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I currently have the misfortune to be in Utah County. Actually I shouldn't be so mean about it -- we are here to visit my Grandpa in the hospital, and there are actually some really lovely things around such as the mountains, the run path along the river that is two steps from my hotel door, and so on. But Grandpa lives in a tiny, tiny town called Payson, and there is one thing that is a consistent issue on visits to Payson (that I never noticed as a child), and that thing is COFFEE.

Oh, coffee. Now, while Payson is definitely coming up in the world, having now four or five stoplights instead of just the one it had when I was a young 'un, it still has a tendency to lack a few things. Once I was an adult I started realizing this. While going to the one bar in town at night can have its charms, there is nothing charming whatsoever about being without coffee in the morning. It did not help things any that my grandpa drinks instant. Instant?! Sigh. Other choices include the truck stop, the McDonalds...well, you get the picture.

I loved when I had a rental car of my own here; I would conveniently find all sorts of urgent errands that would take me 15 minutes down the highway into Provo/Orem where there are things like Borders! Barnes & Noble! and even this past decade a Starbucks! near the University Mall. But I don't always have control over transportation...or let's say it's a somber family event, then one is frowned upon if one is freaking out too much about one's preferred caffeine.

Well, a couple of my cousins from Southern California (hello) understand me, and last summer when we were all here for the summer gathering of the flock, one of them called me at Grandpa's one morning to breathlessly announce that she was standing in front of a brand new Starbucks IN PAYSON! Joy! Rapture! The heavens opened up! I drank grande iced lattes the next three days in a row. In Payson. Truly a miracle.

Now here we are and this afternoon we left my grandpa's Payson hospital room for a bit to check on his house, etc. I took the rental car and headed over to the Starbucks (located next to the Walmart, but I just try to ignore it) and MUCH to my dismay I see that it is not open today. What?!! Granted, things in Utah County have a very frustrating tendency to be closed on Sundays but really??? Starbucks? I parked the car because I could see some sort of typewritten sign in the window, so I went to investigate.

Folks, I kid you not. It said, "In anticipation of the upcoming closure of this store" (no!!! recession or not can't you just hang on!!!) "our summer reduced hours will be Mon-Fri 7 a.m. to such-and-such, closed on Saturday and Sunday." Sigh. So that's why it was closed today, and I was definitely out of luck. And what a tragedy that it will apparently be entirely gone by my next visit. But just to add insult to injury, the sign continued, "We encourage you to visit our nearest other locations, at 555 or whatever E University Parkway in Orem" -- yeah, my previous invented-errand-go-to that I don't have time to hit this afternoon -- "or at such-and-such South Whatever in Cedar City."

Um, excuse me? Cedar City? That's only like three and a half hours south of here. More than halfway to Vegas. Hello! No wonder this location is closing, I thought, if its management can't think to edit this corporate-spewed sign of the next closest locations to the north and south, even if the south location is hours away ... And then I realized the true tragedy that probably half their market DID consist not of morning commuters but of freeway stopovers who spotted that beloved green logo and pulled off of I-15. Drivers who would in fact hunker back down, never having expected to stop in Payson, maybe never even remembering that there was a Payson, and note to their selves that there'd be a Venti frap awaiting them in Cedar.

Payson may be able to sustain a Walmart and multiple stoplights now, but when it comes to addictive coffee culture it's still just a no-horse town.

Southwesterly

Happy July! Brian and I have just returned from our six-day journey through a couple of places that were either tried-and-true faves (me) or brand new adventures (him). A good time was had by all. Where, you ask? The Vegas and the Angeles, of course! We started by renting a car last Tuesday and driving to Vegas, taking advantage of an internet-procured $19 room in the center of the Strip. Granted there was the whole Monday-through-Thursday aspect to consider, but it was nonetheless decidedly cheap and also a little sad, recessionally speaking. Then we headed to L.A. Wednesday night and stayed there through the 4th of July.

I had not been back to L.A., really, for YEARS. Since I moved away, in fact! I was in California one time since then, for my cousin's wedding in northern San Diego County, but although I flew into L.A. I basically only lunched and spent two seconds there and definitely did not get to check out the old stomping grounds or, you know, reflect. Nostalgically. This trip I did a lot of nostalgic reflecting.

Conclusion? I still like Los Angeles. I am not even going to get into dealing with the naysayers who "don't like" that city, because most of them have not been there. I have never encountered with any other city such vast numbers of people who have not been there but nonetheless feel qualified to comment on it. Also, of course, Los Angeles is a city that is one thing when you first get there and then quite another after you have been there a year or two. Those of us who have lived there always try to tell people they cannot, they MUST not, make a final judgment about it based on Year One, although regrettably some of them do, and leave, never to know the glorious goodness of it that comes with settling in. Can you imagine judging the entirety of high school -- or college, for that matter -- based on freshman year? Horrors!

The point is, I can very very very easily see myself moving back there. Soon. This is entirely bizarre, mostly because that would mean I am not going to live in a new city, and everybody knows I want to go live in a new city. (Now, but also always.) However, I have a possible new city job in the works that would come to fruition in a while, like maybe a year or so, which means I could be somewhere for the interim, and that somewhere could happily be Los Angeles, as far as I'm concerned at the moment.

This time around we stayed in Manhattan Beach and I tried to cover the basics with Brian: USC, Westwood, Venice, Santa Monica, El Cholo, Swingers, Tito's, Mulholland Drive, Hollywood, Beverly Hills, the Sunset Strip. We also randomly ran a 5K in Redondo Beach on Saturday and then spent the afternoon of the 4th feasting our eyes on the Hermosa Beach humanity in their various stages of celebration/inebriation. Plus we took a quick dip in the Pacific Ocean, of course.

Now back in Phoenix, our task is to continue to organize, work, and save money while we plot our next big move. My favorite!

Off with her head covering!

I hereby provide a link to an article from the ABA Journal about a recent Michigan Supreme Court ruling that gives judges the power to require witnesses to remove head or facial coverings in their courtrooms. Sounds simple enough, you say? Well, as with many things, this controversy started because of an illogical and unfair request masquerading as "religious freedom."

The ACLU, with whom I have been known to agree more often than not but not this time, wanted the aforementioned Michigan Rule of Evidence giving judges that power to contain an exception for religious dress. Why? This all started when a Muslim woman brought a small claims lawsuit, refused to remove her religious veil so the judge could see her face, and then had her lawsuit dismissed.

I took Religion and the Constitution for about three weeks this last semester of law school before I had to drop it for life schedule reasons. Those were three of the most interesting weeks of my life. It helped that the professor is a genius who doesn't take shit from whiny law students (of which there are many), but the material itself is always fascinating. People asserting their so-called Constitutional rights to freedom of religion are some of the most logically flawed people on Earth -- and I have serious doubts as to whether any of them have read our Founding Fathers' document, let alone understood it.

The plain and simple fact is that often -- as is the case here -- your religious beliefs are irrelevant. I don't care if they are protected, marginalized, nearly universal, offensive, or what. They are just irrelevant. The judge needs to see your face, s/he makes a rule about attire in the courtroom, you BRING A LAWSUIT availing yourself of said courtroom -- well, guess what? Take off your stupid veil.

Yes, I called it a stupid veil. It is stupid. It is also not a holy, divine, required thing, despite what some people will tell you. The Muslim veil, in particular, is totally misunderstood in the West, but those who've read my blog for a while know that I am fascinated by head coverings in all religions. Jewish, Catholic, Sikh, Mormon ... there are so many religions that have this weird fetish with covering (or shaving) the head, and I can never get any sort of an answer as to why. I mean, I can never get any sort of an answer that actually answers the question when I ask why. I sigh, realizing yet again that religious people tend to not be terribly concerned with logic when they answer questions; it's such a shame. Why not have a logical discussion about covering the head when you go to Mass, or go into the temple? Is there something wrong with having a logical discussion about it? We can analyze all kinds of things in this society: sports, news events, consumer behavior, traffic violations. But if I analyze a religious tradition it's infringing on some "right" you have to your belief? I don't think so!

Furthermore, let us not let the word "veil" obscure the fact that this woman's covering hid not just her scalp and hair, but her face.

Rules exist in society because that is how we have and maintain a society in the first place. I have no patience for people who insist upon religious exceptions to the rules. Screw that. If it's OK for you to have an exception, then everyone should get an exception and we should get rid of the rule. In this case, Michigan is not getting rid of the rule, and you have to take off your veil if you want to testify in court. Just as I have to take off my baseball cap or ski mask. Hurrah!

I am so proud of the Michigan Supreme Court, and I roll my eyes at the two dissenters.

Adventures

So about this whole not-taking-the-bar-exam thing: I find it really funny how quickly law school has gone out-of-sight-out-of-mind for me. Every day I read messages or status updates from (former) classmates who are back in New York slogging through their bar review courses, and each time I have to sort of remind myself that a mere fifty or sixty days ago I was right there with them, in that elitist club of misery known as law school, staring at computer screens and cases and cites and convoluted phrases, questioning my sanity. And now here I am in the Southwest desert, a place that will always be home for me on many levels no matter how far I roam, and the whole law school thing just seems so far, far away.

But the thing is, I don't think it's just the physical distance from Long Island that makes Hofstra seem so far off. It's not that. It's more like driving down a freeway. Everyone is going 65 or 70 mph, and I took an exit. They are out of sight and off in the distance in mere seconds.

This would probably be a good time to have some profound looking-back-on-all-I've-learned kind of moment, but it's really not that simple, nor that grandiose. But I am trying to regroup, recharge, and rethink what to do next. Those who knew me three years+ ago, which is most of my adoring fans? I think, should recall my m.o.: always thinking about what could be next, always dreaming about what's around the corner, always listing a dozen adventures that I want to pursue in the next year and then kind of letting them fall and float and sift through themselves until something emerges on top.

As for the practical realities, Brian and I did have to move out of our adored Brooklyn 'hood and our lovely Box It Up existence, at least for the summer. That was a funding issue, not an all-out rejection of New York City. However, I am considering being employed elsewhere this fall, with the usual chief contenders: Washington D.C. (the city to which I've always meant to move, although I keep accidentally moving to other East Coast cities instead), Chicago (the obvious choice, it seems, after stints in Los Angeles and New York), San Francisco (California - swoon! - but still a place I haven't lived), and Abroad (just in general - more on that in a second). Of course those top choices are followed by my favorite destination: anywhere!

I have a certain freedom I haven't had in a while. I want to throw a dart at the map and move to the city where it lands. There are two things stopping me from doing exactly that tomorrow: 1)I don't have a car, so I have to either move to a public transportation city or wait until I buy a car and then fling that dart 2)I'm not certain Brian wants to throw a dart. At least not literally. He's adventurous and tries new things (such as Ethiopian food - more on that in a second, too) but he is slightly more meticulous than just literally throwing a dart. But I would do it literally, see. I really would. Maybe I will throw the dart, just for amusement's sake, the same way I take Facebook quizzes about "What ___ suits you best?" You know, just to see what the dart oracle has to say.

Meanwhile, back to those thats about which I promised more in a second... OK, Destination Abroad. I am definitely thinking about living abroad again, which would then coincide nicely with my plan in which I give myself permission to move back to California only if I first live abroad again for an entire year. While I am fully aware that the next item on my Life's Things to Do List after "Teach English in Asia" and "Go to law school" is "Join the Peace Corps," that one is also sort of simmering on the back burner for some of the reasons mentioned above but also because I am leaning more towards working abroad and not just volunteering. What I mean by that of course is earning more than just a volunteer's stipend. I am still very pro-Peace Corps, though, hence the simmering. But I would not mind a job abroad and to that end, I have taken the Foreign Service exam, and am waiting to hear if Hillary wants to hire me to re-establish diplomatic relations with Cuba (that is, if I passed the written test and get to move on to the next stage). I am all kinds of ready to get hired by the State Department and have my first gig at an overseas post. I just need them to see that they really want to hire me.

About the trying new things, such as Ethiopian food. Today Lesley (my sister), Brian and I went out to lunch at Taste of India, our go-to Indian lunch buffet restaurant when I come to Phoenix. Well, at least ever since our first go-to Indian lunch buffet restaurant closed down. Lesley and I both adore Indian food, and Lesley is surrounded here by people who won't eat it, such as her husband, his entire family, our parents, her kids, and so on. When I come to town, we make it a point to go eat it. Yum! Of course, Brian also likes Indian food so now that he is also here in Phoenix, we all went as a trio. While we were there we got to talking about the adventure of trying new cuisines. My sister and I have long been known to seek out the various ethnic restaurants in Phoenix (that's how we discovered our love for Indian food), and on two of my recent trips here we sampled an Ethiopian restaurant near ASU and the simply and to-the-pointly titled Baghdad Food. We were telling Brian about those places as well as some of the places we went in high school/college when we first began sampling all Phoenix has to offer, and then Lesley shared a story.

One of Lesley's nephews who went on a mission to West Africa and served in Togo, Benin, Ivory Coast, and maybe another country or two, I forget what all she said. Probably Ghana, since it's right in the middle of the countries I just mentioned. Anyway, he came back after two years doing West Africa things and a little while ago he was here in Arizona among my brother-in-law's large, Mormon, somewhat sheltered family. Not all of them, and not totally sheltered, but, well, yeah. Somewhat sheltered. So returned missionary nephew found a market in Phoenix somewhere with all the African goods, bought the requisite ingredients and spices, and made some undoubtedly intriguing and possibly delicious dish he had learned to make while there. And what do you think happened? My sister and only about three others could be persuaded to even try it. UGH.

I mean, picky eaters are one thing. (My sister's kids, ages three and five, are kind of ridiculous on that score. But I harbor hopes that they will outgrow at least some of their picky tastes. They're young yet.) And avoiding, say, one item or maybe two is acceptable. Like being allergic to seaweed, for example. But this was actually more than that, and the more-than-that was my sister's point in telling us the story in the first place. Here was this giant family (my brother-in-law has lots of siblings and they all have kids, and his parents each has even more siblings, and so forth) and yet only a handful of people can shake off the fear of trying something exotic. That's the crux of this, and the thing that bugs me. Kids avoid trying new foods. Snobs avoid trying unhealthy or inorganic or whatever foods. But sheltered people avoid trying foods that they perceive to be exotic. But why?

No, really. Why?

If we accept such jingoism in our palates I don't suppose we should ever be surprised by any national belligerence in political attitudes, either.

On the Move

I am out of touch! Breathlessly, I check in with you my adoring fans to say I am in Michigan. We have cleared out of our beloved Brooklyn Box Street for at least the summer as we attempt to: 1)find jobs 2)find out what's next. Not a bad list of goals for the summer. Of course, moving proved to be a major pain, with much U-Hauling and best laid plans ganging oft agley, etc. Let's just say I am intimately acquainted with every Arby's between Toledo and the Delaware Water Gap.

But, we have been able to get in a few days of Michiganing, including the Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts (I think that's what it's called...it was really just referred to as Festival the whole time) which consisted of walking around downtown Grand Rapids eating and listening to live music. Perfect. Also I looked at some handbags in the arts and crafts tent and this reminds me that I need to just generally announce to the world: help! I want to buy a tiny Going Out Purse.

In my life I have had a few Going Out Purses, but all have eventually spread their wings to fly from the nest, either by being stolen off of my body in Cuba, or just by wearing out and reaching the end of their straps. My latest, greatest Going Out Purse gave up the ghost in Curacao or shortly thereafter. Here is what is required of a Going Out Purse: a small flat rectangle of a soft usually cloth material, slightly taller than it is wide (perhaps 4 x 6 or 4 x 7 inches?), with a long strap to be worn over the shoulder across the body with the purse part resting on the opposite hip, and generally one flap to close it with a snap, velcro, or other fastening, although I wouldn't be opposed to a zipper. I'm not entirely sure why I am unable to find a Going Out Purse right now, unless it may be due to the fact that lately everyone seems to be buying/carrying these atrocious, giant purses that are really bags masquerading as purses or possibly vice-versa. The only thing I like less than annoying, expensive, jeweled, leather handbags are giant, annoying, expensive, jeweled leather handbags. Ugh. Does no one want to meet my needs of a suitable Going Out Purse? Minimalist, hands free, lightweight, and just big enough for keys, phone, cash, i.d. and possibly some feminine goodies.

Enough about that! We also saw Lake Michigan today, as we spent last night and today at Brian's family's "cottage" in Holland. It's always good to see a Great Lake. After another day and a half here we will be jetting off to Phoenix to reclaim my desert soul, save some money, and visit the Grand Canyon, among other summer activities. (Such as, Brian reminded me just as I was about to publish this post, eating at In-N'-Out Burger!!!)

Megacheesesteaks

So I've been having some really weird and not just weird but also crazily vivid dreams over the last couple of weeks. In that sense, finishing law school is sort of like taking a malaria pill. All kinds of weird things have been happening in the dreams with travels, spiders, junior high teachers, mountainous roads, and more; thankfully, though, at least I seem to have stopped dreaming that either I or Brian has killed someone -- usually accidentally but always in some sort of compromising circumstance -- which I believe came from when I was watching episode after episode of Breaking Bad. Which is a fantastic show. We Netflixed the first season, of course, and then we recorded a bunch of season 2 but did not get all the way through it before we got rid of our cable stations. So I'm totally left hanging on how season 2 will end. Spoil not, please!

The thing about the weird dreams is that I am SO RELIEVED to wake up and figure out that whatever force with which I was contending no longer poses any threat to me. Bug dreams, that is always the case. Such a relief to get out of those. And the manslaughter ones were psychologically devastating to the point that it would take a while for me, even after waking, to realize that this guilt and terrible secret I was carrying inside were totally not based on reality. I find it so strange that dreams can affect my waking self that way.

It happens with minor threats, too, though. For example, earlier this week Brian and I went to Philadelphia for the day, which, yay! because hello, I had been there only once on a road trip and that SO briefly, as in, here let's-slow-the-car-and-watch-the-sunset-so we-can-kind-of-say-we-were-in-Philadelphia briefly. This time I actually SAW the city, which I loved (knew I would!) and I also finally saw the Liberty Bell. I had been pretty disappointed in myself for living a mere two hours down the road the past three years and never going there, but then again, I was hanging out with Long Islanders who have been known to call Pennsylvania "out West" so comparatively I didn't really feel guilty about anything to do with U.S. travel/geography at all. Here's an example of how much a Long Islander cares about the rest of the United States. This is a 100% true direct quote overheard by me on the Hofstra shuttle bus. The speaker was a dumb Hofstra student on her cell phone (double ugh): "So, he bought me a ticket to, like, I don't know. California or Colorado -- um, what's the one with all the mountains?" True story. Seriously.

So the other reason we went to Philly was for some authentic Philly cheesesteak (now that I am a lapsed vegetarian, I eat special meat on special occasions, occasionally), stemming from an incident LAST SUMMER in which we saw this fun documentary called This Is My Cheesesteak about four of the greatest places in the city to get the signature food. We even got t-shirts that say "This is my cheesesteak." This has been a long-simmering desire. Anyway, we saw the Liberty Bell, Independence Mall/Hall, City Hall, many streets, historical alleys, the river, a fun pub, and so forth, not to mention two of the best cheesesteak places (duh, one for lunch and one for dinner). The verdict -- I'm a fan of Pat's Famous Steaks, I gotta say.

What this means is that we walked and walked and walked and walked. I am a daily walker all around town and I was still tired after all the miles we walked in Philadelphia. Walking and walking and walking and cheesesteaking and walking and walking and walking some more. That night when we got home I was drifting off seconds after my head hit the pillow and apparently started dreaming right away (scientists, what gives?) because a few minutes later Brian was still talking to me but he woke me from a dream in which we were stuck in Philly. In the dream, we somehow couldn't get our return bus that night and were totally stressing finding somewhere to sleep there. But really we were home. I was so delighted that he asked me something to wake me up so that I could stop worrying about finding somewhere to sleep.

See, weird, right? I mean, it's no Nightmare on Elm Street or anything but it is totally starting to be a pain in the ass to deal with whatever thing it is I have to deal with in my dreams lately, and get all worked up, only to finally wake up and have wasted all that energy. Not that it's energy, exactly, in my dreams, but I'm finding myself kind of fatigued lately too, so maybe it is. Can you expend energy in your dreams? I have never really thought about this before. The mind boggles.

I can't let this blog entry end without giving props to the Megabus. I have taken it from New York to Washington D.C. (for our Supreme Court trip! Hi Ruth B G!) and Boston and now Philadelphia. It is the latest competitor to the Bolt Bus, Chinatown buses, and of course the dastardly Greyhound. The great thing about Megabus (and Bolt, but I'm finding it more available on the Mega) is that the earliest purchasers get their tickets for a dollar! One dollar! It all depends on availability, so if you're far enough in advance you can find several to many dollar seats on any given day; as it gets closer and the trips book up the prices can go up to $3, or $8, or maybe $15 or $18. I adore the Megabus. Basically, it cost Brian and me the same to go to Philly as the subway ride into Manhattan and back. Plus, many of their trips have double decker buses with headphone jacks to drown out annoying cell phone people and blue seats. Swoon!

Hi!

Well, it has been a while since I blogged. I guess that's what happens when one is busy graduating from law school! That's right, the deed is done. I am the proud owner of a J.D. I guess "owner" is all right to say, seeing as it came at a cost of tens of thousands of dollars -- much of which has actually not yet been paid, and is currently accumulating interest. Student loans -- gotta love 'em! But why dwell on that now? This is the grace period! A time for reflection, pride, joy, sense of accomplishment, and "HOLY CRAP DID I REALLY JUST GO TO LAW SCHOOL?!"

There have been so many amazing people supporting me in this law school endeavor and I am so glad that they (well, most of them) turned out to celebrate with a big party in our back yard on Saturday. Old friends, new friends, and good times around the grill! Then Sunday it was time for the actual ceremony, when more than a dozen tried and true friends and family members schlepped out to Hofstra on Long Island to witness the commencement. They were a fabulous cheering section.

The whole experience was kind of what I imagine and am told a wedding is like: so much is going on that it's actually hard to take it all in, and you have to remind yourself to concentrate on the things being said to commemorate the moment. And there are a zillion people from your past around and it's hard to find individual moments with them all, plus you find yourself saying the same thing over and over in response to the "So, what's next?" Also very wedding-like.

Despite the ups and downs of Hofstra (and more specifically, Long Island) life, I really enjoyed my graduation day. I like the law school dean and many of the professors, and I liked gathering with my friends and sitting there reveling in what we had all just accomplished. Senator Schumer was a nice surprise, too. And I like the pomp and circumstance.

Boy am I tired! Time for some rest ... but stay tuned to see what will be the next thrilling adventure!