I think we're only up to 4.

On Wednesday, while Beloved was in the shower, I rifled through his bags to find our trip itinerary. I wanted to know what time we were leaving and clearly could not wait the 2.3 minutes until he emerged from the shower (mmm, yummy ... Beloved fresh from shower).

I saw the time: 3:10.

Good, I thought. We have a good chunk of the day to play in Amsterdam, still. We had decided to get a shuttle to the airport, rather than take the train, on account of the extra bags we acquired, filled to the rim with souveniers and goodies, and did the math to figure out what time to make a reservation for. We made the reservation for 12:45, which would get us to the airport at 1:15, approximately 2 hours before the flight, as "required" for international flights.

We woke earlier than usual on our departure day (Thursday .... god, only YESTERDAY?), and checked out of the hotel by 9 or so. We then walked down the Leidseplein* to a pancake house (sports bar by night) next to what seemed the most commercial of "coffeeshops" - the Bull Dog (which we had not visited). We nibbled happily on pancakes and went for our final (and 50th?) stroll of the streets and canals of the city. We bought chocolate. We discussed what food to bring on the plane. Then Beloved said:

I know you said the flight was at 3, and I didn't check for myself, do you know if it was right at 3? Or 3:30? Or what?

Hmm. I thought 3.

Then I started to freak out. I couldn't picture the itinerary in my head. When I looked, it was for a general sense of things, not to really confirm the time. Not all official and stuff. What if I got it wrong? What if it was the time we were landing in Iceland (fucking Iceland)? My heart started to race, and I told Beloved, "we need to go back to the hotel now."

The itinerary was in the luggage room, in his carry on case. We pulled it out.

Guess what time our plane was taking off?

Not 3:10.

It was landing at 3:10. In Iceland.

It was taking off at 2 p.m.

So really, 12:45 would not be the death of us, we would just be there 45 minutes early instead of 2 hours.

We had the desk clerk call the shuttle company, and she was only able to bump us up by 30 minutes. We ended up spending that 30 minutes sitting nervously in the hotel lobby, instead of casually strolling along the streets of Amsterdam.

In the end, it all worked out fine.

Despite the fact that I'm the world's biggest dork.

AND! guess what?

We had been saying for weeks that the girls are coming home at 1 p.m. tomorrow.

I just pulled up their itinerary.

They land at 5.

Will I ever grow up? Ever?

*I'm so proud - I spelled it right on my first try!!

Labels: Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 5:06 PM 2 comments

Friday, June 29, 2007

Fakin' it

I packed my bag this a.m., including pencils, BarBri i.d. (which was never checked ... of course), cashews, money. Everything I needed.

I walked down the sidewalk, listening to Crim now, since I haven't really reviewed it in a while. I turned right, up the path. I saw a train go by, and thought "oh, that's okay, I have plenty of time." Then I thought about my Scan Tron form, and how I know I didn't put it in my bag. Shit. Where is it, then? Oh, I remember, I stuck it in my ....... book. The book I'm supposed to bring today for the practice test. The book that I can't participate without. Yeah. It's home.

I only killed 15 minutes. I thought I needed those 15 minutes for my coffee, and I was quite upset to think that now I'd have to be late, since I wasn't about to give up my coffee.

Fortunately, Boston seems to have upped its train frequency in the past few months. Either that, or lots of Bostonians lost their jobs. Or something. Because the trains have just not been as crowded or as unreliable as they were last summer, or this past winter, or any other time that I've been a part of the commuting herds.

I arrived at the destination station in plenty of time to get coffee. I ran into a classmate who was wandering a little confusedly, like me, and wanting me to search for the testing center with her. No, I can't. I am going for COFFEE. Leave me alone!

Then I called my friend who had worked in the area, and said, "Um, I'm sort of lost, but not really, b/c I'm walking toward Starbucks, and that's all I really care about right now." She said, "Zuska, you're a dork, I'll meet you at Starbucks."

I saw her coming down the sidewalk. She was laughing and shaking her head. Even though we'd hung up seven minutes ago. Yes, she was still laughing at ME.

And oh, the test. Yeah. Right. That's what I was there for.

At approximately 11:20, my head started spinning. In that post-essay-writing-I-need-a-break kind of way - where it's hard to focus and such. But I soldiered on (what the hell else was I going to do?) and it passed. I ended the morning feeling okay. I didn't feel like I was failing miserably (HA!), and I thought that despite the 10 minute blip of foggy-headedness, my endurance was ok.

We had a hard time finding lunch. Apparently, this part of town is up-and-coming, but they're not quite there yet. At least not there enough to handle the demands of 1,000s of bar-exam-practicers. We ended up eating slices of pizza on our way back to the testing center. We arrived to find that some rude-heads had taken our seats. Jerks.

The afternoon started with me thinking, "shit, these are harder." I didn't get foggy-headed at all, but I got super bored at approximately 3 p.m. With 50 questions left to answer. So I went and peed.

Turns out, in the morning, when I thought I was doing great, I did worse than in the afternoon, when I felt like the questions were oh-so-hard. Go figure.

All in all, I think it was a fantastic experience. Oddly, this is not sarcasm. We had the benefit of doing our practice exam in the place where the real exam will be, and I think that fact alone was hugely beneficial. I know how to get there. I know where Starbucks is. I know I need to pack a lunch (I already placed my order with Beloved). I also know how it will feel on Day 1 with 200 multiple choice Q's (not so bad), and I know I can sit through it.

I also know that I need to improve dramatically if I'm going to pass, but that according to BarBri stats, it's well within my grasp. I also think I'm going into the wrong field. I freaking rocked crim law. Real Property? the subject we just learned this past with with the world's most annoying lecturer who Lyco and I want to stab with a fork -- man, did I tank. Second worst - Contracts. I know "they" say it's the hardest, but I feel like I understand Contracts. Why do I suck at them? I do not know. Torts is my second best.

I have never before in my life been in a situation where I'm honestly content with 57%.

This is my justification for my happiness with my obvious ignorance and lack of testing skills: If I was within passing range now, a month before the exam, I would spend the next month reading novels and playing goofy computer games. I am a girl who needs some flames lapping at my ass in order to do what needs to be done.

57% is a red-hot flame. (The MA goal is 65%, I want to be at 75% so that I don't feel like one essay blown, or one multiple choice question messed up will mean failure.)

But it's not a blue flame. If I had like, say, 35% ... I may be dying right now.

Also, for anyone who cares, I'm pretty sure I'll have my period during the real bar exam.

In MA, we're not allowed to bring anything to the test that does not fit in a clear ziploc bag, I think the Gallon size. They want to be sure we're not sneaking crib sheets in. Most women are thereby forced to bring their monthly supplies to the testing center while practically screaming I AM BLEEDING TODAY. I, however, am not one of those women. I am able to have my monthly disposals without broadcasting it to the world (ha ha ha! I just wrote it on my blog! I crack myself up.) I highly highly highly recommend this monthly method to all women of the world. Women who have been forced to go up to the perhaps not so close friend and say, "do you happen to have a tampon?" Also, for anyone who may be having a visit from that distant relative in July, and doesn't want the world to know. Or at least thousands of your future colleagues.

Labels: bar exam, bar prep, boston, stress, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 7:55 PM 4 comments

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Zuska the Dork, v3

I have read on blogs, and in other places, about people who leave their iPods in their back pockets of jeans and then throw their jeans into the washer. I have a 30G video iPod, and I always think "how can people DO that? How can they not know it's there?" because I picture my large iPod.

This past year, I bought J a shuffle. She is too young for a shuffle, and never used it. She just isn't into music enough to warrant having one.

Then, I started going to the gym, and found my big iPod to be clunky and hard to handle, and thought, "I should get myself a shuffle." Then I thought, "why? J doesn't use hers, who cares that her name is engraved in it, I'm taking it." So I did. She didn't care.

I've been using it since March. Last week, I went around the reservoir, and had the shuffle in my shorts pocket.

Y'all know what I'm going to say, right?

I washed my shorts last night. I went to get the clothes from the dryer, and thought, "what the fuck?" upon opening the dryer and finding my headphones dangling from the dryer door. Then I thought, "oh, shit." I hoped upon all hope that I had done what I intended - taken the shuffle out of my pocket and put it on the charger. Nope. There it was. In the bottom of the dryer.

It wouldn't turn on. (Surprise, surprise). The headphones were wrecked, and the iPod wouldn't turn on. I showed Beloved. He said, "so! try and re-load it, see what happens." I said, "no way! I've heard of people washing them, and they're always ruined." He said to try it anyway. So I put it on the charger ....

and the charging light lit.

This a.m., I took it off the charger and plugged in my Bose headphones (thank GOD those aren't the ones that were in my pocket, I would have died), and pushed play.

And there was Alannis. Singing her heart out to me.

It seems to be working fine.

Amazing.

Labels: laundry, Music, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 4:43 PM 1 comments

Father's Day - baking, studying, swimming, studying

The girls and I made Beloved a coffee cake for Father's Day. I used this recipe, and had checked it yesterday. I looked at what we had in the cabinets, and surmised that I had everything I needed. Yet, when it came to the eggs, I panicked, thinking "I don't think we have any!" We did. We had 3 (needed 3). Then it came time for the sour cream, and I had thought yesterday "oh, we just used dollops of that on our tacos the other night, surely there's 1 1/4 cups left" - there wasn't. There was probably 4/5ths of a cup. So then I had to research substitutions. To get 1 cup of substitution of sour cream, you need 7/8th cup of buttermilk, and 3 t's of butter. In order to make buttermilk, you need 3/4 a cup of milk plus 2 t's of vinegar. I asked E to come figure out the fractions for me - b/c I needed 1/3 cup of buttermilk. Not 3/4, not 1. 1/3. I needed to know how many t's of vinegar for THAT? She couldn't really figure out the proper starting place. So I did it.

Okay, fine. The batter came out great, we got the cake in the oven. A quick check, though, showed it was a little darker than I thought it should be after 20 minutes (of 55). I looked and thought perhaps the oven was running HOT, b/c last night, when Beloved did the dishes, he left a pot cover over the burner that serves as the vent. So no heat was escaping. Then I realized not only that, but the little dot that I thought was 375, was actually the little dot for 400. Shit.

I think it's okay, though. It's out of the oven now, and cooling. Yeah it's sort of dark around the edges. But. Whatever.

The girls made him cards last night. When they really put their time into making cards, they make masterpieces. E's is like a little scrapbook, and she did a pastel drawing of a sunset on a beach that came out really gorgeous (I may photograph it later and post it).

Now I have to get them to call X.

This is where Father's Day causes angst for my kids. They don't like doing it toward 2 people. They feel/understand/know that they have TWO people to honor on this day, but they wish they could just pick one. But they don't know who to pick. X is their "father" - duh. But Beloved is a huge part of their lives, and plays the role of "dad" 350 days a year. And honestly, he does it a lot better than X.

Well, we're gonna eat coffee cake, and then the girls and I are going to the Town pool. They asked yesterday, and I thought, "I think they can go on their own" (it's 3 blocks away). Then I thought, "Oh! Wait! I am no longer unhappy with my body to the point of not putting on a bathing suit! *I* can go swimming! I can do laps! I can have fun!" So ... I'm going, too.

I was going to go to the gym this a.m., too, but when I got up at 7, I thought calling to see what their Sunday hours are would be a good idea. They opened at noon. Glad I didn't bike over. Since I was going to swim today, I just did some sit ups, push ups and weights here at home.

After the pool, the girls will either a) do something with Beloved, or b) get kicked out to the park with their roller blades and soccer balls while I sit here studying for the fucking bar exam.

Fucking bar exam. I hate you.

Labels: *E*, *J*, beloved, cooking, Father's Day, swimming, X, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 12:06 PM 0 comments

Friday, June 01, 2007

Calgon? Is that stuff even on the market anymore?

I was thinking, "I'm gonna call my friend J, and whine about how stressed I am." Then I thought, "Beloved's gonna call soon, I'm gonna whine to him about how stressed I am." Then I considered calling my mom, and whining to HER about how stressed I am. Then I thought, "why? I have a blog [for who knows how much longer], I'll whine to it about how stressed I am."

[quick aside: I hate the smell of cigarette smoke more than anything else in the world. I like the smell of skunks. I hate the smell of cologne ... but I hate the smell of cigarette smoke more. So when a collection of boys gather right outside my window and smoke like 17 packs of cigarettes, blowing their nasty-ass smoke into my general direction, I get pissy. I am just that pissy right NOW. At the same time, it gave me an excuse to close the windows and turn on the a/c, which I think was a good thing, since I just went into the bathroom and found two rather round and well-formed droplets of sweat on my face.]

I shouldn't get to complain, b/c despite my stress, I just found 20 minutes to sit at a friend's kitchen table and guzzle a glass of wine while hearing a very brief synopsis of relationship history.

But I am complaining anyway.

5:50 a.m.: Wake up; run around reservoir.
7:00 a.m.: Walk in front door, check on E's morning routine progress; usher kids toward proper clothing and breakfast consumption.
7:30 a.m.: sign a flurry of school notices due to be returned TODAY, or else children will shatter, crack, and likely die.
7:45 a.m.: say bye to children.
7:45:05 a.m.: get in shower
8:14 a.m.: Smile at myself in the mirror in my new [smaller] skirt and cute shoes.
8:25 a.m.: Leave for BarBri
9:10 a.m.: Arrive at BarBri; commence guilty feelings for not finishing the condensing of my notes last night; listen in dread to the lists of tasks completed by my classmates while i was attending "Fun Night" at the kids' elementary school, and helping J with her latest school project, due next Weds., but creating stress now.
9:30 a.m.: Watch video about the torture that will be the MBE Exam.
10:00 a.m.: Think, "Oh my God, I cannot listen to Professor [??] Kaufman talk about Agency and Partnership for more than 3 minutes, b/c his voice and mannerisms are going to make my brain detach from my spinal cord ... or something.
10:10 a.m.: Find myself laughing at Professor Kaufman, and realize that his "performance" is clearly calculated to create triggers in our pathetic brains.
1:10 p.m.: Run out of class to the T station where I am forced to wait until
1:30 p.m.: Get on Train
1:50 p.m.: Arrive in parking garage where zipcar is parked; freak out because parking pass thingy is not in car where it's supposed to be, and I cannot get out of the garage b/c I don't have an entry ticket, b/c I came on foot, and paying for parking without an entry ticket will likely cost upwards of $400 [the monthly fee].
1:52 p.m.: Call Zipcar and think about how utterly helpless they are, try to remember how helpful they were on Monday, wonder why they say, "well, if no one there can help you, call us back" - why? Why not just do whatever it is you would do if I called you back NOW??
1:53 p.m.: Leave garage after pushing "help" button and asking the man to lift the gate. [yeah, that was hard. I'm a dork. As we all know.]
2:03 p.m.: Arrive at public library, 30 feet from elementary school, figure out how to put top down on the Mini named Mim; realize it's too fucking hot for the top to be down, and that I wasted $2/hour on a fancy-pants car when all I really want is a/c.
2:04 p.m.: See E, call her to the car.
2:07 p.m.: Get home, call store to see if shirts are in; make list of items to purchase for tomorrow's bday party.
2:14 p.m.: Leave house.
2:30 p.m.: Arrive at Target, realizing that I have eaten nothing but 2 golf-ball sized nectarines and 20 cherries all day. Realize that I have a headache. Realize that I may pass out.
2:45 p.m. Call other mom who's doing this bday party; run choices by her; get new assignments of things to purchase.
2:55 p.m.: Tell E "sure, go ahead and grab a bag of Peanut M&M's"
3:15 p.m.: Get back in car, having all necessary items (except plain M&Ms, meant for the party, but Target ran out, b/c M&Ms were "buy one get one free"), decide to take E to an art store to get a bday gift for her friend's party which is on Sunday, and to stop at Starbucks for a caffeine-free Frappucino for her, and a venti icey non-fat sugar-less coffee for me.
3:25 p.m.: Realize that I'd eaten entirely too many peanut M&Ms.
3:45 p.m.: Feel a sense of pride at speedy errands as I checked out at the art store and wondered if there's still time for a Stop & Shop run to get ingredients for cookies which I Promised 9 year old's I'd make with them tonight during sleep over extravaganza.
4:15 p.m.: Arrive at home; drop off Target bags and E; look up cookie recipes; make list.
4:30 p.m.: Drop off Zipcar; walk to Stop & Shop; call dr.'s office on the way to make appointments for girls' annual physicals.
4:50 p.m.: Call E, tell her I'm on my way home, and that she needs to do her cello practice; clean her room, and pack her overnight bag so I can drop her off at her friend's house on my way to meet J at soccer where J will be dropped off after acting class, because I need to bring J her cleats, etc.
4:53 p.m.: Receive phone call from E's friend's mom [potential new friend] who wants to "stop by" b/c she's driving past the house and she'll just wait for E while E packs bag. I freak out, tell Potential New Friend that my home is not fit for Human Viewing, and that she cannot come to my house, that I will bring E to her .... later. Potential New Friend informs me that i am, in fact, a freak, and now she wants to be my friend even more. he he he.
5:00 p.m.: Arrive home, scurry around the house picking up, putting away eggs [yes, in that order], coaching E through cello practice; making phone calls re: thunder and lightning and their potential effect on soccer practice and alternate plans for J, who can't be dropped off at home while I'm dropping off E.
5:20 p.m.: Leave house with E.
5:30 p.m.: Arrive at Potential New Friend's House. She pours me a glass of wine. I sit. After sitting for literally 4 minutes, cell phone rings with Alternate Plan Mom [also co-bday party mom] saying, "Can I bring the 9 year olds to your house now?" I somehow put her off for "ten minutes"
5:45 p.m.: Finally leave New Friend's house; practically jog (still in pretty new smaller skirt) to my own house, calling Other Mom saying, "okay!! Bring them over now!" Just hoping that I'll get there before her so I don't have to tell her that I chose to sit and have a glass of wine instead of meeting her at my house 15 minutes ago.
6:00 p.m.: 9 year olds get dropped off. I clean a little, e-mail a little, sweat a little, smell a little cigarette smoke, usher 9 year olds and their damned recorders into the bedroom and close the door, and eventually kick them outside once thunder and lightning are gone and sun is back so they can kick the soccer ball.
6:15 p.m. I write this post.

I still have to do a lot. Beloved's at the store (after work) getting stuff for veggie nachos (veggie in honor of our Kosher 9 year old friend, b/c she can't have the meat and cheese together, and I'd rather give up the meat than the cheese ... although I'd also like meat. I guess Beloved could have cooked it up separate, and just sprinkled it on MY nachos. Damn. I wonder if he'll think of that? This is the kind of thing that he always thinks of. I sit here thinking, "oh, too bad I didn't tell him that," and then he comes home with the same thing in mind, and I gush over how wonderful he is, and how we were clearly made for each other, and that he is truly my soul mate, b/c he read my mind, and made my life perfect.)

I have to make cookies. And I have to make a play list. And I wish I saved this cute new skirt for tomorrow at the party ... but I did not.

Uh, Blogger's having an outage in 2 minutes. I better publish this, and go clean more.

Labels: *E*, *J*, bar exam, bar prep, beloved, birthdays, chaos, friends, housework, parenting, rain, soccer, studies, weather, weekends, whining, zipcar, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 6:26 PM 3 comments

Monday, May 28, 2007

Zuska the Dork, v2

Last week I shared a story of me being a dork. Today is the second installment.

We went to the beach. We had fun. We took the zipcar. When we got to the beach, I locked the car, using the handy-dandy zipcard. You need to scan the card on a card reader on the car in order to lock and unlock the car. The car key - the normal kind which goes inside the ignition - is always IN the car. It's not how you lock the doors. I was nervous this weekend at my parents' house, b/c I washed my zipcard. I left it in my shorts pocket, and then threw my shorts into the washer at the end of the day, and the card got washed. I'm certain this was at least the second time, but I was still relieved when the card worked afterward.

So, the beach we went to was a little weird. We'd never been to this one before. It has a shelf which extends pretty far out. When we arrived, it was low tide, and the water was soooo far out from the high tide line, it was strange. We set up our chairs and blankets relatively far down the beach, but still were far from the water. Too far to let the girls run off on their own. So I went with them. I had my shorts on, and didn't see the point in taking them off, because even people who were 1/4 mile out were only submerged to their knees. So we went frolicking.

Eventually, the water got deep enough that it was threatening to wet my shorts. I hopped up on a sandbar and took the shorts off, and just laid them across my shoulder, trying to be careful not to lose my Burt's Bees lip balm out of the pocket. We spent a good bit of time in the water, and then went back to Beloved (who was guarding our stuff on the beach), and he and I switched positions - I sat guarding and reading, and he went into the water with the kids.

While we were sitting there, I thought, "where did I put the zipcard?" I checked my purse. No. I checked the food bag. No. I checked the beach bag. No. I checked my shorts pocket. No. I thought, "well, when we were leaving the car, and J had to pee, I probably just handed it to Beloved." I looked in his wallet. No. I checked the pockets of his bag. No. Shit.

I tried to forget about it, and just read my book until Beloved and the girls returned, but I was too preoccupied. I went and met them (1/2 a mile toward the ocean, it felt like), and asked him, "do you have the Zipcard?" No.

I called Zipcar, and said, "Um, hi. I'm in the middle of a reservation, and we used the car to go to the beach, and I lost my card in the ocean." Because I must have put it in my butt pocket, as per usual, and not noticed when it fell out as I flung my shorts over my shoulder.

FORTUNATELY, Zipcar was able to remotely open the car, and then switch the reservation over to Beloved's card (which was in his wallet).

And also FORTUNATELY, Beloved didn't berate me once. He wasn't agitated or frustrated in the slightest. He just sort of sat there chatting with the girls while I called Zipcar, and then 1/2 chuckled out me as he was getting into the car. That's it. Even though this is a habit of mine that he hates with a passion.

And our afternoon continued to be fantastic. We always have great car rides. I love driving with him, and with the girls. J dozed after the frolicking, and E was listening to a book on tape. Beloved and I listened to The Black Crowes and talked about whether or not we could get a beach house over in this part of the state. Just a bare hour away from the city, but remote and beautiful. Seems like a good place for a second home. Too bad it costs so damned much. I think we'll keep looking at Vermont at first.

Labels: beach, kids, weekends, zipcar, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 7:55 PM 0 comments

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