This is What a Professional I am

I just listened to a recording of my presentation. First, I hate the sound of my voice. (Not that I don't like hearing myself talk; that's different.) I think it went pretty well, except my partner sounds like he was on speed and I sound like I was on quaaludes. Pretty much the way I talk anyway, I guess. When you do one of these seminar speeches, they always add to the materials a little bio/resume on the presenters. (This is where I am referred to as "Esquire," which I find terribly silly. It reminds me of "Bill S. Preston, Esquire" from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. By that I mean, I see myself more as a dumbass than any sort of real lawyer.) These bios are always super boring and full of "look-how-smart-and-successful-I-am" crap, and I truly didn't think anyone ever read them, so, smartass that I am, I just couldn't resist the opportunity to see if anyone would actually read mine. I tried doing a straight one first, but it amounted to like 2 short paragraphs and made me look like an idiot, so I took the real one and made it way better. And before I left D.C. on Saturday, at least 4 people said, "LOVED your bio!" Dang. I didn't want anyone to actually READ IT. For your entertainment, and in the interest of giving you even more embarrassing information about me, here it is:

Jill Mitchell earned a B.A. in English from the University of Texas at Arlington in 1988 where she ranked seventh in the Liberal Arts College and first in her major. She then spent a year at the University of Paris (La Sorbonne) where she earned a polite notice that she had failed miserably. She received her J.D. from St. Mary's University School of Law in San Antonio, Texas where she was able to write on to the Law Journal staff and go on to publish, with much fanfare, Reformers' Regress: The 1991 Texas Workers' Compensation Act, 22 St. Mary's L.J. 1111 (1991). She participated in internships with Bexar County Legal Aid and with the Judge Advocate General's Office at Lackland Air Force Base. In 1991, she passed the Texas bar exam on her first try, by one point.

She is a member of the Court of Appeals for Veterans Claims Bar Association, the National Organization of Veterans Advocates, the Texas Bar Association, the Pro Bono College of the State Bar of Texas, the San Antonio Bar Association, and a variety of loosely-organized literary and social groups. She has spent 16 years as a longsuffering military wife, and through her children, she maintains minimal involvement with the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts of America. She has acted as a volunteer with the Texas Equal Justice Access Service Project and University of Detroit Mercy School of Law's Project Salute. She was also a member of the Texas Young Lawyers Association until she got too old.

She is licensed to practice in all courts in the state of Texas, before the U.S. District Court for the Northern and Western Districts of Texas, and before the U.S. Court of Appeals for Veterans Claims.

She practiced civil trial law in Lubbock, Texas where she handled all phases of litigation in areas including personal injury, product liability, professional malpractice, consumer issues, labor, family, civil rights, and commercial and criminal defense. She also worked in legal publishing, writing for Lawyers Co-op and editing for a legal software company.

Since 2000, aside from occasional wills for friends, her own traffic tickets, and nasty letters to insurance companies, she has limited her practice to veterans' law, and works all alone in a luxurious home office.

In her free time, she enjoys reading one novel per year, nurturing her blog, shopping flea markets, and practicing yoga -- but not simultaneously.

Cut me some slack, I'll be back

I'm leaving for DC tomorrow to do a presentation at a veterans' law conference Friday morning. Everytime I think about it I feel like I'm going to either puke, have diarrhea, or both. I'll have to remember to take an Immodium the night before so I'll be locked up for several days, and then probably take a Pepto and one of my mild tranquilizers that morning. And I'll have to skip coffee and maybe just eat a saltine so if I do throw up, maybe it won't be bad. Unless it's projectile. That could get embarrassing. I know the info, and I'll be speaking to newbies, so I probably won't get heckled too much. And of course I made it hilarious, so I think as long as they laugh at the appropriate times, I'll do fine.

Then almost as soon as I get back, Mike will be leaving for a couple of months. He has to teach me all the man-chores to do while he's gone, like how to use the riding lawnmower, how to add salt to the water softener, how to check the propane level, how to use the weed-eater, how to water the garden and flower beds, and whatever else he does out there. Hmmmmm..... I may just have to hire a yard boy.

Wish me luck. On the presentation, I mean. Well, with the lawn boy, too. I mean finding one to hire for legit work, of course.

Happy Birthday to Me

This morning I woke up 42. (Which means I have entered the 43rd year of my life.) I recently got this sweet sentiment in an email from my mom: "I can't believe you have gotten so old while I am still so young." When I sarcastically thanked her for that, she kindly replied (with a straight face), "You're welcome." I do hope I'll be as young as she is when I become that elderly.

Top Ten Things That Haven't Changed:

10. I still haven't found the perfect purse. (Don't let me get a fanny pack or start pushing an old grocery cart.)

9. I still have fake blonde hair. (My natural color could be gray now for all I know.)

8. I still don't drive a minivan. (Shoot me if I ever do.)

7. I'm still a hypochondriac. (Only now, the conditions I dream up could really happen.)

6. I'm still insecure. (But I've almost perfected the illusion of confidence.)

5. I still have the constant sciatic pain that started when I was 25. (Shouldn't I be used to it by now?)

4. I can still drink as much as I used to. (But instead of puking and going back for more, I just go to sleep.)

3. I still enjoy insulting others in a good-natured yet merciless way, wallowing in self-pity, and shoe shopping. (But I finally figured out that my fear that I've unintentionally hurt (albeit ultra-sensitive) people's feelings leads to feeling sorry for myself which ultimately lands me in a shoe store for comfort. That's the real reason I have so many shoes.)

2. I still wish everyone treated English grammar rules with more respect. (But now I know I can't save the world from such blasphemy.)

1. I still weigh the same as I did at 25. (An old, flabby 125 is still 125, dammit!)

Top Ten Things That Have Changed:

10. My gums. (My dentist says they are "receding." At least it's not my hairline.)

9. My bras. (Even an A-cup needs support.)

8. My forehead. (If only I could have spent less time frowning.)

7. I use more sunscreen. (Even though it's probably too late to matter.)

6. I'm smarter. (At least book-wise).

5. I'm more content. (Like a cow chewing its cud.)

4. I have a little more money. (Not that I spend it more wisely.)

3. I appreciate friends and family more. (Not that I express it enough.)

2. I have a better perspective. (We are grains of sand. We are milliseconds. We are blinks.)

1. I get to hear "Love you, mama" every day. (Who knew dirty diapers would lead to that?)

Now, I think I'll go celebrate by shaving my spider-veined (yet still shapely) legs and washing my (too long for my age) hair. Maybe I'll give myself the day off and go shopping for shoes.

I'd have a nervous breakdown if I could only find the time

{Keep reading--it gets way better after a few paragraphs of this garbage.}

As usual my desk is covered with papers that need to be dealt with. Either filed, trashed, calendared, or taken to the grocery store. There are about 15 cards that need personal handwritten notes, envelopes, addresses, and stamps. There are bills to pay, coupons to put somewhere, to do/go/get lists, and of course all my little scribblings. Scattered and piled on top of all this is work I need to be doing. Letters to write, letters to read, phone calls to return, phone calls to make, research done or to be done, and ideas for an out-of-control seminar presentation I should have finished day before yesterday. As soon as I get the desk organized, in the time it takes me to surf the Internet for a time-management wonder drug, it looks like a paper recycling dumpster has exploded. My desk is also currently sporting a burning candle. Dangerous, I know. But I'm living on the edge here. The edge of a nervous breakdown.

I don't know how to prioritize. I know that you eat the elephant one bite at a time; I just never know where to bite first. I've heard you should do the most important things first, but they are all important. I've heard that you should do the small things first, but then the big things seem even bigger. I've heard that you should do the big things first, but then the little ones will never get done. I've heard that you should do the things you dread most first, but I think I dread them all equally. So I get overwhelmed and freeze up. Then I spend an hour blogging.

All this to say, I am burning my candle at both ends, I have too much on my plate, and I'm in over my head. I have too many irons in the fire, and too many fires to put out. I have too many loose ends to tie, demands to deny, mistakes to justify, needs to satisfy, and tears to cry.

I had a whole Saturday today to try again to get on top of things, but all I managed to do was get my eyebrows waxed and spend too much money at the outlet mall. I knew I was wasting time. My nervous stomach and the still, small voice of reason could scarcely be heard over my determination to find my size in the racks and racks and shelves and shelves of low rise long and lean cut jeans at The Gap. I'm sorry, but they were on sale for $15. Sixty dollars worth of remorse later, I punished myself by steering clear of Pottery Barn and passing Starbucks by as if it were a foreign, inconsequential stranger.

So here I sit at 5:30 p.m. Too late to start over now. I would say I'd start over tomorrow, but tomorrow is already full. That pushes me to Monday. A whole new week to work on heading off my implosion.

Now, finally to the reason I sat down to write today. It is my father's birthday. He would be 66. Yesterday, I knew today would be the 29th, but when I saw the date in the bright, compassionless digital lights of my cell phone this morning, I had to cry. Two years ago on this day, my parents found out that my dad's melanoma had returned with a vengeance. We lost him just short of one month later. When he was first diagnosed, we knew we would be lucky to have him five more years. Turns out, we were blessed with those five years and enjoyed every one of them. He had tried to die on us several times before, so in a way, it came as no surprise that he finally went through with it.

Five days after his last birthday, I turned 40. I spent that day curled up next to him on the bed where my mother, sister, brother and I spent that precious month looking at pictures, remembering stories, laughing, and planning for the farewell. He wanted us to be sure to play some Kris Kristofferson and Willie Nelson. He wanted us to have Angelo's barbecue. He was grateful for his family and friends, and was pleasantly surprised that God gave him such a nice opportunity to say so. He was full of laughter. He was fearless. I miss him so much. When I turned 40 on that bed, I was painfully reminded that I was not a little girl anymore. No more safety net, no more of his strong hugs, no more anything like it was for my 40 years. Sometimes I still scream inside and shake my fist, but that's just part of the deal. If I hadn't loved him so much to begin with, I would never have been so sad. I don't think anyone would trade loving someone today to avoid any amount of pain they may endure to let them go tomorrow.

I'll have to post the eulogy I wrote. In my never so humble opinion, it was one of the best things I have ever written. I'm good at eulogies.

Mental Fragments

I saw this ad on an 18-wheeler: "Antigua Cruz: Make memories with the best tasting Tequila" Does anyone else find that funny? I'm sorry…no matter what the tequila tastes like, I rarely make memories when I drink it. If anything, I lose them. Or more likely, I never acquire them in the first place. Thank God. Maybe it means the tequila makes memories for the other people at the party with you who were smart enough to stick with beer. "Remember when Jill did the lambada with the chandelier? Remember when she threw up in the potted plant at Denny's? Remember when she fell asleep with her face on the gas station toilet seat? … Goood times."

Some Words I Like:
Scintilla, Rubric, Rigmarole, Boondoggle, Hornswaggle, Bamboozle, Brouhaha, Hullaballoo, Hubbub, Shindig, Hootenanny, Ripsnorter, Cornucopia, Hobgoblin, Banshee, Flummox, Scalawag, Ragamuffin, Caterwaul, Cacophony, Cantankerous, Curmudgeon, Persnickety, Bailiwick, Willy-nilly, Higgledy-piggledy, Lollygag, Dilly-dally, Uvula, Arugula, Urethra.

(I have a lot more, but I wanted to get these down before I forgot them. I welcome suggestions.)

Words I don't care for: feces, areola, labia, scrotum, beaver.

Some foods & drinks I hate:
Milk, root beer, rye bread, pretzels, blue cheese, maple syrup, green apples, grocery-store tomatoes.

Some foods I probably hate but haven't tried: beets.

Pet peeve phrases:
"Long story short…" (This is rarely the case, and those 3 words just make the story that much longer)
"At the end of the day…" (What does this mean? Why do people say this? Does it mean it takes a whole day to figure something out? And does it mean a full day or just by close of the business day?"
"Pet peeve" (What is a peeve, and why would you pet it if you don't like it?)


Things people say incorrectly that really irritate the holy living crap out of me:
"All the sudden"
"For all intensive purposes"
"At your beckon call"
"Mischievious"
"Supposably"
"Between (or for/with/to/or any other preposition) you (or anyone else) and I (or he, she, we, or they)"
Pronoun subjects of a sentence are: I, you, he, she, it, we, they
Pronoun objects of a sentence are: me, you, him, her, it, us, them
Read it, know it, live it. Sound smarter. I'm just trying to make the English-speaking world a better place. What did I get an English degree for if I can't use it in my daily life for the improvement of others' personal quality and overall level of power and influence?

There are a few other things people say that get on my nerves, but if I were to list them, no one would ever speak to me for fear of my not hearing what they say because I will be busy mentally editing everything that comes out of their mouths, bless their hearts.

This is all for now. Just needed to declutter.