tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66867431404289540342024-03-13T00:38:12.540-04:00Past the BarNow what?KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.comBlogger162125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-34222990245701939652008-12-21T00:11:00.002-05:002008-12-21T00:29:31.441-05:00Hi and byeSo.<br /><br />It's been a while. I have a bunch of excuses, and some of them are even legitimate, but the truth of the matter is, I gave up. Somewhere around Thanksgiving I just lost my motivation. Lucky for me, however, the Captain came up with a great new idea so I have yet another - yes ANOTHER - blog to write in. Lucky for you, I've already introduced the url before, so you don't have to go anywhere new. <br /><br />Here's the deal: I'm moving to San Diego after the New Year, the Captain is not, and that is general downer. As a way of an upper, we're making a joint blog at http://fortunesfeast.wordpress.com, where we'll blog about books and recipes that we would have shared with each other were we, you know, still living together. Since I'll be spending the holidays with him I don't expect the updates to be all that frequent in the next couple days, but once the new year rolls around, expect of lot of word and food. We've already selected our first "book club" selection, but for that, you'll have to go on over. <br /><br />And with that, I bid you farewell.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-81258656406503452292008-12-07T11:57:00.003-05:002008-12-08T16:52:50.991-05:00More geniusThe Captain's modest proposal.<br /><br /><a href="http://toobig2fail.blogspot.com/2008/12/auto-bailout-christmas-carol-edition.html">http://toobig2fail.blogspot.com/2008/12/auto-bailout-christmas-carol-edition.html<br /></a><br />I find him wickedly clever, and not just because I love him. It's more the other way around, actually.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-67230514102454096302008-12-01T22:10:00.004-05:002008-12-02T10:17:48.897-05:00Yuletide CarolNow that the turkey's been eaten, I've been singing nonstop to get ready for Christmas. The Captain and I are hosting a Christmas party so I've been learning some very basic carols on the guitar for everyone to sing. I know only four chords, but apparently that's all I need to know.<br /><br />As I was "practicing" this evening the Captain said to me he was surprised he hadn't heard me sing more often in law school. I gave him a knowing look and laughed at the thought. He replied, "So you're saying law school took the song in your soul and stomped on it?"<br /><br />Precisely.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-70042179325675634432008-11-30T12:46:00.006-05:002008-11-30T13:21:46.429-05:00Thinking too muchToday at church I had a revelation. Not the kind you're thinking of.<br /><br />No, my revelation was much more mundane than the kind of epiphany you'd expect during Advent. It came as I was listening to the choir and thinking for 199th time that I ought to join the choir. Midway through that 199th thought it occurred to me: if I join the choir, then I have to go to worship <span style="font-style: italic;">every single Sunday</span>. That could be a problem. As much as I love church, I can't make that commitment.<br /><br />So that got me thinking even further: I should have just signed up and been done with it. Everything I have done of which I am proud I have done without thinking. At age six I signed up for violin lessons because I wanted to be like my cousin. At age sixteen I applied to Brown because, well, it was there. At age nineteen I founded a campus chapter of Habitat for Humanity because I felt like it. Also at age nineteen I volunteered to be a resident counselor, which any former resident advisor knows is definitely not a rational decision. And at age twenty-five I matriculated at Boston College Law School because there was just something about it that made it different from anywhere else. So I got to meet the Captain and all my other cherished lawyer friends, as well as pass the bar. I did all these without too much thinking, and there's got to be something to that. All my thinking today just led to my not doing something, rather than forging ahead.<br /><br />Maybe I'm just getting old.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-19749359302436222982008-11-30T01:33:00.007-05:002008-11-30T14:26:57.728-05:00Mindless diversionSo...Jenski had this going on at her blog, and since I'm usually a sucker for this sort of thing, I'll do it, too. I don't know who came up with these ninety-nine items, but they're neat in their variety and it's cool to see just how much you and your friends have done. Items I have accomplished are italicized in bold, with notes below.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">1. Started your own blog</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">2. Slept under the stars</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">3. Played in a band</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">4. Visited Hawaii</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">5. Watched a meteor shower</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">6. Given more than you can afford to charity</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">7. Been to Disneyland/world</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">8. Climbed a mountain</span><br />9. Held a praying mantis<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">10. Sang a solo</span><br />11. Bungee jumped<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">12. Visited Paris</span><br />13. Watched a lightning storm at sea<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">14. Taught yourself an art from scratch</span><br />15. Adopted a child<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">16. Had food poisoning</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty</span><br />18. Grown your own vegetables<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">20. Slept on an overnight train</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">21. Had a pillow fight</span><br />22. Hitch hiked<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">24. Built a snow fort</span><br />25. Held a lamb<span class="fullpost"><br />26. Gone skinny dipping<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">27. Run a Marathon</span><br />28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">29. Seen a total eclipse</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">30. Watched a sunrise or sunset</span><br />31. Hit a home run<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">32. Been on a cruise</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">33. Seen Niagara Falls in person</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors</span><br />35. Seen an Amish community<br />36. Taught yourself a new language<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied</span><br />38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person<br />39. Gone rock climbing<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">40. Seen Michelangelo’s David</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">41. Sung karaoke</span><br />42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt<br />43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant<br />44. Visited Africa<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">45. Walked on a beach by moonlight</span><br />46. Been transported in an ambulance<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">47. Had your portrait painted</span><br />48. Gone deep sea fishing<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">52. Kissed in the rain</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">53. Played in the mud</span><br />54. Gone to a drive-in theater<br />55. Been in a movie<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">56. Visited the Great Wall of China</span><br />57. Started a business<br />58. Taken a martial arts class<br />59. Visited Russia<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">60. Served at a soup kitchen</span><br />61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">62. Gone whale watching</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">63. Got flowers for no reason</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma</span><br />65. Gone sky diving<br />66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp<br />67. Bounced a check<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">68. Flown in a helicopter</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">69. Saved a favorite childhood toy</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">71. Eaten Caviar</span><br />72. Pieced a quilt<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">73. Stood in Times Square</span><br />74. Toured the Everglades<br />75. Been fired from a job<br />76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London<br />77. Broken a bone<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">78. Been on a speeding motorcycle</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person</span><br />80. Published a book<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">81. Visited the Vatican</span><br />82. Bought a brand new car<br />83. Walked in Jerusalem<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">84. Had your picture in the newspaper</span><br />85. Read the entire Bible<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">86. Visited the White House</span><br />87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">88. Had chickenpox</span><br />89. Saved someone’s life<br />90. Sat on a jury<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">91. Met someone famous</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">92. Joined a book club</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">93. Lost a loved one</span><br />94. Had a baby<br />95. Seen the Alamo in person<br />96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">97. Been involved in a law suit</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">98. Owned a cell phone</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">99. Been stung by a bee<br /><br /></span>The only note I feel is worth making is 97. I myself never have been party to a lawsuit, but since I've worked on a few, I think that counts as being involved.<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-15193618328536729562008-11-29T11:05:00.003-05:002008-11-29T11:25:53.010-05:00License to idiocyIn the week that has followed my Very Best Day (So Far), I've been reminded that just because I'm a lawyer doesn't mean I'm not an idiot. To wit, the day immediately after the Very Best Day (So Far), the Captain and I boarded a bus to Charlottesville, where Mr. and Mrs. Priest hosted us in their lovely home. Before the Captain and I could board the bus, however, we had to locate the bus station. This proved to be a challenge for this newly minted California attorney. Who knew that in Washington, the bus station isn't the same as the train station? <br /><br />Then later that week, the Captain and I decided to indulge ourselves with a truly expensive - and sumptuous - meal at the Blue Duck Tavern. The restaurant's unfortunate name notwithstanding, the experience was superb.[FN1] Truly exquisite. But, again, we had to find the tavern before we could eat there, and that also proved difficult for me. It didn't help that the restaurant's website said "24th and M"as its address, but still, I could have done a little research.<br /><br />Perhaps I'll chalk it all up to a residual euphoria after the Very Best Day (So Far).<br /><br />------<br />FN1. It is an odd coincidence that in the Captain's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lonesome-Dove-Novel/dp/068487122X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1227975839&sr=1-1">favorite book</a> (and I mean FAVORITE book), the villain's name is Blue Duck. And for those of you familiar with Larry McMurtry, you know that Blue Duck is one dastardly dude.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-56520450898306987792008-11-21T21:55:00.001-05:002008-11-21T21:55:34.131-05:00Passed.Giddy-up.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-79268413430273366712008-11-21T11:14:00.003-05:002008-11-21T11:22:19.851-05:00Low-grade feverYIKES.<br /><br />Earlier in the week I told the Captain I'd need to occupy myself - heavily - the day the bar results came out so I wouldn't be a complete wreck. He thought that was a good idea, so in a little bit we're headed out to the National Portrait Gallery and the Air & Space Museum. As much as I love <a href="http://www.npg.si.edu/exhibit/colbert.htm">renegade portraits of Stephen Colbert</a>, however, it doesn't eliminate the fact that I've had a chronic, low-grade anxiety all week. I didn't realize it at first, but sometime on Wednesday I noticed that my neck was stiff and sore. Since I haven't been hunched over a book for nearly four months, I knew something was up. Then I noticed yesterday some other bodily manifestations of anxiety, and I figured it out: I'm freaking out. November 21 has been burned into my mind for the last several months, and it's finally here. At the moment I'm sitting in a cafe trying to upload some videos of the Genius' choir concert two nights ago, and I'm so wigged out I don't even care that everyone around me can 1) see I am blogging, and 2) read what I'm blogging.<br /><br />YIKES.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-90131206065912879302008-11-20T11:03:00.002-05:002008-11-20T11:14:41.386-05:00T minus one dayThe Captain: What should we have for dinner tomorrow night? Chop SUEy?KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-56787660736111692162008-11-18T17:02:00.006-05:002008-11-21T10:52:24.638-05:00Honest livingA few short hours from now, the Captain and I will be enjoying Bizet at the Kennedy Center. We're going to <span style="font-style: italic;">Carmen</span> at the National Opera and I cannot wait. I bought the tickets months ago and the performance is finally here.<br /><br />But this is not another post about how I am so very much a liberal cliche.<br /><br />It is, instead, a reflection on my experiences at the bakery. It is a composite sketch of how I have begun to understand what Sarah Palin getting at when she was jeering us in the fake America. Seriously. I've been wanting to write this post for a while, ever since I served coffee to a classmate of mine from Brown a few weeks ago, but I haven't been able to because, well, I was working.<br /><br />So yes, several weeks ago a woman from my class at Brown walked into the bakery and ordered a coffee. She recognized me immediately so I reintroduced myself and said hello. We then had a painfully polite exchange about what we had been up to since college. I told her I'd just graduated from law school and she, perhaps with a bit of relief, mentioned she was a lawyer, too. I wanted to elaborate that the bakery gig was just a temporary thing but other customers were waiting so I couldn't explain why I was serving cupcakes rather than billing hours. She was left to assume whatever she wanted, and I'm slightly ashamed I even wanted to explain myself. Yes, I am about to head out to a cushy job in a lovely place, but what if I weren't? What if I hadn't done as well as I had in law school and talked my way into biglaw? What if I'd <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> to take a part-time job to pay the bills until I'd found a "real" job? There would have been nothing wrong with that. That I felt the need to remind myself there's nothing wrong with that, however, smacks of intense elitism.<br /><br />Because if there is one thing I have learned from working with my co-workers, then it is that I am supremely privileged to work alongside them. They struggle to get ahead, but they still keep going. They scrimp and they save and they ride their bikes from Virginia so they can open at 6:30; they hustle for tips so they can pay tuition. They work the holidays because they want to, and they refrain from visiting family until they can afford to. I am honored to be near their motivation because it makes me just a little bit better. It reminds me of just how hungry everyone is for success, and that I have been very lucky to land where I have. My co-workers have fires in their bellies, and so do I.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-15622194510570249402008-11-16T22:46:00.003-05:002008-11-16T23:17:12.752-05:00Savvy marketing<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOUtpFgHe4KnBJ1H3B6f7D5rld43zU1XJTYamZh3NvHPloHcC64x3PiIM1T5PZD_zDYtD64v6qIxM4gGgGLZUxbVBUdee1PbopBGnCOOZELFp9hVH9WznheSSyLHG6Wab4GXux08IU_kZ/s1600-h/IMG_1239.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOUtpFgHe4KnBJ1H3B6f7D5rld43zU1XJTYamZh3NvHPloHcC64x3PiIM1T5PZD_zDYtD64v6qIxM4gGgGLZUxbVBUdee1PbopBGnCOOZELFp9hVH9WznheSSyLHG6Wab4GXux08IU_kZ/s320/IMG_1239.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />A children's clothing store in Georgetown.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Vive le capitalisme.</span><br /></div></div>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-61244428087752952372008-11-15T23:21:00.004-05:002008-11-15T23:27:08.770-05:00Part of the neighborhoodThe bakery customers are starting to remember me!<br /><br />Today I noticed a customer wearing a BAA 2007 Boston Marathon jacket. I asked her about it, she started to answer, but then she interrupted herself and said, "Wait, you're a marathoner, too! The Marine Corps. You have that really cool hat." Indeed, I do!<br /><br />And later, an older gentlemen took a look at my plain white tee and remarked, "You're not wearing one of your funny t-shirts." To his buddy, "She has all these funny t-shirts." Like the <a href="http://3-l.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-to-wear.html">sexy</a> one below.<br /><br />So great.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-32177011916262187322008-11-10T12:50:00.003-05:002008-11-10T13:48:22.760-05:00Loving President BushAt church yesterday, we prayed for President Bush. I should mention that I was at my home church, a bastion of liberalism that didn't support Al Gore in the 2000 primaries because he wasn't liberal enough. (We wanted Bill Bradley.) Lest you think I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies, I wasn't. I grew up in lovely, academic Princeton, NJ where my Sunday school teachers were professors at the seminary and where my friends' parents were professors at the university. So, yeah, maybe I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies.<br /><br />Anyway, I was surprised to hear the prayer for President Bush. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised because, you know, we're supposed to love everyone, but I was. The liturgist prayed that the President would have wisdom and courage in the last days of his administration and that he would be able to effect positive change for the country. A reasonable prayer, I thought, but still I was surprised.<br /><br />Then she started praying for President-elect Obama, and suddenly I understood. She'd just wanted to say those words out loud in church. "President-elect Obama." Crazy liberals - so predictable.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-79199770492398642902008-11-07T00:02:00.008-05:002008-11-07T10:11:43.777-05:00Caramel apples and a new food blog<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMPm1u97WzV69DSo5rW4VRlJZ1FCdVPryEpLMR93A3sJ3zEs0vnKl1qD34Wo53uNzwNy3KVDS3OC_OThip1V7DgGLxHrWjsdwhc9Zb90EgtmfCqgOw_OGyad9OCVHH-jCDWbHIvlnyWKo/s1600-h/IMG_1209.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMPm1u97WzV69DSo5rW4VRlJZ1FCdVPryEpLMR93A3sJ3zEs0vnKl1qD34Wo53uNzwNy3KVDS3OC_OThip1V7DgGLxHrWjsdwhc9Zb90EgtmfCqgOw_OGyad9OCVHH-jCDWbHIvlnyWKo/s320/IMG_1209.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Behold, caramel apples. Last week I saw <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/caramel-apples-recipe.html">this recipe</a> at 101 Cookbooks, and since there were only three ingredients on it, I gave it a try. It's super easy, but the one catch is that the caramel needs to be heated to just the right temperature. Since I don't have a candy thermometer, it turned out kinda soupy, so I will have to keep trying. In the meantime there is nothing wrong with scooping up melted caramel and eating it off the silpat. Yum.<br /><br />Which reminds me: I have a new blog. Well, semi-new. It's at <a href="http://fortunesfeast.wordpress.com/">Fortune's Feast</a>, and describes my attempts to teach myself Chinese cooking. As some of you know, I've long been conflicted about how "Chinese" I am, if identity even is something quantifiable. I speak Chinese, I lived in Taipei, but I have very few Chinese friends. I had all sorts of friends as a child, but somewhere around middle school is when all the Asian kids started hanging out with each other - and nobody else. This bothered me. It bothered me because I thought the practice exclusive and discriminatory. Maybe they weren't actively segregating themselves, but at one point one of my Chinese American classmates came over to my lunch table and asked, "Why don't you sit with the Asian kids?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That</span> bothered me. I didn't want to be exclusionary, but it seemed to be the only way to be "Asian" where I grew up.[FN1] So my response was to be not "Asian" and to befriend people of all ethnicities. Somewhere along the line, though, I think I overcompensated, because soon I had no Asian friends. That also bothered me. So I was conflicted.<br /><br />Anyway, this is all a long way of saying that I have a new food blog, where I try to reconnect with a heritage I once dismissed because I didn't want to be exclusive. I write about recipes, challenges, identity, and family. Mostly it's an excuse to eat more.<br /><br />----<br />FN1. Looking back I realize the absurdity of this all, even the very idea of "Asian." It's a wholly American concept - nobody in China actually wants to hang out with anybody in Korea. So really the attempt to be more "Asian" was something inauthentic to begin with.<br /></div></div>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-22948482261441891002008-11-05T20:04:00.008-05:002008-11-06T13:22:47.884-05:00God bless AmericaWhen the results came in last night, I knew I'd want to write something, but I wasn't sure what. What could possibly describe the sheer magnificence of it all? What words could I use? As it got later and later, I realized I was growing too tired to think of anything compelling, so my reflections would have to wait.<br /><br />Today, however, a day after the most exciting campaign I have had the privilege to see, I've started to put my finger on it. Just now I was playing "Yes We Can," on the YouTube (because, as you know, I find <a href="http://3-l.blogspot.com/2007/12/anthem.html">continuous loops</a> to be soothing), and I started to cry. Hard. As if it had been left up to me cry all the tears left in heaven: heaving shoulders, hiccups, a very scrunched up face. The Captain was initially amused because he's always amused by how sensitive I am (I can't watch an Army recruiting commercial without shedding a tear), but then he noticed there was something more and came over to hold me.<br /><br />Because there was something more - so much more. There was the very idea of a politics of hope, the idea that despite all the cynicism and special interests and real-world practicalities, the United States is a country firmly rooted in its belief that its people can, and will, do better. The idea that this is not a country that leaves its weak and poor behind, but takes care of its own and sends them out to do better. The idea that, yes, <span style="font-style: italic;">anyone</span> can be President, even a <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A19751-2004Jul27.html">skinny kid with a funny name</a> who someday promises his two little girls a <a href="http://thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/05/the-search-for-the-first-puppy/">puppy</a> once they move into the White House.<br /><br />And the idea that two Chinese immigrants, who spoke only passable English when they first arrived, could provide their daughter with the best education money could buy, and all the opportunities she could want. The idea that through hard work and determination, anything is possible.<br /><br />God bless America.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-18255159917437754192008-11-04T23:38:00.000-05:002008-11-04T23:39:13.786-05:00DoxologyAlleluia, Alleluia<br />Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluuuuuuuuuia.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0cmV4m5PthLqN-hNnX5L2haqwqWl_Qy8A5CZjfPsyRLniQmTl94qgbj40ic8phZTlheOYJJhZP5JYn9-0G2Lvv4qoklQ4ks6d1Uo7suT1K_KHMIa0hTJAm9BxQydYapz1QOa8-jv4L3V/s1600-h/n1004382_33007959_1393.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0cmV4m5PthLqN-hNnX5L2haqwqWl_Qy8A5CZjfPsyRLniQmTl94qgbj40ic8phZTlheOYJJhZP5JYn9-0G2Lvv4qoklQ4ks6d1Uo7suT1K_KHMIa0hTJAm9BxQydYapz1QOa8-jv4L3V/s200/n1004382_33007959_1393.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265027261538270018" border="0" /></a>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-72594683987515157912008-11-04T12:31:00.004-05:002008-11-04T12:35:15.983-05:00Continuous loopI have will.i.am's<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>"<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjXyqcx-mYY">Yes We Can</a>"<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span> playing on continuous loop. I find it soothing.<br /><br />Happy Election Day.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-67137670446834931932008-10-30T10:33:00.004-04:002008-10-31T09:32:25.129-04:00Another life goal: checkTwo days ago I got a phone call from that mid-level retailer (not J. Crew) offering me a position at their Georgetown shop. I turned them down. But not after thinking about it. Part of me really wanted to take it because it had been my dream, when I was sixteen, to work at this mid-level retailer. My friend Andrew worked for them at the time and I thought he was the coolest kid ever - 30% discounts and a fantastic wardrobe. Finally, at age twenty-nine, I had achieved my teenage dream. Talk about a dream deferred.<br /><br />When I thought about it some more, though, the prospect of working retail in Georgetown during the holidays wasn't all that appealing. Furthermore, the Captain brought up the salient point, "You'll be working two jobs, which adds up to full-time, and you don't even really need the work."<br /><br />Touche.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-5852011487894682192008-10-28T16:25:00.004-04:002008-10-28T16:46:57.456-04:00What to wearLike some of my friends, I don't know how to dress for work. Unlike these friends, I work at an indie, hippie coffee shop/bakery where I am the only one without body art. In other words, I work at a place completely opposite of what I've been preparing for the last three years. My closet is full to bursting with business casual; if my firm hadn't deferred me I wouldn't even be writing this post.<br /><br />Defer me they did, however, so now I have to find something that's cupcake-appropriate. I can't wear my office stuff because, well, coffee spills and I am clumsy. Nor can I wear my work-out stuff because I have a bad habit of cutting my t-shirts too short. (And really, I can do better than my five hundred GoldmanSachs CommunityTeamWorks t-shirts.) So lately I've been perusing some fantastically hipster t-shirt vendors.<br /><br />I like best the one below.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nerdyshirts.com"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKnZ9ZcVSaeZtjva7oagLvXWNwSjNSTSMfNZPJeVYwNvXwSUFwr_4Cpcq2P0vJ3Gtp-3YYtZM2dmCGxPekpnLyL84Ls7KEcThSH3z6PsCJgVAexvQwIJw6uDxQ6Y7eRJr-cPHfTYUxjTi/s200/sexy-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262308396039973922" border="0" /></a>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-31190053266370645332008-10-28T16:00:00.006-04:002008-10-28T16:24:18.353-04:00Done and doneOn Sunday I ran a marathon. My list of life goals just got a little shorter.<br /><br />I had been wanting to do a marathon ever since I saw my first one in person: New York, 2002. It is now 2008. Six years is a long time to have thought about doing something. Imagine how different I felt on Monday morning, then, when I didn't have to think about marathons any more. I was a whole new person. I was triumphant.<br /><br />Which is why it doesn't (really) bother me that I came in thirty-eight seconds slower than my goal time. In my mind, thirty-eight seconds <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> my goal time. I could be negative and think to myself, "I'm always just shy of everything I want." Or I could be positive and remember, "Hey, I just ran a marathon - and I feel amazing." Because I do.<br /><br />(And for those who are curious, yes, I had one of <a href="http://3-l.blogspot.com/2008/10/waddle-on.html">those days</a> on the course. It was everything I could have hoped for and more. Naturally I'm planning to do another as soon as I can. San Diego 2009, anyone?)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8dTLhk7DTgtJef19Tvd2iYY2-YnE5kLAJDAy5bkz4CmFN9PhpRqquYhTbC4w1l4svYKk-jLC85ZrTF9L4uO4gZRVuyAmus5yRW4cjMSWf1aMHWtwF9aGUiKKro_wcgntNzbfZrhhwAEyW/s1600-h/IMG_1159.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8dTLhk7DTgtJef19Tvd2iYY2-YnE5kLAJDAy5bkz4CmFN9PhpRqquYhTbC4w1l4svYKk-jLC85ZrTF9L4uO4gZRVuyAmus5yRW4cjMSWf1aMHWtwF9aGUiKKro_wcgntNzbfZrhhwAEyW/s200/IMG_1159.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262303168999188322" border="0" /></a>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-74202082156576209512008-10-25T14:59:00.016-04:002008-10-25T21:42:10.162-04:00Waddle onTomorrow I "run" my first marathon. To say that I am scared is an understatement.<br /><br />I am petrified.<br /><br />My last long "run" was three weeks ago and I did the last five miles in interminable pain. All I wanted to do was curl up and depreciate on the side of the trail. If I'd done that, though, I still would've had to get home, and since there wasn't any other way to get home, I just kept on walking. (Yes, by that point I was walking. Hence my terrible fear.) Marathoners often have mantras to keep themselves going, things like, "Yes! We! Can!" or "Almost there!". My mantra on my last run was, "Ignore the pain."<br /><br />Rather than dwell on my fear, though (or snap at the Captain and seethe at our houseguests), I've decided to remind myself of why I run as a kind of reassurance.<br /><br />I run because I want to. I run because I can. I run because if I don't, I develop a kind of depression so subtle I don't even notice - until I run again and feel exhilarated. Earlier this year I had to sit out two months and I entered a period of mourning. I grieved for the pleasure of running, of finding that a distance once impossible was later no big deal. I grieved for the sense of accomplishment of pushing myself - and succeeding.<br /><br />When I finally started running again I thought I had been reborn. I had bad days and slow days and walked-more-than-I-wanted-to days, but I also had good days. Days when my legs were strong and my body was fast. Days when fourteen miles were like a walk in the park. Days when I felt so coordinated and perfect I felt closer to God. Truly. On days like that I rejoiced in the wonder of creation and the gift of the human body. On days like that my running was prayer.<br /><br />It is unlikely that tomorrow will be one of those days. But it might. And those moments of joy are so pure they are worth chasing.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-64954214642676498762008-10-22T22:43:00.001-04:002008-10-22T22:45:23.066-04:00RespectAfter a long day on my feet, all I can say is...tip your servers. Serving coffee and cupcakes, while fun and enjoyable, is nonetheless hard work. <br /><br />Yeesh.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-25578979215190446342008-10-22T12:42:00.000-04:002008-10-22T22:47:14.325-04:00First day of work<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCZzWgMA9TaroA5kSWkZjqZfum0JjyWJry2Oxoa2BfceA419KKyfvJcoRL807E8cFVvl9fgbIRJ5kF4ayUuZLRBF4hn2o4z9P8J9UGhwVrYMZuejR3XJyme8W8gGnT7BPlMNdZgtZN8Wn/s1600-h/IMG_1139.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCZzWgMA9TaroA5kSWkZjqZfum0JjyWJry2Oxoa2BfceA419KKyfvJcoRL807E8cFVvl9fgbIRJ5kF4ayUuZLRBF4hn2o4z9P8J9UGhwVrYMZuejR3XJyme8W8gGnT7BPlMNdZgtZN8Wn/s320/IMG_1139.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br />KHC: Gah, I look emaciated.<br />The Captain: Good thing you're working at a cupcake bakery.<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-89481264298004128172008-10-20T21:19:00.007-04:002008-10-21T22:09:24.610-04:00Boston, you're my homeYeah, yeah, the Sox lost, but whatever. I still love that dirty water and I always will.<br /><br />Saturday morning the Captain and I arose at an ungodly hour for our flight to Boston. As we made our descent into New England, I saw the fiery treescape beneath me and I started to cry. Really. I was that happy to be back. And it was good thing, too, because our trip was so tightly scheduled there was no room for ambivalence.<br /><br />Our first stop was <a href="http://www.flourbakery.com/">flour bakery</a> because, well, just follow the link. And because Joanne Chang is my hero. She quit management consulting so she could open up a bakery, and now everyone is better off because of it. She forsake a steady paycheck in a lucrative field just so she could do what she loved, and she's excelled. In this gloomy and uncertain climate, I find that nothing short of heroic, even revolutionary. And yes, the sticky buns mean that much to me.<br /><br />Next we went to the Head of the Charles, where we did our best to walk off the eight million calories we’d just ingested. (We got close.) The Captain’s former rowers had just purchased a new boat and named one of its seats in his honor, so they invited him to the boat’s dedication. When we showed up they were absolutely. thrilled. to see him again - hugs and smiles all around. Even though he coached the kids for only a season, the impact he had was real. He'd been their coach, their disciplinarian, and their friend, and they loved him because of it. It was a pleasure to watch. <br /><br />Later that evening we went to a potluck held in our honor by First Friend and her husband, Dr. First Friend. First Friend was the first friend I ever made in law school and I am so lucky to count her as one of my friends still. She’d assembled a great group of former classmates to eat together and to watch the ALCS on a beautifully large flat-screen TV, but what truly stood out was the fellowship and the affection. It was a delight to be back with our friends from BC, and all night I kept saying, “This is the best weekend ever!”<br /><br />And it was true. There was a whole second day to go, full of more friends and more reuning and more caloric intake. But that would make too long a post, and I think you get the picture.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686743140428954034.post-39366085304547579602008-10-16T11:23:00.006-04:002008-10-16T21:43:09.619-04:00Customer ServiceSince my baking gig is only part-time, I've reached out to other, just-as-stimulating opportunities. Yesterday, I had an interview at a mid-level clothing retailer. (Not J. Crew.)<br /><br />Much to my surprise, it was an actual interview. As in, "Why are you interested in [Mid-level retailer]?" and "What does customer service mean to you?" I was wholly unprepared for the question. Which might have been a good thing because the answer I came up with was pretty awesome. I thought, where was <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> during OCI?<br /><br />So it got me thinking, maybe I tried too hard at OCI. Before every interview I had, I'd read up on the firm, practice some answers, and role-play with my sister or the Captain. Practicing gave me confidence, so I walked into every interview with a (marginal) sense of calm. Every interview except one: the one in which I was taken completely by surprise, in which the interviewer asked, "So what is your interest in San Diego?" Namely, the one which led ultimately to my best offer.<br /><br />Yeah, I worked too hard.KHChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18114913383347130070noreply@blogger.com0