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they're everywhere

Hey Nick, yeah, you with all the toys!

You know that fabulous little Italian restaurant where we three ate last night?





explaining that photo

The night that Georgia executed Troy Davis, I sat at home alone watching the twitter feed and trying to contribute to the facebook discussions. I was aware that for some people in my life, I was the only one they knew who had any understanding of the legal aspects.  Troy had substantial innocence claims, but no way to get them considered, so there was understandable outrage.  I saw it as an opportunity for the public to look under the hood of the legal system, and I wanted to help.  I believe that most reasonable people -- even those who support it in theory -- will oppose the death penalty if they take a good look at how it's done in fact.

But beyond the fascination about this shared online grieving, and the attempts to make a contribution to understanding, I was also really sad about Troy and his family, and the victim's family, and all the grief and loss and pain involved in every one of these cases.  I was also feeling lonely, which is rare for me.  And nervous:  I had law school and bar exam behind me, but was still waiting for results, and beyond that hurdle remained the terrifying prospect of actually doing this work, and whether I had what it took, both professionally and emotionally.

It was a warm evening, and I had the windows open.  I looked up to discover that I had company:


The little guy was such a surprise, and surprises are good for me.  They shake my thinking loose.  

That night, this little guy reminded me that there is always something unexpected, some crazy life encroaching, some humor if we look for it.  Also that I'm not in control.

He hung around most of the evening, but was gone when the execution was over and I went to bed.  The next morning I found him here, perched atop my possibly-possessed baby doll, Jeanie Baby.

Jeanie Baby is a world traveler.  She has those eyes that close when she's laid on her back.  Now she has cataracts.  I keep her around, along with Eric's large shoes by the front door, to scare away burglars.





City of Columbia Parks & Rec offers a great pottery program. Last weekend, a Raku workshop.


new website, new boots


Sung to the tune of Paul Simon's "The Boxer":

I am just a 1L though my story’s often told
I have squandered my mid-20’s
For a contract full of mumbles such are promises

Cold calls and jests, still the law hears what it wants to hear
And disregards the rest

Lie la lie…

Asking only 2L wages I come lookin for a job but I get no offers
Just a come-on from the clinics down by law review

I do declare there were times that I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie la Lie . . .

Now it’s May but I’m in winter clothes and wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York gorges winters aren’t bleeding me, leading me, going home.

In the autumn stands a lawyer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every class that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In the Commons or the Palms,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the bar exam still remains . . .

Lie la lie . . .