My Country Western Song Life

So here I am, deep in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, having just finished a passable meat and potatoes dinner at a national chain, sitting in my rental Chevy SUV in the parking lot, listening to my son practice piano on my cellphone, missing him desperately.

So when I went to create this blog entry, I hadn't realized quite how much time had passed since my last entry. Ironic. It was June. I was counting down to the end of my long commute, fantasizing about the time I would have to be with my family, my neighbors, to enjoy summer in my neighborhood.

A week later, we learned that the back pain that had been plaguing JR's dad was so much worse than that. Our life has been turned upside down. We've moved from our beloved neighborhood and comfortable house to a spacious apartment with a view in a building with an elevator, doorman and all sorts of amenities. We live in a world of doctor's appointments, physical therapists, occupational therapists, visiting nurses, medical supplies, pharmaceuticals.

We have been the beneficiaries of amazing acts of generosity from our family, friends and neighbors, far and wide. We are surrounded by love.

So who wants to draft the lyrics?

That Litigation Rush

When I was a relatively new attorney, I was assigned to assist one of the senior attorneys on a case that turned into a huge trial. The trial itself took 8 weeks, during which the other attorney and I set up camp in Pittsburgh. The area of law we were trying to enforce was new, the stakes were high, the opposing side's client was a colorful character (to be nice). I had my first experience presenting an expert witness. Posthearing briefs were extensive. All in all, it was one of those career experiences that results in lots of great war stories. The case whetted my love for trial work.
Maybe a year after the trial, we got a decision that was mostly favorable. The judge affirmed the critical issues and, while he cut the penalty my government agency client was trying to assess, it was still a record-breaking huge penalty. The other side, of course, appealed. And the case sat.
I tried other big cases. I moved into management. I left the agency completely and started my new life last year on the bench.
Yesterday, a mere 15 years later, the decision on the appeal was issued. Again, a mostly favorable decision (although they cut the penalty, again). My case was even used to overturn a decision made in another case in the intervening years that (IMHO) made for bad law.
And all the memories came back to me, along with the adrenaline rush. It's been a few hours, but I am still just thrilled and excited and in that "I want to shout my news from the rooftops" mode. I'm almost as excited as I was when the Phillies won the World Series.

Spring Fever

If the day should ever come when I'm no longer waking at 4:00 a.m. to start my 2-1/2 hour commute, I hope I will be able to hold on to Thursday's lunch hour as a memory of the good parts of working in NYC. Lately, I've been feeling so oppressed by this city - the crowds, the greyness, the expense, the cold wind whipping down the streets in my section of lower Manhattan, the dirt on the streets, my workload, the exercise of sheer will it takes to get me out of my bed at 4:00 a.m. and into a cab hurtling through the darkened streets of Philadelphia to make my predawn train to work. As I've said to some of my friends, I get all the downside of NYC and none of the good parts. My crazed schedule and my daunting workload have not allowed me the time to enjoy what the city has to offer.
But on Thursday I allowed myself to escape during lunch. It was an early spring day - the kind of day when people take to the streets, the parkbenches are loaded down with quickly discarded coats and jackets, little bits of green start poking out of the ground and the budding trees. I walked into Chinatown. I watched the kids at the playground. I stopped in a tiny restaurant for some Vietnamese bun. I jostled among the crowds on Canal St. I returned to my office feeling just a tiny bit lightened.
Here's to spring in New York City.

Leaving the Office for Lunch

In this new job I tend to work through lunch, eating at my desk, or if I've spent the day in hearings, not eating at all. In part, this is because I no longer have the office lunch buddies that I had in my old job, and in part, it's because the learning curve here is steep and the workload daunting.
But today, having spent a productive morning and still in the glow of having my team win the first game of the World Series, I decided to take a walk at lunch. So I wandered to the other side of Chinatown and found a cozy French cafe where I had a delicious veggie omelet and mixed greens, and irresistible fries while I read my book. Walking back, at the intersection of Centre and Canal, I saw a gentleman blowing bubbles. He had one of those plastic machines that shoots a steady stream of bubbles. He wasn't promoting a store or anything. Just blowing bubbles. Making people smile. On the other side of the street, as I crossed, there was another man, more disheveled, standing in the city trash can. Just standing there. No one smiling. Happy. Sad. New York - the perfect microcosm.

I think I need to get out more.

Time Warp

Last night I arrived at the month long training school for my new job. Given that I am trying to train my body clock to wake earlier so that I can deal with the new ridiculously long commute, and the fact that every time I've had to be away from home for any extended period working and eating hotel and restaurant food, I've gained weight, I decided to put myself on an early morning exercise routine.

So last night I set the alarm for 5:20 a.m. I dutifully got up when the alarm went off and took myself down to the empty fitness room and spent 1/2 hour on the treadmill, feeling quite virtuous. The TV options were terrible, though, and the clock on the wall of the empty fitness room suggested that it was not quite 4:00. "Hm mm," I thought to myself, "I wonder why the hotel hasn't fixed the clock in this room.

On returning to my hotel room, with the sky still quite dark outside, I checked my cellphone, which, to my surprise, agreed with the fitness room clock.

Yes, it was 4:00 a.m. The alarm clock is set 2 hours ahead, and I had just gotten up at 3:30 a.m. and spent half an hour exercising in the middle of the night.

Having exercised for a half hour, wearing sweaty fitness clothes, I did not find it easy (or even possible) to go back to sleep.

During ice breaker introductions at class this morning, people are apologizing for being tired due to jet lag from the West Coast, or having been subjected to cancelled flights and lost baggage on their journey here from the hinterland. Two guys confessed to having been up late watching "Old School" on TV. And here I am, looking for the toothpicks to hold open my eyes, because I was on a TREADMILL at 3:30 a.m.! Yeah, right.