Author Archives: Chrissie

Watch Your Seat

Pretty much once a day I turn to Kevin and ask him, “How could someone not love this dog?!?!”

We got the girls because my friend was having a difficult pregnancy and her doctor recommended a cat hair free environment. She was heart broken and only agreed to part with the girls with the greatest of reluctance.

But Artie was given up because someone didn’t want him. How is this possible? How could you not love this dog? Even more baffling, how could be so cruel that you’d hit him in anger?

His latest thing is he’s turned into a real sneaky seat stealer. You’ll be lounging on the sofa, watching TV or reading a book, and decide to get a refill on your coffee or the phone rings and when you get back, there’s this big fat dog curled up on your spot. Lately, he’s gotten even more daring. If you stand up for even a moment to get the remote or pick up a magazine, in the .2 seconds your rump is off the sofa, he’ll scooch right in there and settle down like he’s been sleeping there for hours. I’ve tried sitting on him but he really doesn’t mind. Call or start tugging on his collar and I swear he’ll start to fake sleeping and even throw in a few snores as if to convince you that he’s fallen into slumber. Like that’ll fool you or something. The only way to reclaim your seat is to go into the kitchen and start crinkling food wrappings. He’ll suddenly “wake up” and come running into the kitchen. Of course, once he realizes it’s merely a rouse, the race is on and we both dash back toward the couch. He’s usually faster than me but he’s lower to the ground and has those extra legs so it’s not really a fair race.

They say you can find anything on Google so I decided to run a search for Artie. I was bored and just fooling around. I never excepted to find anything but, well, try it for yourself.

Run Artie + Oregon + catahoula. (That’s his “I’m-really-wierded-out-by-what-you-are-doing-please-stop-it” look.)

The sad part is, if you tried Christine + McLaughlin + Oregon, I’m not found. I’ve been surpassed by my dog. Guess I better get used to sitting on the floor for a while.

Butterflies

What If

He gave her butterflies.

She wasn’t sure why but there was something about the way he smiled at her that made her heart go wild. Of course, she smiled back and did her best to cover up the pounding in her chest but she didn’t know what came next. She thought she gave all the right signs. She laughed at his jokes, made sure they ended up sitting near each other during class assembly, and spent most of study hall sneaking notes to her girlfriends with doodled hearts and swirly initials hoping her secret would make its way to his ears. Still, he did nothing.

Emboldened by her friends, she grabbed his hand at lunch and drew a happy face on it, elaborating on the basic design, adding eyebrows, ears and dimples to prolong the thrill of holding his hand. Embarrassed at the intimacy of her act, even if the pretense was innocent, she was too flustered to notice his reaction. This action was brandied about by her group for the next class period, each girl weighing in with her opinion. The general consensus was it was a very daring move and if he didn’t respond then he definitely wasn’t interested.

Lunch came and she made a point of sitting by herself near his locker but he didn’t notice her. During P.E., she saw him talking to Julie and watched in horror as they walked off the field together laughing. Mortified and unable to face her friends who had witnessed this atrocity, she fled to her locker and grabbed her books. In her haste, she never noticed the note that was wedged through the door crack.

Ending #1
It fell to the floor to be swept up by the night janitor and she never knew.

He spent the next day waiting for a reply and was puzzled when she didn’t laugh at his jokes. When assembly was called, he headed toward her only to notice that her girlfriends had filled all the seats around her, forming a wall of protection.

After the assembly, he headed for the bathroom to wash off the happy face he had so carefully preserved on his hand. And he never knew.

Ending #2
She didn’t find the note until she opened her binder to start her math homework and it fell into her lap. It was filled with jokes and rambling which said nothing but meant everything. She spent the rest of the night calling friends and practicing her dream name over and over again in her best handwriting. Mrs. Mary Lawerance

At assembly, the butterflies returned and made her chest shake when he sat next to her. When he reached to hold her hand, all she could focus on was that silly face so carefully preserved on the back of his. Part of her heard her friends begin to whisper but the rest of her was smiling so hard it hurt.

Cynic

I’ve become a horrible cynic.

Alright, I’ve never been much of an optimism. I like to think of myself as a firmly grounded realist. Some misguided souls have even accused me wandering into the territory of pessimism but I don’t pay them much mind. But last night, I realized that I’ve been in the Real World too long. I’ve lost the idealism of youth and taken on the jaded tinge of a working woman.

You see, last night I went back to the law school to conduct mock interviews. The first year students are ready to be plucked from the classroom and trundled off to the law firms for their first summer employment. For many, this is will be their first contact with the real world of the law so our Career Services department hosts mock interviews. The students are taped and alumni come and give them a taste of what to expect. We pitch out the usual hard balls, what are your grades, what is your ranking, why are you so low in your class, why should I hire you, you don’t seem to have much experience, etc, etc, etc. After a 20 minute interview, you then discuss what they did right or wrong, how to improve their pitch, what to play up and what to brush over. I remember doing this same thing myself eons ago but this time, I was the one asking the questions instead of the one trying to explain away the C+ I received in Torts.

There is nothing so sweet as a First Year Law Student. They are so….. unprepared.

“So why did you decided to go to law school?” the jaded employer asks.

“I really want to help people. I want to advocate and held someone through their problem. You know? I get really involved and determined and I want to feel like I’m helping people.”

“So what do you like about the law so far?” the jaded employer asks.

“I really like being challenged intellectually. Taking about the issues and discussing why a Supreme Court justice ruled that way is just really interesting. I want a job that will continue to challenge and stimulate me intellectually.”

“And what type of experience are you hoping to gain as a law clerk?” the jaded employer asks.

“I really want to work in an office where we can discuss the issues of a case and do brainstorming and look over the big picture. I want to, you know, be in the conversations and discussions about strategy and stuff. I think I’d really like the mental challenge of planning a case.”

All I could do was sit there and try to look professional. How do I tell them the sad reality of being a law clerk? You don’t get to pick your client. The partners pick then and you have to fight for them even when you don’t like what they’ve done or what they are trying to do. Heck, as a law clerk, your lucky if you ever even see the client. And intellectual challenge? Um, right. How does spending 40 hours holed up in the library or on the computer researching some obscure area of law about whether or not your client’s mother can bring her dog to a hotel because her therapist says it helps her anxiety. Does that qualify as a disability or not? Yeah, those are real big personal rights issues you’ll be playing with. I’m sure the semester your spent discussing Justice O’Conner’s take on the 7th Amendment will play right in there. And discussing a case? Maybe in some big swanky firm there are tons of clerks running around. Anywhere else, you’re lucky to even know the clerk’s name. Brainstorming with someone with one year of book learning on a real case? Not gonna happen.

The really sad part is, I used those exact same answers back in the day. And then reality hits you full on and you get knocked flat on your back and you either stagger to your feet and look for a way to carry on without getting slammed again or you just lie there and moan until the student loan people come looking for you.

The Pooka Life

And the winner is…..

Before I get there, let me just say that I now understand why, on the back of every game piece, you’ll find a page of rules printed in fine print. This is because people are sneaky. In this instance, one particular person was sneaky. I took down the link to the Archives page but if you had the determination (and time) you could still manually enter the URL and by adding seven days to each entry, you had access to each and every page of Archives. I must admit that there was no rule saying you couldn’t do this. So I’ve decided to award two winners.

And the winner of the quiz who only used his/her memory is…… stalker Kathy! Yes, that’s right, my blog buddy Kathy (who is also my hero for actually going through with LASIK and is now living contact free) came up with the most correct answers. Kathy, watch your mailbox with your now perfect vision. You’re prize is on the way!

And the winner of the quiz who managed to crack into my archives and re-read each entry to find the correct answer is…. hacker Mikey! (We’re not actually surprised here, are we?) Yes Mike, since you took the time and effort to manually access each and every archive link, and yes, there was no rule saying you couldn’t, your perfect score nets you a prize as well. I’ll be sending it to you via email as an attachment. It’s called “naked pictures of Anna Kornacovic” – just click on the .exe file to reveal your prize! (Just kidding, yours is in the mail as well!)

Surprisingly enough, the one question that was consistently answered correctly was #4 about the Facts of Life marathon. I think this means that all of you were also watching that weekend. Don’t try and deny it.

(The correct answers can be found below.)

The Pooka Life

In a futile effort to avoid the laundry, I worked on Little D’s webpage last night. It’s just the skeleton right now but consider it a work in progress.

Also, the winner of The Quiz will be announced tomorrow so cast your votes now. So far, no one has scored 100% so the prize is still up in the air…..

Charlie

Every since little Daniel slipped into the Terry/Walls family, I have found myself wanting something new myself. Kevin has been around for the last ten years and Artie and the girls are all pushing middle age in pet years. It’s hard knowing there’s this new little thing way down south and everyone but me is pinching and hugging his soft little cheeks. I have to make do with some pictures and email updates. Kissing a furry dog head or stubbily husband cheek is not the same but it’s all I got.

I’d get a baby myself if I could sell it on ebay or dump it off at Goodwill once the novelty wore off as I do with most of the results of my strange binges. Fortunately, there are laws against selling/abandoning small children so that pretty much rules out the kid option for me. Kevin has put his foot down on another dog/cat so my options seem to be limited here.

And so, last night, I had a good long talk with myself and I can to the conclusion that I’m ready for another fish.

Oh, didn’t I tell you about my last fish owning experience? It ended in tears and flushing and I cleaned out the tank and trundled the fake plants, colored rock, and heater into the basement to wait until my heart mended.

You see, I had an awesome fish. His name was Bosley and he was a blue beta. When I first bought him, he lived in a very small glass bowl with colored rocks and a single fake plant – no filter, no heater, no bubbly water. He was the Rambo of fish. I would clean his tank only when I could no longer see through the glass. The kitties decided that his bowl was their water dish (I think they liked the fishy taste) so every day they would jump up on the shelf and start drinking away. Good old Bosley would swim under his little plastic plant and stay very very still until the cat left. He was smart that Bosley. He lived for years in his moldly little bowl. Sometimes he’d get feed every day, sometime I’d forget or go out of town for a week but he’d be there, fighting mad when I got back.

After he’d proven his worth, I upgraded to a bigger tank with more rocks and plants and even a few other fish for him to boss about. It was great. Everything was going gang busters until one day I came downstairs and found all three little fishes floating belly up. (Actually, I only found two of the fish and baby Wicks sitting next to the tank, smacking her lips, with her paw in the water trying to fish out the other two floaters.) Bosley wasn’t looking too good either but he hung on for another day fighting valiantly but alas, it was in vain. I watched with my heart in my throat as he’d slowly turn sideways and float to the top of the tank and then rally and swim back to the bottom only to capsize and float to the top. He did this for a whole day and night before his little scaly body finally gave out.

One fish version of the black plague had inflicted my house and in the span of two days, they were all dead. (I secretly blame Josh for this but he adamantly denies all responsibility. I haven’t been able yet to prove his guilt but I’m still watching and waiting for him to slip up and admit his hand in the death of Bosley.)

But it has been a year since the 5 flush salute and I think it might be time for a new beta. I’m thinking of calling him Charlie. I wonder if he’d let me kiss him?