Coming Up: Wolf-sharks vanquished, will the nefarious computer hackerz drop their guard long enough to allow a family law trial to make it to court? Will such an occurrence set off the necessary chain of events to bring us all to Apocalypse? Does one get paid time off for being taken up in The Rapture? The PIECE arrives! Will our brave engineer survive? Will weekends end? Beware of the kombucha? Will it tear this family apart? Adella slips away to be pawed and palped by a man with masterful hands while Andrew conquers a mountain. What will come of such Saturdays (lots of ice!)
Find out, below...
We Made it! Now will we ever make it out??
A trial - a bonafide actual family law trial - made it to trial! Hades just issued a frost watch, I assure you. After many twists and turns, this little zombie-case has made it through one whole day and most of our client's case. And - thanks to the international conspiracy of government hackers, international thugs, and ("evidence is leaning to suggest") our client's cabal of boyfriends and ex boyfriends proficient in nefarious computer manipulation - the other party apparently is not "as prepared" as he'd like to be. And yes, that was his opening "argument" (hackerz ate my homework!). From what I hear, he may not be conducting his case in a manner to cultivate credibility. Our client survived several hours of questioning on cross-examination. As I understand it, most of that time was spent with her, my mom, and the judge attempting to identify a question in the complex lattice-work of tangential conversation.
Because this is an odd case through-and-through, the next day of trial does not commence until next Tuesday. Our opposing party claims that - since he is not prepared - he is confidant that this will be a short case. I claim, based on having seen him in action, that this will not be the case.
In unrelated news, there is apparently now an Aztec Diet centered around chia seeds. For good measure, it throws in quinoa and its wing-men amaranth and bulgar. As somebody who rather enjoys chia seeds (they are very strange little specks that do funny things when soaked), I wish people would stop hyping up the foods I like as SUPERMEGAAWESOMEHEALING-FOODZ, and turning them all trendy and fancy. I guess I shouldn't complain too much, since it does make them more likely to be available locally at stores that aren't marked up twenty percent for the glow of smug satisfaction one derives from shopping at an all natural locavore community health-store. But since I buy my stuff in bulk from amazon, I'm less swayed by this availability.
I remember in the days of childhood when a pomegranate was just a fruit that couldn't be eaten without cordoning the dining area off with crime tape. Then it had to go and get all magical healing antioxidant on me and... well at least we've gotten bored of that one.
I also remember drinking kombucha as a teenager because it was the only soda-like beverage that wasn't overly sweet. Oh and I could legally buy something with alcohol in it, which was entertaining. Oh and maybe the creepiness of that whole SCOBY mother and babies and oh I can't go into it all without actually remembering what I'm talking about, but trust me brewing kombucha is weird.
After rediscovering it recently as a moderately caloric drink for my bulking desires, I also discovered that it's currently revered as some kind of agnostically holy panacea for all that ails you. And that Lindsay Lohan blamed it for a positive alcohol test she had, which may inspired a (now ex-) client to try the same "it was the kobucha seeds" excuse for a failed UA test. Realizing, perhaps, that the alcohol content in kombucha is minimal and could possibly show up but would not likely do so in high concentrations, he cannily added that it was also "the listerine" and "hand sanitizer" Now I'm an optimist about the human spirit (sort of), so I'd like to believe him on that one. In extreme cases, any of these could lead to a positive UA. I'm guessing it could have been all those things... probbaly mixed together in a cocktail with some high-proof vodka! But at the end of the day you've got to be careful about those kobucha seeds: they ruin lives and break up families!
Well, I'd best be off to do a little dabble of work before my gym-hippety-hop, office errands, and bonus dance lesson this evening.
Saturday Regained
A large piece of something huge has arrived at Mr. (W)right's place of employment. It was expected roughly first thing "next week" for as many months as my pretty little head can contemplate (so, about three). Other wee pieces also expected "next week" continue to be expected "next week" and possibly "late next week" at that. However, this is the piece, the true piece, the one and only piece. All other pieces are inferior echoes of this great and singular PIECE known as "base weldment." Or so I might infer.
I have long been promised (oh those sweet nothings) that once THE PIECE arrives, all hell will break loose at work. Andrew keeps referring to "all hands on deck" and "swarm ball." I think he says "swarm ball." He also says "swarm ball" to refer to that league of soccer where the children are too young to actually play soccer as much as run around and look cute. Needless to say I'm envisioning kind of a Village People Musical of rugged engineers in EI t-shirts and cut-off jeans playing some kind of mad game with a soccer ball and sailor hats. I'm not sure this is exactly how it pans out in reality.
Anyways, I was also promised that there may be some weekends worked. This one, in particular, seemed to be cordoned off for such activity. But, well, I guess all that other next-week parts remain important enough to require a presence before hands can get all decky and balls can be swarmed. Phew - single girl crisis forestalled. But it does sound like he's feeling the stress of looming deadlines a bit.
As we're currently at trial and I'm in denial about the other two trials coming up this month, I'm serving as the sanguine pillar for the next two or three minutes at least. I'm such a good spouse that way. I'm even really investing in the role by getting a massage today. It would have entertained me more to do this while Andrew was working instead of while Andrew is on his mountain bike trying to ride himself plumb off a mountain.
But before all that mountain massage madness, we'll actually get to do our regular Saturday routine after all! Should be interesting as I planned myself into doing a pretty tough intervals workout yesterday on the benighted belief that I wouldn't be running today. I figured it would be ok if I made it an "easy pace" which Andrew jokingly figured meant I'd not dash off and lose him after two minutes of warm up. Silly boy, as if I could resist Sweet Pea-ing straight into oblivion!
Mmmmm Aaaaaahh Oooooouch
Yesterday, I slipped away from my husband (only after insisting on his giving me a reverse strip tease into his full bike kit), and slunk down the street to visit Nick. I go to see Nick every few weeks, and the experience is always the same. He has me doff my garb and climb into bed. Once there, I give my body over to him, allowing him to throw me from position to position like Raggedy-Anne on a bender. He touches me in ways no man or woman ever has or would ever be welcome to do.
Nick asks about pressure. It's always "good" with a slight moan. He is open to input, but he knows my body better than I ever could. I'm but an eager sight-seer on his whirlwind excursions about my physical form, gasping at the discovery of a new isle of tension or tendon. The sheer rush of sensation transcends such perfunctory modifiers like "pleasure" or "pain" - both apply, but fall far short of the exquisite agony of his probing palp.
When it's over, I can barely stand, and must gingerly reassemble myself from the depths of roiled reverie lest I stagger into the wall. He sees me to the door with water and a gentle word, and I stagger away only after discretely leaving him a token for his troubles.
Nick makes conversation from time to time. The chatter is inevitably routine and intentionally bland - dentist chair chatter. We know odds and ends of social weave. I'm attorney who dances and likes to run with her husbands. He's a skittish tow-headed kid who could be anywhere from 19 to 39 who enjoys mountain biking and thinks the autumn leaves are beautiful this year.
But to him, I am really only sinew, joint and muscle to be tamed. He is a warrior making a last desperate stand against the scourges of tension misalignment and those nefarious little knots. My body provides quite the battle arena.
For me, he is a personal mechanic. I smile as he mutters "oh, I don't like this..." as if the recent problem area he has unmasked may well be wired to detonate. It's about to hurt a lot, but whatever it is, I'm going to need it. I laugh when he apologizes for some discomfort on the horizon. To my mind, I've brought it on myself and he's only the agent of inevitability. Massage, to my mind, is just another aspect of fitness, and a vital foundational component of building or maintaining the good technique I stumble upon from time to time
Needless to say, I am sore today. In a whole different realm of sore than my usual post-workout sore. But I'm also surprisingly loose and light. It won't last. I'll set about acquiring a whole new host of things to confound Nick over the next two weeks. There are dance lessons to be had. Weights to be pushed. Intervals to be squeaked out. And ergonomically questionable work to do hovering about a keyboard and mouse.In the meantime, I've got my pain relievers and some very gentle stretching to do as I muse on the unbearable lightness of being less tight.
Monday #shoesday Trial Day Super-Tuesday
Well let's just start the week thoroughly disoriented shall we? The courts are closed on Veteran's Day, so the office was also technically closed.
That's not to say that some of us didn't come into the office for a spell or two. My mom, for instance, has a trial resuming today, so she seemed to think it would be helpful to ... I don't know... prepare for it? I think it's probably impossible to actually prepare for anything in this trial.
See, as I mentioned, the opposing party is apparently the center of a world-wide government/criminal hacking scheme that mostly (from what I can tell) involves harassing him in petty ways, melting his cell phone, and interfering with his ability to prepare for trial. This is as much as I cold glean from his "opening argument" at any rate, although we've heard similar claims for several years (including that he's right on the cusp of cracking the case and our client had better be concerned - you know, I kind of hope our client does turn out to be this evil mastermind who's completely gaslit this dude for several years. I would so have to give her kudos for that).
Yes, yes, ha ha NSA, etc. etc. Of course it's not crazy to think we're being hacked/spied on/our privacy invaded. Hell, when my computers start acting up, I talk to them like little children and inform people that they have been infested with little demons and we may need a which doctor (I speak in metaphor or something of course, but what is truth, what is reality, but a series of mirrored analogies of unglimpsed truths?). It may, however, verge into crazy land when we start waiving samurai swords around from our roof tops or chasing police down the street with blenders because we can't open our email (not the actual facts of the case, but I decline to comment on how the actual facts compare in terms of wackiness). The first day of trial was mostly reserved for an Abbot and Costello style whose-on-first-witness-stand cross examination of our poor client. Lord knows what comes next. Hopefully a song and dance routine.
I worked a little too yesterday (while watching The Avengers via Netflix, sure, but work!). Mostly in preparation for the upcoming Collaborative Professionals Meeting. While my mother dons her linen flack jacket and heads into crazy land, I will wield my maiden shield of ultra book and attempt to wade through a high-paper trail day of deliberations. Technically my term as secretary ends next month. I have indicated my willingness to sign on for another two years, although I think I should add some conditions (the conference room where the board meets is not allowed to be set higher than 68 degrees, and all meeting minutes must end five minutes before 1:00 p.m. so I can shut down and leave). We're also voting on some actual official stuff to adopt or shred. I seem to juggle the papers around here, so I had a lot of papers in the air yesterday in preparation for today.
Naturally, I'm having a bit of a hormonal flare up these last few days. I was downright distant last evening in that particular way I still associate with an influx of alien estrogens rampaging around my system. I'm starting to think that the progesterone pills actually mellow out the estrogen a bit. They make me really tired, but I have less of a prickly skinned estrogen impatience generally speaking. Needless to say, I've been delightful and expect to be a sterling scintillating candidate for office this afternoon.
Perhaps the right pair of shoes will stead me well. Of course, I'm drawn to the skulls on the October 31st pair, but perhaps that's reinforcing the message I'm attempting to tamp down on. The ones from the 23rd have a nice secretarial feel to them. Well, think ultimately, might have to go with the 10th/11th pair. They aren't the friendliest, but they will get the job done and kick down any evil computer geniuses trying to get in my way today.
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