Ugly Juice Is Proud Owner of Shiny New US Passport

I am having the best time ever here in Chicago. Last night we (Kelly, her excellent boyfriend Matt, and I) met up with Megan for dinner. We had an amazing Thai meal and then went out for some drinks after. We talked and laughed all night, superfun. This morning I bypassed the hundreds of people grumpily waiting in line hoping for passports (a security guard, a bit high on the power of wearing a badge, was shouting: "Stand against the wall! Shut off your phones! This is your first, last, and only warning! If I see your phone you will be kicked out and will not come back today! If you do not have an appointment or are not traveling within two days you need to leave right now. They will not see you. You WILL be here ALL DAY. Stand against the wall! Shut off your phones! This is your first. . .")(That was his actual mantra I swear to you I am not exaggerating) and Kelly's friend processed my application for me within minutes. I was out of there at 9:15 (the place opened at 9) and was told that the passport would be ready and waiting for me at 12:30. Which it was. Total rock star treatment! Kelly and Matt met me downtown and we walked around Chicago for awhile, went to the park, had a great lunch, spent much of the afternoon at the art institute. We are headed over to Megan and Mike's place for dinner tonight. I fly out tomorrow at 6! I've received word that Summ and Sarah made it to Isla safe and sound, so hopefully I can pull this off and we can be done with the shenanigans. I plan to arrive at the airport a bit earlier than I otherwise might. Adios, amigos!

Baby Lawyers Attain Astonishing New Levels of Incompetence

Sadly, the plot thickens. Summ called me late this morning from the airport--she missed her flight. So she's not going down until tomorrow now. And of course we have no way of contacting Geoff, who apparently has no phone service in Mexico and--I can only imagine--is currently wandering around the Cancun airport looking for Summ, who was supposed to land at 3 pm. The airline refused to deliver a message to him (which is so stupid, how hard would it be to catch him as he walks off the plane?). I can only hope that he managed to arrive in Cancun unscathed--for all I know he might be in Fairbanks right now. Better still, Summ and I are the only ones with directions to the little house on Isla where we are staying. There is no address. In fact, we did not give Geoff any of the directions to get to the island and to find the house once he gets there. So I'm not quite sure what my good pal G is going to do but I sure hope he thinks to check his e-mail. He is so incredibly laid back that he will probably wait for hours before he gives up on finding Summ.

And we want to be lawyers.

Juice Takes Scenic Route To Isla Mujeres

The passport has definitely disappeared. I have looked everywhere in the entire house twice. This whole ordeal has been frustrating but humbling.

That's okay. I have hatched a new plan that is going to be great. I am taking the Megabus to Chicago and will hang out with my good friend Kelly for a couple of days, crashing on her couch. I learned that the Chicago Passport Office will issue emergency same-day passports, but you have to arrive super early and wait all day. I tell Kelly this is my plan and she says, "Hey, I have a friend in that office. Let me see if I can get ahold of her." A short while later she calls me back--no need to wait in line, just show up Monday morning and ask for her friend, and she'll take care of me right away. Hot DAMN I am a lucky duck. Sun Country gave me full credit for the ticket I had to cancel, and I was able to find a cheap ticket to Cancun out of Chicago Tuesday morning. All told I'm only out about fifty bucks, I get a nice little trip to Chi-Town out of the deal, and I'll arrive just three days later than originally planned. I will still have nine lovely days to spend in Mexico.

In his book, Stumbling on Happiness, Daniel Gilbert posits that one of the reasons why people can be happy when things are (objectively) quite sucky is that we tend to justify situations so that we can feel better about them. Particularly situations where there is no other choice. I have no idea what he's talking about.

And not that I didn't have any other choices, by the way. I had lots of them. Or so (*throat clearing*) it seemed. The idea that was most appealing between the hours of 3 a.m. (as I am tearing through the boxes in the southwest corner of the attic) and 11 a.m. (as I am driving three hours to the land of my origin to get a copy of my birth certificate) involved disembarking during the layover in Dallas, taking a bus to the border, walking across the border on foot (unnecessary, but seems like an important and slightly poetic detail in the scheme of things), and then riding a bus down the whole length of Mexico to the Yucatan Peninsula. The adventure involved in this plan was so very alluring that I temporarily forgot that the bus ride would probably take a total of five days, and I would probably get raped and robbed, and I would still be faced with the problem of re-entering the United States. Once Summ got on the case late morning, a New Totally Foolproof Plan was hatched: We convince Sun Country that they have to let me on the plane, because I actually have a passport you see, but my husband accidentally took it on his trip with him, and he is going to Fed Ex it to me in Mexico, and (see!) I have the documents I need to get into Mexico (brandish birth certificate, driver's license, and big shiny smile) and I'll be all set to re-enter the United States once that passport arrives. Did I mention he is sending it via Fed Ex? They smile and say okay, sure, go ahead and board the plane. No problemo. Step two of this plan involves showing up distraught at the American Embassy in Mexico Monday morning, crying because I have just lost my passport somewhere in Cancun and pleading with them to issue me a new one. Your tax dollars at work. I am so cheered by the genius of this plan (and possibly a bit lightheaded since I had not eaten in 24 hours due to the distraction of the passport search) that I actually believe it will work and decide to call Sun Country to try out the story on them. They hate the story! Not a chance. No way are they letting me on that plane unless I prove that I have a passport--or have applied for a passport--to get back in the country. Of course I have a vague idea that these plans are half-baked and crazed, but at times my optimism tends to cloud my sense of reality.

That six hour drive today, by the way: Sad story. I decide that since I have no passport, I better at least get my hands on my birth certificate. From my old job, I have a lot of experience obtaining public records--including birth certificates--and I know that you need to request the record from the county where it was created. So I hop in the Subaru this morning and head to beautiful Fergus Falls, Minnesota (the Otter Tail county seat just in case you didn't know).

Three hours later, I arrive at the county recorder's office and request a copy of my birth certificate. The lady asks, "Were you born in Minnesota?" Something about this question seems strange--why didn't she ask if I was born in the county?--so I ask her: "Can you provide a copy of any birth certificate in the state?" "Sure," she says. Blink. Blink. Swallow. "So, for example, could I get a copy of this Otter Tail County birth certificate at a Hennepin County Service Center?" "Sure." "Really. How long ago did the systems get consolidated?" "About a year ago." Thoughtful pause. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Anyway.

I had a lovely dinner with Greta tonight. She is moving to southern California next week. We ate on the patio at Jax Cafe, which I loved--I wish my patio looked like that. I am going to miss having my Greta around... :( I gave jL a ring after we left (Jax is about one minute away from her house. Not that I need an excuse.) and was delighted to learn that she had just opened a bottle of Argentinian red. Perfect. All in all a nice way to end a basically crummy day.

Minneapolis Woman's Life is Hijacked by Irresponsible Scatterbrained Bonehead

In the last couple of days I seem to have lost all ability to keep my shit together. The drama of the moment is that I cannot find my passport. I always keep it in a folder in the file cabinet but it has inexplicably disappeared. I am searching everywhere. I am not panicking yet, but I'm pretty close to it. I don't know where else to look. I know that the U.S. has temporarily relaxed its travel requirements to Mexico, so I guess I will stay up all night ripping my house apart and head down to the passport center tomorrow if I still have not found it. According to the state department web site, you can travel without a passport as long as you have proof that your passport application is being processed. Usually it takes about a week to get that proof, though. Does anyone have experience with this? Criminy, I want the old Anna back, the one who was fairly responsible and organized.

My life was first highjacked by this new, can't-keep-her-shit-together Anna on Tuesday morning, when I went to register for the bar exam....

The Worst Five Minutes of My Life

By Ugly Juice

Tuesday--day 1 of the exam. We were told we HAD TO have our laptops set up and ready to go in the exam room by 8:15 a.m., otherwise we would not be able to use them. So, I show up at 7:30 a.m., when registration begins, and find myself at the back of this huge throng of people.

It takes a half hour to get up to the front of the line, where I am finally able to register. I walk up to the registration table and reach into my purse for my wallet. No wallet. I smile at the nice lady and continue searching through my bag. Nope. My wallet is definitely not in there. Begin inner dialogue: This is so weird. WTF? I know I had my wallet when I got into the ramp. I never lose my wallet. I never never never lose my wallet. Why did I get this new purse? It's too big, too many pockets. It's got to be in here, it's got to be in here, it's got to be in here... Nope. It is definitely not in there. The nice lady patiently waits as I dig through my purse, and it is clear that she is not going to hand over my registration badge unless I produce an ID. "I left my wallet in my car," I say. "I'll be right back." It is 8:08, and I fight my way backwards through the crush of people. My car is in the huge parking ramp across the street, so it is not going to be the speediest little wallet-fetching errand ever and it seems inevitable that I will miss that 8:15 computer set-up deadline. Resume inner monologue: Stay calm. It's in the car. You probably just put it in the center console after you paid for parking. Don't run, that will just make you panic. There are your friends, smile and wave, pretend everything is fine. Good girl. See, nothing is wrong. Do not panic do not panic do not panic. So, maybe you won't have time to set up your laptop. That's fine, you'll write your exam by hand just like they did in the olden days. Be cool be cool be cool...Okay, maybe it is okay to jog a little bit...yeah, go ahead and run. Okay, run. RUN!

I run to the passenger side of the Subaru and glance inside. No wallet. I jerk open the door and look on the seats, the floor, the center console. NOTHING. Suddenly I am taking difficult, sharp, shallow breaths. My heart pounds. I look under the seats, the backseat. I dump out every bag in the car and frantically sift through their contents. I am tearing through everything in the car (which, incidentally, was recently cleaned--mostly). Resume inner monologue: This is not happening. Is this happening? Is this REALLY happening? This is not my life. This does not happen to Anna P. I am responsible. I am organized. I don't lose my wallet. My purse was not zipped, is it possible someone stole it? Did someone find it and turn it in? [Breathing becomes even more difficult, I feel like I might actually throw up.] I'M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO TAKE THE BAR EXAM! HOLY SHIT, I AM NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO TAKE THE BAR EXAM. Okay, don't panic. Don't panic. Shhhhh... Stay calm. You'll figure this out. FIGURE WHAT OUT, CALM INNER VOICE? YOU ARE SO NAIVE!!!! MAYBE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE BUT OUR F***ING ID IS MISSING AND WE ARE GOING TO BE WATCHING HARRY POTTER THIS AFTERNOON WHILE ALL OF OUR FRIENDS ARE TAKING THE BAR EXAM AND WE ARE GOING TO LOSE OUR JOB AND WILL HAVE TO WAIT TABLES FOR THE NEXT SIX MONTHS UNTIL WE ARE ABLE TO TAKE THE FEBRUARY BAR EXAM AND Shhhhhhh... don't panic. For Christ's sake, you are just freaking yourself out. Do not panic. Be calm. Just figure out how to fix this.

I survey the wreckage that is my Subaru. Since I've dumped all my bags, crap is everywhere, but there is no wallet anywhere. There is nothing that could substitute for an ID. Maybe Shad could race down here with my passport if I actually knew where my passport was. I close my eyes, attempt to control my breath, and try not to puke. Suddenly, Calm Inner Voice returns: Hey, maybe it's on the floor of the ramp somewhere? I immediately hit the floor and press my head to the ground to survey the whole expanse of the ramp and there--LAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!--on the floor of the parking ramp, near the driver's side of the car, is my wallet. Oh. My. God.

I grabbed it, raced back, and was able to register and get my computer set up by 8:22. Turns out they were not as hard-nosed about the 8:15 set-up as they initially purported to be. In the half hour before the exam I was able to control my racing heart and resume a normal breathing pattern. After that fiasco, the day proceeded splendidly.

The End

You know how sometimes, when something scary happens, the full weight of it doesn't hit you until you start to reflect on it later? Now, just thinking about the ordeal makes me feel like puking. I can't even believe that happened. When I was driving home after the exam, my body just turned cold, and I bit off all my fingernails for the first time in three months. I was just overcome with the weight of how incredibly awful things could have been. Yeach.

So, the official report on the bar exam is that it really wasn't that bad. The first part of the exam is called the MPT--they give you a case file and a "library," and you have an hour and a half to complete an assignment (say, writing a closing argument, drafting a will, etc.). The assignment was to write a memo analyzing the personal liability of of one member of an LLC for a tort committed by another member. There were two issues to address--liability and the nature of the tort. I could not have asked for a better question since this is the sort of thing I did every day at my job last year. None of the essays were particularly tricky: Property (Adverse Possession), Con Law (Establishment Clause, First Amendment stuff), Crim Law, Evidence, Wills, and Torts. I felt great after day one. Day two was the MBE, 200 multiple choice questions, and it suuuuucked. Everyone was feeling crummy about it, though, so that made me feel a little bit better. The questions were really tricky and maddening--often there are two good answers and you have to pick the one that is more right than the other one. I have such a hard time with multiple choice. I think the thing that freaks me out the most is that I know it is actually possible to get zero points on a multiple choice test. At least on the essays, they might give you one point for writing something legible on the paper.

We sat at tables of eight for the exam. Since 88% of people pass, the first thing to do is look down the row and pick out the one who is going to fail. There was a dude two seats down from me who looked like kind of a blockhead. So hopefully he was the dunce in our row, and not me. Me, I am just scatterbrained and irresponsible.

Bar Exam Time Is Here!

Tomorrow is the big day! I'm feeling surprisingly good. Calm, confident, happy. With only occasional (but very, very acute) pangs of intense panic and terror. I am going to spend the day relaxing, reading my (non-law-related) book, and basically resting my brain. Mike and I had a great time at the cabin. I studied a ton, but it was the good type of studying--the kind that takes place on a floatie raft, with feet digging into the sand, and/or lounging on the back deck in a comfy chair. And interspersed with kayak rides, tasty meals, stargazing, and gimlets. All in all a dreamy way to spend what I expected to be a very intense few days.



One of the best parts of the weekend was when my family--my parents, grandma, Kate, Sarah, Mary, and The Adorable Niece--drove up (Mike's cabin is about 45 minutes from my parents' home) on Saturday and took us out for a nice long lunch. It was so great to see them. Especially You Know Who:



Let's hope the Bar Exam Fairies pick my favorite essay subjects. I am poised to conquer Con Law, Crim Pro, Torts, and Evidence. I am ready to thrash about in a sea of vague competence in every other subject. Except Corporations, which I am just hoping will not show up at all.

So...think of me the next two days. Essays on Tuesday, multiple choice on Wednesday. If you'd like to show some solidarity, I invite you to spend both days at the bar of your choice, from 9 - 4:30 each day.

Contracts, Property

These two are the suckiest

Too many dumb rules

Minneapolis Public Libraries Resolve To Make Ugly Juice's Life More Difficult Than It Needs To Be

I'm feeling kinda whiny (what's new, I know) because I just requested a bunch of books that I intend to take to Mexico with me next Saturday, and the library system cut me off at 20 requests. This has happened before so I was expecting it, but I'm really annoyed this time. Twenty requests is not enough. I really really need these books. I know I can't read twenty books in three weeks, but still. I like to have options. There is no reason for them to treat me this way; I only have $14.10 in outstanding fines. In fact I have been a truly upstanding library patron for at least six months. Actually I believe the library system is making a special effort to get under my skin. I requested Michael Chabon's new book, The Yiddish Policeman's Union, approx five months ago. There were something like 200 requests outstanding at the time. I patiently waited and waited and waited for my turn to come. It finally comes in last week. WTF? How could I have such bad luck? The three weeks in my life when I have the least time to devote to pleasure reading...and it is certainly not going to be renewable. And God forbid I go to Barnes & Noble and pick up my own copy for twenty bucks. IRRITATING.

Anyway.

I am fleeing to Mike's cabin for a super study weekend. He just bought a new canoe so perhaps we will take teeny little breaks here and there... Man, I can't wait to be done with this crap.

Student Can't Decide Which Bullshitty Question is Bullshittiest

I don't have the time to re-type all of the possible contenders for bullshittiest question. I have narrowed it down to three.

1) Recording statutes + long list of conveyances, reconveyances, bad faith purchasers, bona fide purchasers dying intestate, etc. some of whom do and some of whom do not record and some who record, but in the middle of a chain of bullshitty conveyances.

2) All of the above, plus there are mortgage holders and assignees who may or may not record.

3) Battle of the Forms.

Here is my favorite bullshitty question today:

On March 1, Armani mailed Bashford a written letter offering to sell a specified quantity of shirts at list price. Bashford received Armani's offer on March 2. The next day Bashford mailed Armani a letter of rejection. Bashford then changed his mind and decided to accept Armani's offer. On March 5 Bashford mailed a letter of acceptance to Armani. On March 4, Armani sent Bashford a letter revoking his original March 1 offer. On March 6 Armani received Bashford's
accceptance. On March 7 Bashford received Armani's letter of revocation. The following day, Armani received Bashford's rejection.

Armani refuses to sell the shirts to Bashford. If Bashford sues for breach of contract, judgment
for whom?

(a) Bashford, because he mailed his acceptance before receiving notice of Armani's revocation.
(b) Bashford, because Armani received his acceptance before receiving notice of Bashford's rejection.
(c) Armani, because Bashford mailed his rejection before depositing his acceptance.
(d) Armani, because he mailed his revocation before receiving notice of Armani's acceptance.
(e) They should both be shot.

In better news, new pics of The Adorable Niece have arrived! I wish I was hanging out with her instead...

Minneapolis Woman Spends Another Exciting Day Grappling With Finer Points of Commerce Clause (No, Not Shopping)

It's a beautiful day here in the Twin Cities and I can't think of a way I would rather spend it than sitting on my patio drinking a whole pot of Nicaraguan and studying Constitutional Law. I endured two days of intense grouchiness earlier this week, but I got ahold of myself. Now my spirits are high and I've got a big ol' party in my brain featuring exciting guests like L/T, FQ, sm jx, PP, SH dv st, EqP, RAP and the like. It helps to have a lovely patio on which to study, and even better to know that the next door neighbors are going camping this week, so things will be relatively quiet. And whenever I need some additional inspiration to keep going, I think of Isla Mujeres, where Geoff, Summ, and I will be disappearing to (with a suitcase full of books, booze, and scuba gear) for two weeks right after the bar:



I tried out a delicious new recipe yesterday that will help you use up all those green beans that are popping up in your garden right now. It's quick and really easy.

Green Bean and Fennel Salad

· 1/2-1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard (to your taste)
· 2 Tablespoons white wine vinegar
· 3/4 teaspoon sea salt
· 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
· 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
· 1 lb. green beans, trimmed
· 1/2 small fennel bulb, thinly sliced
· 1/2 cup walnuts, toasted
· 2-oz goat cheese, crumbled

Place the mustard, vinegar, salt and pepper in a jar with a screw-top lid. Shake to combine. Add the olive oil to the jar and shake again to emulsify. Pour water into a large saucepan, add some salt and bring the water to a boil over high heat. Add the beans and cook for 6-8 minutes, or until just tender. Drain and run under cold water. Put the beans, fennel, and most of the walnuts in a bowl. Reserve some walnuts for garnish. Add some of the vinaigrette (you'll have extra vinaigrette) and toss to combine. Arrange the beans on a platter. Sprinkle with the goat cheese and reserved walnuts and serve.

Spouse Lands Sweet Job Working on Fun TV Show

My spouse sings to me. Constantly. Sweet, silly, imaginative songs, almost always in perfect rhyme, celebrating or ribbing my mood, outfit, digestive system, etc. Even after nearly six years, these daily serenades reduce me to giggles. I look forward to sharing these private performances with our future children; he is going to be such a fun dad someday.

I share the above to help explain the excitement in our house--Shad's company is working on a fun new kids' show called Yo Gabba Gabba that is premiering on Nick Jr. on August 20, 2007. This is such a great show--in the vein of Sesame Street and Pee Wee's Playhouse, it is cute, high-energy, and geared towards preschool-aged kids. The design and tone of the show is right up his alley and I'm really proud (and maybe a teensy bit jealous) of him for landing such a perfect project. Check out a trailer of the show here. And if you have kids, tune in!

I particularly love this one (unfortunately the quality of this one is not so great because it's recorded from TV but check it out anyway).

Why does my kitty sound like a cheap plastic life raft that is slowly deflating?

Spouse Declares Cognac Cherries "Not The Worst Thing Ever"

Those backwards compliments are tricky little buggers, aren't they? I bought a CSA share this summer, and I'm loving it. I have never eaten so well. Every Thursday I pick up a bag of veggies picked fresh from my farmer's garden that morning. There's always a nice bunch of salad greens, fresh herbs, and then whatever has popped up that week--green onions, radishes, carrots, etc. Sometimes we get a ridiculously tiny amount--like, last week we got just one beet.

I love beets. But, on to the point of my story:

Last week a pack of tart cherries arrived in the share. I decided to throw them in a jar, cover them with sugar, fill the jar with brandy, and then stick it in a dark cool closet, turning every couple of days. But, when I reached for the brandy, I realized I didn't have any. So I filled the jar with cognac instead. Four days passed, and I thought a taste test was in order. Gross. The cherries taste like medicine. Shad thought I was too hard on myself and assured me they were "not the worst thing ever"... but I doubt he'll reach for a second helping anytime soon. I need to palm them off on somebody. Preferably someone who doesn't read this blog. And if they make a face I will ridicule them for not having refined taste. Yesssss.... Wait. No. I have a better idea. These cherries will be a perfect addition to a cocktail. I must go to my laboratory and investigate...

UPDATE: OMG, I have created the tastiest cocktail ever. Unfortunately, you can only make it if you have my special cherries.

Ugly Juice's Tasty Cognac Cherry Cocktail

1.5 oz. Cognac
4.5 oz. Cranberry juice
6-10 premium cognac-and-sugar-infused tart cherries

Muddle cherries, shake all ingredients, pour over ice, garnish with orange peel.

Juice Gets Glimpse of the Imminent Future and It Is Grim, Very Grim

At 8:15 Saturday morning, I joined a few hundred earnest young people in an enormous gymnasium in St. Paul and we spent the next two days undergoing a simulated bar examination. Obviously I don't have the results from the essay portion back yet, but I did peek at the model answers and I think I can fairly say that I performed abysmally at best. Ditto for the multiple-choice portion, in which I got--ahem--97 out of 200 answers correct. So, I have decided to um, start studying. I have about three weeks to cram some serious knowledge in my brain. I'm not panicking. Really. I'M! NOT! P-P-P-PANICKING! (But just in case, I am going to pick up some employment applications at a few local restaurants.)

To take my mind off the bleakness of the next few weeks, in which I will be studying approximately all day every day, Shad and I are flying to New York City early Wednesday, and are going to spent the next five days driving around New England. It has been a long time since we took a vacation together and we're both pretty psyched to get away for awhile.

Friday night Summ, jL, Abby, and I saw Barack Obama speak in Minneapolis. I have been formulating my reasons for supporting him ever since I slapped that Obama sticker on my Kia last week and here's what I've got: I think I agree with him on most issues, particularly health care, I like that he is not carrying the political baggage that Hillary is, he's charismatic and smart and driven, and frankly, I am just really taken by his message of hope. If that is not enough, jL says it is acceptable to vote on good looks alone. Last week I was listening to "The Audacity of Hope" while sewing. Obama narrates the book, and after a few hours, I felt like he was sitting on the couch right there in the Sky Lounge hanging out with me. I almost asked his advice on whether I should put in a waistband, cut on the bias, is the skirt too short?, etc.

The dress in question, below, was for Dan & Kelly's wedding, which took place last Saturday. I was going for a sort of a flirty vintage cocktail dress look. The second picture (unfortunately not very good) shows the rhinestone pin I used on the bodice--it was a gift from Shad's grandma.







(And...here's the latest picture of my adorable niece with her brother Dawson.)