the eighteenth of april, a tuesday


First things first. Rob Rummel-Hudson is not a chucklehead.

This is mostly because when I wrote to ask him to change the link in his entry to my new site, he did, like almost immediately.

And then he said nice things about my picture.

And then he pointed out that my link to him was wrong.

So he's back to being... well, whatever the opposite of chucklehead is. That's Rob.


I woke up Sunday morning at Colleen's with a strange malady indeed. I had a swollen uvula.

Oh, pipe down. It's the thing that hangs down in the back of your throat.

Now, my uvula is freakish to begin with. There's a small disc of tissue that hangs off of it. It's been there all my life, and when my mother asked my pediatrician about it, he said, "If it doesn't bother her, it doesn't bother me."

And it never has bothered me, until I woke up Sunday morning, and the whole thing was probaby twice its normal size. It was really bizarre. My mother insisted I was allergic to something I had smelled at Demeter, but honestly, when in your life have you had an allergy that caused your uvula to swell? Never.

It got better throughout the day, and by this morning everything was back to normal, as normal as it gets where my uvula is concerned.

This stuff couldn't happen to anyone but me.


I spoke to my old boss today, the one from Los Angeles, the one whose brother is Gwyneth Paltrow's agent. (Six degrees, people. Not that I ever met her. I never even met my boss's brother, although he was always nice to me on the phone and sent me cool CAA Christmas presents.)

I really just wanted to confirm his address and phone number for my bar application, plus let him know that his name was going on my resume as a reference, and he will probably (hopefully) get some calls over the summer. But I also thought he'd be interested in the fact that I was about to graduate.

It was a nice conversation. I haven't spoken to him in at least a year, so we caught up about his family, my family, my plans, what kind of work I was looking for, blah blah blah. It was very nice, how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. I do want to keep in touch with him, as I know for a fact he is the best boss I will ever have.


I got the strangest e-mail yesterday from my mother's best friend, a woman who lives in Kansas City. She's coming out for my graduation, and she e-mailed me to see if I would be interested in having her ride back with me when I moved.

Uh, no.

First of all, I'm caravaning with a friend of mine and his fiancee, who are moving to Denver. Secondly, I have to leave the day after graduation, and I think she wants to stay around here longer than that.

Thirdly, I don't want to road trip with a sixty-year-old woman who is not my mother.

I mean, she's a very cool person. She and my mother went to nursing school together 40 years ago. We had lunch together when I was in KC over New Year's, and we gabbed for two solid hours. She's very funny and nice, and would always be willing to help me out if I had a problem I couldn't go to my parents with.

But it doesn't mean I want to be in a car with her for two straight days. There are very few people I want to be in a car with for two straight days. I drove out here from California all by myself, and I loved it. Caravaning with my friends will be plenty of company for me.


They're having a Dean's Tea this afternoon for all the moot court teams. A Dean's Tea is this thing where they set up a table in the foyer with cookies and tea and all the professors come and you can stand around and talk to them like normal people instead of professors, and there's usually some kind of award ceremony or whatever, and today they're having one for us.

Now, there are a few stubborn members of my team who I know won't be coming to it, because they're pissed off about the complete lack of recognition we got when we were in the competition, and when one of our teams won the damn thing. I was mad too, but I've come to realize that that's just the way things work around here, so I will be going.

Besides, I have a feeling they're going to say something about me and the first year trial competition that I coordinated all by myself, and dammit, I want the recognition. I didn't do that out of the goodness of my heart, I did it is a favor, so I'm not going to be this martyr and say oh, no, it's okay, I didn't mind it, you don't have to thank me.

Yeah, you do. I worked my ass off putting that thing together. Someone needs to thank me, for once.

Now, knowing my karma, the simple fact that I admitted I want the recognition will probably cause them to blow me off completely at this tea. Story of my life.


Whine, whine, whine, blah blah blah. How about I tell you what was in my fortune cookie Friday night at Colleen's?

"Passionate new romance appears in your life when you least expect it."
Hoo, boy. I hope I'm not forty by the time I least expect it.

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