Aging

I am twenty-eight years old. I can say that for only so much longer, so I am saying it as much as I can. Twenty-eight, twenty-eight, twenty-eight.

The Captain's thirtieth birthday is also this week; his day has taken precedence over mine, of course. Twenty-nine is still a significant number, [FN1] however, so I offer some reflections on my twenty-eighth year:

It was pretty good! Lots of great things happened: I ran my first half-marathon, the Red Sox won the World Series, I achieved anonymous fame by way of this blog, I graduated from law school, and I moved in with the Captain.

(I took the bar, too, but that wasn't a great thing. Here's hoping that twenty-nine will bring news of my admission.)

Twenty-eight, twenty-eight, twenty-eight...
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FN1. The Chinese, for example, consider the nines (19, 29, 39) more auspicious than the whole decades. The word for nine, jiu, sounds like a word meaning longevity and long duration. On the other hand, the word for the decades, shi, sounds like the word for death. I think that's all I really need to say about that.

Grad student redux

I am sitting in a cafe and I am blogging.

How cliched is that?

In truth I am surprised it has taken this long for me to do this. The sweltering heat probably has something to do with that; I was a prisoner of central air-conditioning until about a week ago. Now that I don't need to bring a handkerchief wherever I go, though, I've found the neighborhood to be pleasant indeed. At the moment I am sitting beneath a bookcase stocked with back-issues of Bon Appetit, Food&Wine, and Gourmet Magazine. More importantly, a collection of delicious cupcakes sits on the other side of the wall. It could be a long time before I head back to P St...

As an aside, I note that I am only one of many people sitting with a laptop. There must be seven or eight of us; there are definitely more laptop-users than plain old coffee drinkers. When it comes to computer make, however, I am definitely in the minority. That's right, almost everyone else has a Mac.

It's a brand new world.

Get a job

Two days ago I applied for a job...at Banana Republic. I saw they were hiring, and thinking my rotted brain could handle retail at least, I filled out an application.

I'm not optimistic.

The manager was very friendly, but as he scanned my employment history, he got a very quizzical look on his face. He thought he saw some retail experience, but dummy that I am, I swiftly corrected him, "I'm a lawyer." Then I explained that my full-time job didn't start until January and that I was just looking for short-term work. He seemed to understand, but I left feeling...well, dumb. Especially because I do have retail experience, at that fabled Princetonian institution, Thomas Sweet. I just conveniently forgot to mention it either on my application or to the manager in person.

It's all right. On my way home I saw that the Gap, Zara, and Restoration Hardware are hiring, too.

Yeowww!

Per CaliSeaStar's suggestion, I took an ice bath yesterday after my long run. Lucky for me she sent along an article instructing me how to do it correctly and even luckier for me, I read it.

Truth 1: It's an ice bath in name only; the water needs to be between 50 and 60F. I'm a fairly literal person; without proper instruction I probably would have unloaded my ice trays into the bath tub and then suffered the consequences.

Truth 2: There can be consequences. When I mentioned to the Captain I was doing an ice bath, he told me that crew kids have died when jumping into rivers after long, hard races. Great.

Truth 3: It's better with a lifeguard. While most people don't die upon taking their ice baths, some people do faint, so having a buddy nearby is a good idea. This was a particular concern for me, as I have been known to faint, in public, without so much as a drop of cold water - or alcohol! - nearby.

Truth 4: Yeowwww! Ice baths are cold. But I am feeling much better today, so thanks Cali. See you soon.

Badge of Honor

There is a lot of time between taking the bar and starting my job. To kill all this time, I chose to run a marathon. Some people travel, some people stay on the couch, but I, I chose to run twenty-six miles. Because I wanted to.

This makes me wonder about myself.

It takes a certain amount of nerve to run a distance associated with a soldier who died after running it. It also takes a certain amount of denial, which I am not so sure is different from nerve. When my knees and my ankles ache at the end of the run and when I barely can climb the stairs at the end of the day, for example, I practice a form of denial.

Whatever.

The marathon is at the end of October, and I have been training since...not enough ago. But I’ve been working hard and I have the hat to prove it. I almost don’t want to wash it.

Living with Boys

Several nights ago, I went out to dinner with a large group of friends, and as often happens with large groups of friends, some of us got our entrees before others. I got my entree fairly early, while the man seated next to me got his fairly late. He urged the rest of us to start, saying he was a fast eater so we didn't have to worry. He told us he'd grown up in a house with two brothers, where the only way to get seconds was to get them first.

I didn't grow up with two brothers. I also try to eat slowly so I don't overeat. Now that I am living with TWO big boys, however, I need to pick up my game. Food just has a way of disappearing around here.

Smarty pants

Tonight we celebrated Dr. Caro's birthday. She was my roommate in college and is now a rocket scientist.[FN1] Sixteen of her friends assembled for the festivities, and at some point over dinner, someone noticed that of us sixteen, six had PhDs.

I thought this tremendous. Having been questioned over and over again for getting not one but two advanced degrees, I found it absolutely. refreshing. to be one of the less-educated people at dinner.

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FN1. More or less. Her card doesn't say "Rocket Scientist," but her department is Space Exploration, so good enough.