Steven used his American Eagle gift card yesterday at the mall. While he was trying on the shirt he ended up buying, I noticed something glorious. Now, I'm not one to notice things in a mall store beyond the loud, weird soundtrack and the teenyboppers everywhere (Dear Lord, I'm getting old...), but I just happened to glance at a display on the side wall, and there, to my utter disbelief, were nearly 50 pairs of the most adorable printed ballet flats I have ever seen. And people, they were $11 a pair.
Obviously I had no choice in the matter. They had to be bought.
And then they had to be worn. And we all know what new shoes can do to you. No pain, no fashion gain. (Ouch. See that?)
This morning was my court appearance in the courthouse-that-was-really-far-away. My apologies for the vagueness, but part of me is still scared of the deepest-reaches-of-the-internets-and-the-scary-folk-that-are-waiting-there-to-find-out-what-places-I-go-to-so-they-can-steal-my-identity-like-in-that-Sandra-Bullock-movie.
Anyways. So I'm at the Courthouse-Which-Will-Remain-Nameless, and guess who I saw! Ron Hur! Yay! He walked up to me, and I was looking down writing notes on my very professional and lawyerly-looking legal pad, and he goes, "Heather?" And I looked up and said, "Hey!!" And I promptly jumped up and gave him a big hug. Which I believe may have really really embarrassed him. Lots. Ron, if you read this by any chance: So sorry about that. Next time we will just shake hands like a professional public defender and civil litigator would do. Right? Right.
Once they opened the courtroom doors and everyone started walking into the courtroom, I headed up toward the front row. (There is an unspoken rule -- or maybe its spoken and I just didn't know about it until November-ish -- that only attorneys can sit in the front row of Virginia courtrooms.) I plopped down in the front row, my big red bag full of files and papers and my very-lawyerly legal pad. I started flipping through my folder to look at my docket list, and I started to feel people looking at me kinda funny. I looked up and realized that the rest of the front row had slowly filled up with the other attorneys. And they were all men. And they were all about 65 years old.
And they were all itching to say, "Excuse me, ma'am, but this row's reserved for the lawyers." :) It made me smile. But it made me nervous, too. I mean, I'm young, I'll be the first to admit it. Part of me thinks, hey, I put in the hours, I did all the schooling, I studied my brains out, I passed the bar, I can SO do this. But then the entire pew of 65-year-old men-in-suits stares me down, and suddenly I feel like I'm just some girl who posts pictures of her polka-dotted shoes on the internet. (Oh wait...)
The whole appearance only took like 15 minutes, and it felt good to be able to stand up and say good morning to the judge and prove that I was, in fact, sitting in the right row. :) Not that I'm trying to prove anything, but still....it was a good moment.
Back at home, my minimalist Christmas decor (read: the only thing I put up that was remotely Christmassy) is still up.
And Pringles says he needs a nap.
I'm trying to be virtuous and eat healthy, because that is what you are supposed to do in January.
But I bought snacks for the puppysitters, expecting them to eat it all up. And when they didn't finish off all of it, well...
A big glass of skim milk cancels these out, right?