying the book because I’m old and need paper.

And today I’m rushing around getting back to school hair cuts and activities I’ve put off for the whole summer (the Sapphire Mine was not a high priority) and getting my daughter and her friend’s nails done for the first day of school (should not have been a high priority, but come on)  and I made a goal to make healthy lunches this year and dinners and plan it out and I’ve been talking about this so much I’ve been asked to teach a 10 minute spiel (oops  German.) and so I’ve been researching that.

So I’m going to have to give something up because I’m running out of time to do my homework for class tomorrow.

I think my nails may have to start growing hang nails and looking sad and pathetic again.

Except how will a class full of 18-20 year olds respect me if I have bad cuticles?  I feel like I must show them that life gets better after 40 (even though I’m only admitting to 35 in that class but I’m going to tell everyone how much I look forward to turning 40).

Vanity must not be put aside.

Pizza for lunch and dinner for the next 180 days it is!

See?  This whole going back to school thing is gonna be a cinch.

(I apologize.  I can’t post the picture of my nails.  My phone is having issues from trying to do my homework on it. )



Do Friendships Based on Food Last?

It finally happened.  One of my many fears in life.  I was at the Salt Lake City Airport and I saw someone I knew.

I was sitting at the terminal with my daughter.  The flight before ours was getting ready to board when a group of four men stood up and I think:
“Hey!  I know him.  I think I knew him in England.  I should just yell Coats.  But is it Coats?  Sure, it is.  Wait.  Coats had glasses.  He doesn’t have glasses.”
(Luckily I didn’t think about how I was wearing contacts and therefore others might be as well.)
“But I know I know him.”

So I stared at him as he walked toward the gate.  I turned in my seat and nonchalantly looked.  (Unless staring without blinking isn’t nonchalant.)
Then it HIT! Greg! From my sophomore year of college.  My roommate and I hung out with him and two of his roommates for a whole summer.  We met because I’d had a bad day.
The guy I was “in looooove with” ignored me; I didn’t get the grade I wanted in a class; my hair didn’t work; my pants were tight.
(I don’t actually remember but these were the things that upset me when I was 19.)

I got home in the evening, put on my bathing suit and decided I was going to jump in the pool and sit on the bottom for about 39 seconds.  I stood on the diving board.  I got prepared to jump.  I looked down.  It looked cold.  I wasn’t the Olympic swimmer I am back then.  Cold water always stopped me.  I stood on that diving board for about fifteen minutes.  Maybe more.
Then I heard: “Just do it.”
I looked up.  Some guy was sitting on a chair by the pool reading.  I’d wanted a private moment.  I deserved a little privacy while standing on the community pool’s diving board in the dead center of a four building apartment complex.  Next to the parking lot.
“You’ve been there for fifteen minutes.  Jump.”
“It looks cold.”
“Do it.”
“You do it.”
“I’m not in a bathing suit.”
“I’m contemplating.”
“If you jump now, you can go with me and my friends to the all you can eat buffet for $5.99 at Brick Oven.”
“Brick Oven has an all you can eat?”
“Yes.  But you can’t come unless you jump.”
He stood at the edge of the pool and waited.
“Pizza and pasta?” I asked.
“And bread sticks.”
I jumped, got out, changed, told my roommate we were going to dinner and started a wonderful friendship built on cheap food.  It lasted a whole summer and was one of the more fulfilling friendships I had in college.

I didn’t say hi.  He was third in line to board when I realized who he was.  Calling someone back as they enter an airport gate is usually reserved for romantic couples calling out to each other to stay.  Not for calling: “Hey do you remember me? We shared Nachos Grande.”

We'd probably still be friends if we'd started with cake.

We’d probably still be friends if we’d started with cake.

How to Change Your Appearance through Tagging

It all started yesterday when my friend and I were talking and I heard that a girl drove from Utah to Montana to buy a car because she liked the car salesman.  I thought: That’s a little obvious.


Then I realized I’d done obvious things in college.
Like the time I wanted to meet Justin and he was on the other side of the cafeteria so my friend hid our salt shaker and told me to go ask him for the salt.  So I did.  Of course, to ask him for the salt, I actually passed about 20 other people and probably 6 other salt shakers.  His looked fresher.  His friends told him I was into him; he had really observant friends.


I told my friend this story.  And due to the fact I liked him because I thought he looked like Micheal Stipe I showed her a picture of both.  But smart phones can be tricky and I ended up tagging myself in his profile picture until I figured out how to untag.


So for a full five minutes yesterday, I was a 6’2” bald man.
Today I just feel a little funny.

What Am I Now That I’ve Grown Up

Generally I tell people I’m a writer.  Unless I tell them I’m a lawyer. Sometimes I’m unemployed.  They’re all true.  I guess the last one isn’t.  I work for my husband now.  I often look back on unemployment fondly.

I tell people I’m a writer because that’s what I truly feel I am.  But people ask what I’ve written which is funny, actually.  Because unless you’re JK Rowling, the likelihood that someone will recognize the title of something you’ve written is very small.  Try it.

Tell someone you’re a writer and then make up a title.  If a man asks, you could say, “The Lady’s Selection” and be pretty sure he won’t look it up.  If it’s a woman, that’s a little harder.  Try “The Bloodbath that is War.”

If I tell people I’m a lawyer, they ask me what type of law I practice.  I think this is to see if they can get some free advice.

If I’m bored and tell people I’m unemployed, I’ll try and start a political debate and throw in the phrase: “what a fascist.”  That can be really hard to do at times.

I try to avoid telling people I work with my husband’s books.  Because that’s the truth.

And I went to 6 years of graduate school so I could make stuff up.

Parenting Quiz:


(IE: Does this something I would’ve said coming out of my children’s mouths?)

I picked up my 10 year old son from Wilderness Survival Camp.  (Someone in the family must be prepared for Zombies.)

Me: So how did it go?

Him: Well there was this one kid who was really bossy.  He took control and was so bossy.  I asked him if he was an only child.

My 6 year old son was telling a joke. My 8 yr old daughter was listening.

6 yr old: What do you ask a person hanging from a limb?

Kevin: How’s it hanging?

6 yr old: No.  How are you hanging there?

8 yr old: Uh-uh.

6 yr old: Uh-huh.

This goes on for a while until I say: Who cares:

8 yr old: He shouldn’t be telling that joke anyhow because it’s from a movie.

Me: So?

8 yr old: It could be copyrighted.

Hint: I proceeded to explain to her that often copyrighted things can be used for personal, at home use as long as no profit is made.

Going back to Law School

I recently went back to Iowa for my friend’s daughter’s wedding.  I hadn’t been back since I graduated law school almost 11 years ago.  I also haven’t used my law degree for about 11 years.

I was an average student.   I was looking for an average, medium-powered job and people get referrals based on how good a lawyer currently is; not on their rank in law school.  (I get excellent referrals, by the way.  They just have nothing to do with law.)

This pictures proves I graduated from here

This pictures proves I graduated from here

I walked in and almost felt a whoosh carrying me back to the past.   I should have 20 lbs of books on my back and a constant prayer on my lips I wouldn’t be called on that day.  But then I noticed a couple things:

1. The entrance has furniture now.  There are actual chairs to sit on.  We had chairs on the first and fourth floors but not on the main floor, where you spend a lot of your time.  The ground was good enough for us, thank you.

2.  There were TV screens in the building for announcements.  It also displayed the weather.  11 years ago, we had to walk up to a board and read a piece of paper for our announcements.  We had to look out a window to find out the weather.  We had to earn our info.

3. The biggest change: the cafe serves Starbucks coffee and real food.  I don’t drink coffee, but even I know this is a step up from the big black bags they used with “Regular” and “Decaf” stamped in white.  And you didn’t stop here for lunch.  You bought water, a Diet Coke and, on bad days, a giant Snickers.  I think they had instant oatmeal you made yourself.

We only had a water spicket coming out of the wall

We only had a water spicket coming out of the wall

I worry about the future of the law.  Because it looks like law students are getting soft.

I’m a Tricycle

I think I’m having an existential crisis again.  But I’m not completely sure.  Mostly because I’m a little confused on what an existential crisis is.

If what I think it is is what it is then I am.  And if it’s not what I think it is and it’s annoying you that I’m using this phrase, then the rest of this post is just going to make you more annoyed so I think you should google “blogs that use the word existential correctly.”  And we’ll see you later.

But you should come back.  I’m listening to a class on Waterfront law issues and I’m sure I’ll have amazing things to write about afterwards.

I'm just sad it's only 5 hours.

I’m just sad it’s only 5 hours.

I think I’m watching too much bad teen television.  (I’m open to suggestions on good teen television.)  It’s making me question my life: thus my use of existential.  (I threw in thus just in case anyone who didn’t like my use of the word existential hung around.  I find a good thus solves many problems.)

I recently spoke to a friend of mine I hadn’t spoken with for a year or so.  Whenever I talk to someone I haven’t for a while, I ponder how we met.  (thus + ponder = appeasement)  After I hung up, I thought about how I got to know her because I knew her boyfriend first and then we all clicked and I hung out with the two of them.  It wasn’t a big deal.  I believe at the time I was overcoming an over-sized crush on an unobtainable man. (This description may also be coming from teen television.)  And then I thought about it some more and watched a couple episodes of Teen Wolf and realized that for 6 months of my life, I was the third wheel.  (Lightening should be going off in the background and Vincent Price should’ve read that last line.)

I’m not sure how I could’ve missed that for almost 20 years.   I feel like I’ve been living a lie.  I’m not sure what the lie would be because I do remember being invited and not inviting myself and I think it only happened 3 or 4 times BUT I do think this proves one thing:  I need to watch more teen television.

FYI: Orange is the new apostrophes, underlining of proper nouns, and italics.


A friend of mine sent me a mixed-tape.  Mixed-tapes are interesting because you see what a person thinks of you.  I haven’t seen this person since I was a babe in the woods.  Wait.  If I capitalize that, does it change the connotation of babe?

Babe in the woods.

Let’s try it highlighted: Babe in the woods.

But if it changes the connotation and I say “was” does that mean I’m no longer a Babe*?  Or is it that I no longer live in the woods. I could be a Babe in the valley, but I’ve never wanted to be from the valley.
I’m going to have to think about this some more.

Maybe my friend does know me.

She included Dazed and Confused by Led Zepplin.

mixed CD just doesn't sound the same.  I'm a child of the 80's.  Leave me alone.

mixed-CD just doesn’t sound the same. I’m a child of the 80’s. Leave me alone.

*the fact I call it a mixed-tape proves the correct verb to use is “was.”

Rise and Shout, and Fight, Fight, Fight for Iowa

I don’t support my alma maters’ football teams. I feel bad about this. But it takes so much effort. I have to find out when they play. And then, because we don’t have cable or satellite right now, I have to find a place to watch them play. And then, if that weren’t enough, I have to care if they win.

And I have two alma maters and I don’t want to show favoritism to one of them so I’d have to watch two games a week. I’m building a house right now and I just can’t make the commitment.

Not that my teams aren’t fun to watch.

University of Iowa wins with some consistency and Iowa fans are amazing. If you are at the University of Iowa on a game day, you don’t have to go to the game to have a blast. The tailgating there is an Olympic event. Truly amazing.

BYU is fairly consistent too, I guess. They consistently lose when it’s a high pressure/stakes game. But they’ve gotten better since they picked a better blue for the team color. When I attended BYU, it was this weird sky blue color no one looked good in. I’m one of those people who believe a team wins more games when they don’t want to hurry into the locker room to take powder blue skin-tight pants off. And when they are winning, no one is more exciting to watch.

But I don’t know any of the players and I no longer wish to date any. I’m not saying this was my motivation for attending games or following the teams while attending these institutions of higher learner, but it didn’t hurt, either.

I think if I still lived in Provo, I’d go to the games. Unless I was committed to an asylum for still living in Provo.

I could live in Iowa City and attend the games. I think I’d only need outpatient counseling for my law school flashbacks. (“But you called on my already this week, Mr. Carrasco. I don’t know what the issue is. I don’t know who the parties are. I don’t know. I just don’t know. (cry here.))

All of this is just too hard. I think I’ll keep pretending I care about Montana college teams, instead. Quick – is University of MT the Bobcats or is that Montana State?


I am addicted to a show called Endgame.  (Some of you may be noticing that I am addicted to a lot of TV shows.  I would like you to know that I don’t drink or do drugs.  Therefore, I must find my addictions elsewhere and I’ve chosen TV shows and Diet Pepsi.)  (But I really do appreciate the concern.)

This show is about an agoraphobic Chess master who lives in a hotel.  It’s a Canadian program that you can only find on Hulu in the U.S.  I found it while I had the flu a few weeks ago.

I’m not sure why I like it.  I don’t really play chess unless my son makes me and the first time I played chess, it was a huge failure.

I was on a double date, sort of.  I was out with a friend, we will call Justin, whose roommate wanted to date my friend, we will call Kim.  Does that make sense? Justin and I were very platonic, insert 18 yr old love sick sigh.  But Justin’s roommate really, really wanted to call what we were on a double date.  So we did.

He taught Kim how to play chess.  They played for 45 minutes (we were in line to see Cyrano de Bergerac with Gérard Depardieu.  The line was 1.5 hours long.)  She had never played before.  I think he explained the game very carefully to her.  He then asked if I would like to play.  I said yes.  He told me how the pieces moved but didn’t really go over the object of the game too well.  He told me that “Check” meant you were about to get the King.  Well, from that information, it’s only natural to assume “Checkmate” means you are about to get the Queen.  (Think about it for a minute and it will come to you.)  I lost in 10 minutes.

It was a little humiliating.

Maybe I like Endgame because the main character knows how to play chess and has a psychological disorder and due to my humiliation, I would like to think the two things go together.

(And yes it is time I got over that experience, but my 9 year old son recently beat me so the wound is still fresh.)