So, I have already taken down the previous post, but if you saw it, you probably concluded that my judge has passed away. Your conclusion would be correct. He passed away last Thursday, visitation was on Sunday, and his memorial service was this past Monday.
Since the funeral, I have been experiencing several unexpected emotions. Most of all, I have been yo-yoing back and forth between sadness and a profound sense of numb. I am really surprised at myself for being so sad...during my clerkship, the judge had mostly worked at home, and I spent very little time with him. Despite the limited interactions we had, there was just something about him that made you feel close to him. He had a presence about him that almost instantly garnered respect and admiration, yet, he was also so likeable.
My sadness is also probably based on secondhand experiences, as all of his former clerks, past associates at the firm he founded, and many other legal colleagues adored and loved him. Being around all those people this past year, hearing their stories about their times with the Judge - I've soaked it in like a sponge, and now, I think part of my sadness is based on the realization that no one else, myself included, will have any new chapters to add to his legacy. Additionally, my fellow law clerk and his administrative assistant, two people who have become true friends in my life, really did have a familial relationship with the Judge. He served as a mentor/grandfather figure to my fellow clerk, and for 32 years, he has been a surrogate father to his secretary. They really are grieving his passage as if he was a member of their family, and both are really struggling with getting back into the office and facing his empty desk.
Yesterday, I came home from work, curled up in a ball, and just kind of existed. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to listen to music, watch TV, or surf the Web. After sitting/lying on the couch for an hour, I finally put on my tennies and took Betty for a long, cathartic walk. When I got home, I felt better and realized that Judge wouldn't want our lives to come to a stand still because we are sad. He certainly wouldn't want the office to falter because of his absence, and so now, that's what I'm trying to keep in mind...what would Judge want? Or for that matter, what would Judge do?
Today is a much brighter, happier day, and I've been very productive at work. Perhaps, Judge is smiling down on me.
Last week, before things got all crazy crazy 'round here, Diabolina tagged me to confess 6 embarrassing/TMI things about myself. Considering that I seem to do this on a daily basis anyway, I figured I should play along and give you even more fodder to later use against me! :)
It's no secret that I am a verbal vomitter. I've talked about it here (third post down) and here. Oh, and here. See what I mean? Anywho, I've always been a fan of too much information, mine, yours, and any poor celebrity that can't keep it in their pants.
After giving it a long, hard thought, I've come up with the following embarrassing facts about myself.
1. You all know that I am a piggy piggy. I love (and live) to eat. That explains why I have never been described as lithe or slender. Because if someone did say that, they would have to be either a) blind or b) lying or c) from this country. Of course, despite my love for food, I do try to have a healthy lifestyle. I limit my sugar and caffeine intake, I work out, and I make sure the Knight and I eat our veggies and fruits. BUT, I have a major weakness for one vice...put a bag of salty kettle chips and french onion dip in front of me, and I really can't stop. Something about the creamy, the oniony and the salty just really do me in. This is my snack of choice if I'm feeling particularly naughty, or if I'm a complete stress ball. Let's just say that the clerks at the local grocery store started asking me if I would be buying "the regular" while I was studying for the bar! So, all you Delilahs out there, trying to figure out my weakness...you can cut my hair all you want, and I won't waver. But put a back of chippies and french onion dip in front of me, and I am forever yours.
2. When I was in high school, I worked at a Christian bookstore outlet (I also worked at McDonald's, as a Kroger sample girl, and at Steinmart, but I digress...). As a preacher's kid, this was a perfect place for me to work - it paid well, its patrons were mostly polite, plus Dad could get a discount on books if he needed them. It was an individually owned store, and had the best little reading nook tucked in the back with a big, comfy couch hidden by piles of Christian books. I'm telling you this because yours truly would close the store all by her lonesome, and, then, out of the blue, her boyfriend would happen to "stop by." Rest assured, I was always a lady, but let's just say that reading wasn't the only recreation that that couch endured!
3. I am kind of a grandma when it comes to my unconscious mannerisms. I usually sit in the car on on a plane with my purse in my lap, holding onto the straps for dear life. I drive with the seat pushed way up and my hands 10 & 2 on the steering wheel. And, when I'm at home, or anyone's home for that matter, I always end up with a quilt or an afghan wrapped around my legs. I promise, I'm only 26.
4. Lately, I have become a snort laugher. Laugh snorter? Just snorter? It is very embarrassing, and I entirely blame my allergies. Memphis has not been kind to me. But, I can't help it, and sometimes, when I do it, it makes me laugh harder, which typically involves more Snorty McSnortersons. By the time I settle down, I just want to die of mortification for the all snorting that had just taken place.
5. I have a lazy eye. Basically, one of my eye's muscles is underdeveloped, and so when I am not intentionally focusing on something, my right eye lazes over to the right side of my face. Wearing contacts and glasses tames the laziness, but when I have my contacts out or I am just unusually tired, the lazy beast rears its ugly head. My parents discovered that I had a lazy eye when I got in trouble with my babysitter (a matronly woman who kept me and several of my friends after school). She was admonishing me for something or other, and kept telling me to "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" I kept telling her "I am looking at you, I promise!" and I guess after a few frustrating rounds of this dialogue, she put 2 and 2 together, and told my parents I needed to see an eye doctor. Turns out, not only did I have a lazy eye, but I also had disproportionately worse vision in that eye. I think my current prescription is -7.50 in the right (which is real bad, in case you didn't know) and -4.0 in my left (still bad, but not quite as bad).
6. Whew! This is hard. And most likely, dreadfully boring to you. And you. Oh, okay, here's one last thing...I have a tendency to name my plants, and over time, I typically become quite partial to them. Case in point, I had a little tropical fern/plant thing that I got during first few months of law school. I placed him in my favorite tiny green pot (which has its own sentimental value), and dubbed him Arthur. Arthur lived, thrived actually, until we moved to Memphis this past August. Our basement apartment gets NO direct sunlight, and before I knew what was happening, little Arthur had died. I didn't cry or anything, but I really was quite sad. Since then, I have tried to replace Arthur with Fonz the Bonz, Arthur II, and Francis, but none of them have had the same closeness that Arthur and I shared. Speaking of Fonz the Bonz, I think I may have killed him. :(
Fonz wasn't looking so hot at the apartment (probably also suffering without much sunlight) and so I brought him to the office. He did fine for a while there, but then I think some kind of bug got to him, because he started having a sticky sort of film on his leaves. I discovered that THE BRUSSELS BONSAI is in Olive Branch, Mississippi, which is really close to Memphis, and they have Bonsai experts there who will help you figure out what is wrong with your tree, how to transplant it into a bigger pot, and what types of soil and fertilizer to use. Naturally, I was thrilled at the idea of taking Fonz to a professional bonsai doctor, so yesterday morning, I put Fonz in my car (aka "Audrey," maybe I just have a tendency to name inanimate objects in general?) and headed to the office. I left Fonz in the car all day, and Memphis experienced a day of record heat. I think yesterday it was 89 degrees outside. I'm sure you can guess where this is going, but when I got out to the car yesterday, Fonz had gone from looking something like this:
To something like this:(The leaves in the 2nd picture are supposed to brown and droopy.)
So, now I am ashamed to take my sick plant to the doctor. I have repotted Fonz and he is sitting outside on our patio, soaking up as much sun as he possibly can. I hate to leave him out there, as there are tons of rugratty kids that feed the ducks near our apartment, and I always worry they are going to mess with our stuff (or worse, take it), but I guess a stolen tree would be just as bad as a dead tree, so I'm tempting fate and send Fonz to the bonsai spa. If I can nurse him back to semi-health, then I'll take him to Dr. Bonsai for a check-up.
Okay, enough about Fonz.
I have more to post later, but for now, those are 6 grimey, embarrassing, stupid things about me!