So impressive, yet still somewhat depressing

Fresh is winning the war on dating. So far.

Pink roses? Really? Nice.

Oh baby, it's 1, 2, 3...

Monday noteworthies:

* Peeps are back. I bought my first (of many, I'm sure) boxes tonight, and for the record, lavender peeps are my favorite. In my world, Peeps signal spring, and I love love love spring *. I am so excited, I could just peep.

* Rugby shirts and minivans can be absolutely sexy... if you're the right kind of person.

* I was balls to the wall productive today. I stayed late to finish a project that fascinated me, and I didn't mind putting in the extra hours one bit. I met with one of the partners on my way out, and he chuckled at my enthusiasm. These little things make me so grateful and happy to finally be practicing law in the way I always imagined I eventually would.

* Is there really a difference between "provocative" and "evocative"?

* I recently experienced one of the best martinis of my life (not Monday noteworthy, but I didn't want the point to get lost in the fray, and it is noteworthy). Vodka (gin substitute) martini, with apricot brandy, splash of vermouth, dash of grenadine, shaken with a fresh rose petal on top. An American Beauty from Club Soda. It was beautiful, sexy and tasty.

* I've had Ready For The World's "Oh Sheila" in my head all day. oh Sheila oh oh oh... God love the 80s and corrupt girlfriends.

* Multiple past blog links, if you're so inclined.

Sometimes one smile means more than a dozen roses?

I left the office last Thursday afternoon around 3, and I took Friday off. I did not come into the office at all over the weekend, though I lugged home a bag of documents, half of which are still spread out across the empty side of my bed after having fallen asleep while working last night.

When I got into the office this morning, my desk was covered with items from Thursday afternoon and Friday - letters waiting for signature, pleadings to file, projects to do. I just got to the bottom of the pile, and there at the bottom taped to my desk next to my calendar was a note. The note is from the inside wrapper of a Dove dark chocolate, which I keep in my candy dish. It says "Sometimes one smile means more than a dozen roses."

A few points of interest about the note: First, no one has claimed it, though I've asked the most likely culprits. Second, whoever taped it on my desk did so with a vengeance. They taped it down with three pieces of packing tape, rather than the scotch tape in my desk. And third, is someone trying to tell me to smile at them, or that they smile at me but I don't notice because maybe I prefer flowers, or what exactly is the point of taping it to my desk? What kind of message is this, anyway??

The fact that I'm questioning a perfectly sweet, innocent note is probably why I'm sleeping with documents instead of a man.

Don't quote me

This morning:
Paralegal: Do you have her file?
Amanda: Um, no. Well, I have part of her file on my desk. Wait, I don’t think I have her file. Um, yeah, no.
Paralegal: So do you have it or not?
Amanda: Damn, I don't know. Who's file is it again?

Overheard at lunch from a young female attorney:
"Well, that was right before he touched my cooter..." I didn't know "cooter" was back in vogue. Not very classy, but lots of fun to say.

A fresh perspective on my job:
"And remember, somewhere in the world right now, a person is wearing a rubber glove that goes up to their shoulder, and they are spending their entire day inseminating cows. You aren’t that person." So true.

My advice for today:
Being late to work because you were trying to fit all your items from a tote bag into a cute pink purse is not an excuse you should use with the managing partner.

What gives a girl power and punch? Is it charm, is it poise? No, it's hairspray!

I want a product that makes my hair smell good all day into the night. I recently tried Aveda Rosemary Mint shampoo and conditioner, but after about 2 weeks I'm starting to feel like a culinary experiment. I don't expect a product to do battle with the occasional cigarette smoke or various other smelliness, but get me through the end of the day, please, without smelling stale.

I'm now taking suggestions.

I realize this might be my most pathetic post ever. Told you I was low on blogging inspiration.

U don't have to be cool 2 rule my world...

My friend Mel knit me a kickass throw for my birthday to replace the one that sheds red fuzzy threads all over my cream furniture. I love it, and the thought she put into it goes without saying. This morning, I folded it and placed it over the back of the sofa on top of Milo's blanket, thinking he might like the extra height to enhance his view from the back of the sofa out the patio door. When I got home tonight, he had pulled the throw down and peed on wooden corner of the sofa, I suspect in protest because every now and then he does that when he gets pissed off about something. At least he didn't piss on the throw.

In other pissy news, Fresh had a hot date this past weekend, which I found mildly depressing because I enjoy his dating (mostly lack thereof) rants. Good for Fresh, though I question whether he can get to date three without screwing things up.

No charm in round three

I just spent 20 minutes giving relationship advice to our controller, who embarked on his third marriage six months ago. Clearly, I was winging my end of our little therapy session, but he seemed happier when he left my office than when he arrived. I think I validated his suspicion that his new wife is just as crazy as his last two. Scary.

Stir it up, little darlin'

I woke up this morning all fired up. Not sure what that's all about, but I'm not complaining. People I've come into contact with this morning (like the incompetent teenage barrista at the Keystone Starbucks that I had a few words with) are probably complaining, but I am not.

I saw a mouse in my garage this morning, and I am at a complete loss for what to do about it. I don't care so much that the mouse is in the garage, but I absolutely do not want the mouse in my house. I'm not particularly scared of mice, but I'd prefer not to live with them, either. However, I don't think I can put a bunch of those traps out in the garage. It seems so cruel to snap the life out of a mouse with those crazy traps, and I am not sure I'll be able to clean up the dead aftermath without some emotional trauma. Rat poison seems a bit more humane, but it is out of the question because of Milo. I suppose I could call an exterminator person to take care of the problem, but won't I still be left with dead mice to deal with after the exterminator leaves? Ugh. For a fleeting moment as I watched the little sucker scurry into the cold morning, I wished I had a husband (boyfriend, lover, hot neighbor) to deal with this particular problem. The husband moment didn't last long. I'll call my dad later on. Surely he'll know what to do.

I'm at work now, and it's so quiet. No mice, no teenage barristas, no people to bother with my loud Bob Marley. I'm wasting perfectly good energy here in my office, so I'm going to leave shortly and go stir up something more fun.

Garden Weasel

This Yorkie was being prepped for the Westminster dog show earlier this week. And I thought I had a high-maintenance morning routine...

Considering my options

I think I'd make a pretty decent phone sex operator or steamy romance novelist.

* This thought has nothing to do with the previous post, though if Harold could actually hear me, he might agree.
* These options would not make my parents very proud.

Color my underpants important

I have been working with a client who is very old, very hard of hearing, and very sweet. I typically talk to both he and his wife at the same time (each on a phone extension at their home), and Martha almost always scolds Harold for not turning up his hearing aid. I always have to shut my door when he calls me.

This morning, he's called three times. The last time the call came through to my office, our receptionist was laughing. I asked her what was so funny, and she told me that when Harold calls our main line and she answers the phone, he simply says, "Amanda?! Amanda?!" as if it might actually be me on the other end of the line.

How precious is that?

Pretty in pink

Happy Birthday, Aquarius!

Aquarius
The Water Carrier
January 21 to February 19

Traditional Aquarian Traits
Friendly and humanitarian
Honest and loyal
Original and inventive
Independent and intellectual

On the dark side....
Intractable and contrary
Perverse and unpredictable
Unemotional and detached

LIKES
Fighting for Causes
Dreaming and Planning for the Future
Thinking of the Past
Good Companions
Having Fun

DISLIKES
Full of Air Promises
Excessive Loneliness
The Ordinary
Imitations
Idealistic

I don't put too much stock in atstrology, but for what it's worth, my personality does tend to be more Aquarian than say, Aries or Libra. I'd like to think I'm friendly and loyal and independent. I'm not particularly inventive, though. As for my dark side, I'll agree that I can be contrary and unpredictable and even a bit perverse, but I'm hardly unemotional, especially these days. I love fighting for causes, and my friends mean the world to me. And I don't like empty promises or imitations.

This past year has been one of my better years. Even though I miss the carefree, wild days of my 20s, I prefer my 30s. I appreciate the self-awareness and maturity that comes with being 30-something, though I'm not always a shining example of either characteristic. But I am at a good place in my life, so turning 33 today is not such a bad thing.

I hope I still feel the same way 10 years from now.

Note to self

I'm getting too old to party like a rock star.

I don't make this stuff up

The following e-mail was in my inbox this morning, sent to the entire firm from the guy in charge of office supplies:

Everyone seems to be doing a good job at signing for what supplies they have taken; however there are 2 highlighters and 1 Black marker unaccounted for. If you are the one who needed these, please let me know. Once again thanks for those who are co-operating.

And you wonder why I make fun.