After all, no one really wants to read about good.

Of course when you are good you are able to laugh at smaller things, things that you consider retelling and then you realize, no, not really all that funny, just funny at the time, in the moment. My greatest source of amusement these days are my suggested items from Amazon. I recently placed an order for a sailing knife (for  B) and an infant car seat (as a baby gift) and I’m pretty sure the algorithm has me pegged as a “psycho baby-stealing murderer” if the suggestions are any indication. Hunting equipment and baby bottles? BUT OF COURSE.

I’ve been trying to get back into being more active as of late, dusting off my bike and pulling out my yoga mat. I finally gave into the siren song of Lululemon, investing in a pair of Wunder Under Crops and a Race Tech top and I’m obsessed. Now all I can think about is getting more Lululemon, next on my list is a pair of Groove pants. Fascinating, I know. I also hit up the Shops at Target (insert eye roll now) (mutter under your breath about Missoni for Target) like every other woman in America who loves Target. My favorite items were from The Webster (snagged a tunic) and Privet House (some candles).

In my final roundup of “things that are good” I’ve contined enjoying good books at a rapid rate of speed. The Art of Racing in the Rain got 3 stars from me, the Lost Wife got 4. Next up is “The Discovery of Witches” which I have high hopes for. After that…well, who knows.

All in all, things are good, if not a little boring. But sometimes…sometimes boring is great.

I did not find this magical room this time around. Suddenly the high end white noise machine in my room made a lot of sense.

The room reminded me a little bit of a pod or a space shuttle. Everything was sleek and modern and very, very small. It had fancy buttons in lieu of light switches which required deciphering of the image to figure out how to dim the lights or turn them on or off. I never did figure it out and instead resorted to random mashing of buttons. It didn’t have a digital alarm clock either, which made it hard to tell the time in the middle of the night without my glasses on.

The bathroom was fully tiled in penny tile. It would have been very echo-y had it not been the size of my coat closet.

What you can’t tell from that photo is that the shower curtain was made of mesh. As in metal. This seems highly counterintuitive but I tried not to think about it because it was too mind boggling.

The best part about the room (with porthole windows that I’m pretty sure I had to pay extra for, haaaaaa, man they thing weird things are cool in NYC) was the view.

Spot on, Dream Hotel, spot on.

Speaking of views, when we flew into New York, we flew over the lower tip of the island. I spotted the new World Trade Center One and then I suddenly looked straight down, and could easily see the two reflecting pools that make up the memorial to the Twin Towers. It took my breath away from 15,000 feet, these serene holes that broke up the topography of sky scrapers and glass. We landed a few minutes later, and as we taxied we rolled past Donald Trump’s plane, and apropo of nothing I had to laugh. It was jarring, being snapped out of my thoughts about the World Trade Center attacks by a black plane with the word “Trump” arrogantly painted across the fuselage, but there it was. I suppose there might be some symbolism there, or commentary on our society today, but I’m too tired to figure out what it is.

My travel extravaganza is winding down and all I have left is my Memorial Day weeekend trip to Boca Raton before I enjoy Chicago for a long, long time.

Sometimes you just have to leave the ballet flats at home and go out on a limb.

I’ll give you a few minutes to process that.

…….

Still here?  Fantastic. My parents got a beehive. As it turns out, you purchase bees by the pound at the bee warehouse.

My parents bought 3 33 (update! they bought 33 not 3, WHOOPS) pounds of bees. I thought that would equal 3 of the little boxes you can see up there, but as it turns out, this what 33 pounds of bees in the back of your car looks like:

Yes. My Dad drove the bees home. You’d think he’d have called them a cab or paid for Amazon delivery, but no. The man drove the bees home IN HIS CAR.

I bet you are wondering what you do with the bees once you get home. This is what I wondered. Well, waiting at home was an apiary (a beehive) and their friend who is a beekeeper. Now before you get super excited I regret to inform you that apiaries do not look like old fashioned yellow dome shaped hives with little “layers” – nope, they pretty much look like a box. Boring. The beekeeper slowly transferred the 3 pounds of bees into the apiary.

I KNOW. WORST JOB EVER.

Everyone knows the most important part of the hive is the queen bee. She bosses all the other bees around and tells them what to do. You have to buy your queen bee separately and she comes in a little box with a sugar cube plug. The beekeeper puts the box (with the queen) into the hive and then the bees and the queen nibble on the cube from both sides until it is gone. Hopefully when it is gone the bees accept the queen….if not…MUTINY. Or they drive her off and Mom and Dad have to get a new queen. You’ll know the queen has been accepted when the bees start making honeycombs and honey and bringing pollen back to the apiary. Here is the beekeeper putting their queen into the hive:

A few days later Mom snapped a picture of the bees bringing pollen back to the hive. Thank goodness for telephoto lenses, amirite? (I used some fancy Skitch skills to draw fancy hot pink arrows showing the pollen grains just in case you weren’t sure.) This means they accepted the queen bee!

Can you spot the heavy lifters in this photo?

Their beekeeper friend came out a few days letter to check on things. These are baby bees and they have a young queen so they had started forming honeycombs but they weren’t in the trays that are in the hive. Whoops.

The beekeeper said this is ok and he moved things around a little bit. The bees should get the hang of it soon.

Because I think it bears repeating: WORST JOB EVER.

My parents don’t have a full beekeeping suit but they have some gloves and a hat contraption should they need to poke around for any reason. They live in the mountains in Utah which is a great beekeeping region. They don’t call it the beehive state for nothing. They have to pay attention for skunks who will come tap on the hive at night in order to work the bees up so they fly outside the hive as a tasty little snack. Oh and of course they have to watch out for bears.

Yes. Skunks and bears that come try to eat your venomous stinging insects. BEST HOBBY EVER.

(I like to tease my parents about their bees and remind that most people get chickens and call it good.)

As far as why, well, they are good for the environment and it seemed like a fun hobby. (My parents definition of fun is up for debate.) They have a friend who is a beekeeper so they don’t have to do too much of the scary work themselves which I think is a big plus.They don’t have any plans to sell honey, just enjoy it themselves and share with their friends, so it isn’t a business endeavor.

For now they are leaving the bees be. They just have to stay away from their flight pattern and keep their eyes out for predators. This fall they’ll harvest the wax and honey. Mom and I have grand plans of a weekend of candle, soap and lip balm making. We will wear our best pioneer bonnets while doing this. (I lie. Pioneer bonnets would make it hard to drink wine while making candles. Priorities people. Priorities.) They are going to get some signs for the trees near the hive:

Luckily for them the neighbors and the homeowners association are all cool with the bees. The hive is on the back edge of their property where it isn’t landscaped so it isn’t an area where people walk or kids play (there is a steep cliff nearby). The current estimate is that their hive will produce about 5 gallons or 25 pounds of honey this first year. Since I have priorities (shopping) I want to order these tags to put on our honey bottles:

And there you have it. My parents got a beehive. Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are. But…I think it is kind of cool too and I’m definitely looking forward to our jars of fresh honey. And yes, if you ask, my parents will totally name one of the bees after you.

In short the state of New York is adding another requirement to becoming admitted to the bar, but this time it isn’t another section of the test or another background check form to fill out. Beginning in 2013 applicants to the bar (also referred to as Poor 3L Suckers in some crowds) will be required to donate 50 hours of pro bono service in order to become admitted the bar.

On its face this seems like a great idea. Lets help students learn, lets get services to those in need, lets help people who can’t afford counsel. Win-win-win.

Except I think this is a horrible idea. A truly horrible, bad idea. Worse than clear Pepsi and those jars of peanut butter and jelly swirled together.

To start with I find it amusing that New York is creating this requirement. New York which has, bar none, (ha!! lawyer jokes!) one of the top two hardest bar exams in the country. So lets take a state that is already viewed with fear and trepidation and make it that much harder to get a license to practice in. Lets make that license contingent upon 50 hours of work (which is no drop in the bucket) and thus becomes a nightmare for anyone who decides midway through their third year of law school that they want or need to take the New York bar exam but didn’t go to law school in New York. Those applicants, to put it mildly, are screwed, am I right? I don’t think you can put in 50 pro bono hours the summer you are studying for the exam so you are now punishing anyone who didn’t “plan ahead” even though the decision of where to take the bar exam is dependant upon their spouse, their kids or any other number of things out of their hands.

You are also creating a huge hurdle for attorneys who are already practicing in one state and are looking to become admitted in New York (I haven’t read that they’d be waived of the requirement which is why I’m bringing it up) by saying “Hey, while you hold down a job somewhere else, and you study for another bar exam, please be sure to find 50 hours of your time to donate.”

In summary my first argument is that logistically this is a nightmare.

My second argument rests on an assumption no one is going to like, but I’m putting it out there anyway. Do you know how many rules are in place to prohibit cheating on bar exams? Those rules exist because in the past, people have tried to cheat. No need for lawyer jokes here, and no need to assume it is just lawyers- people cheat on spelling tests in first grade, on medical boards and CPA exams, and, no surprise at all, on the bar exam. So lets add an element to becoming admitted to the bar that brings innocent (or maybe not, hah, a little criminal law joke, oh God, where did my sense of humor die?) third parties into the mix: the indigent clients that are the touted basis for this requirement. Sure, some enterprising young adults might just entirely fudge the affidavit they are required to sign (excellent basis for an ethical legal career by the by) but others might begin helping someone and then, through whatever faults of their own, not follow through and lie about the rest of the hours. So now you have an unethical new lawyer and an indigent client who just got hosed by shoddy volunteer work. Special. Because people try to cheat or game the system this turns clinics and other places where you can volunteer into full time babysitters. No longer are they focused on training their small group of dedicated students, now they have to implement policies to make sure no one is fudging their hours and deal with the huge rush of people since everyone needs to volunteer now. I think this is overwhelming and unfair to all of the volunteer legal organizations out there.

Last but not least you are taking law students and requiring them to volunteer their time to people who can’t afford counsel. Some might call this the blind leading the blind. Others might call this absurd. Frankly I find it a little insulting to the client, a little “hey you can’t afford a lawyer at all and we want to teach these young whippersnappers something so we are letting them practice on you!” Not only that but the majority of these kids, who are practicing on the marginalized sector of society that probably needs the most protection, don’t want to be there.

Yes, the law students will be monitored and supervised.

Yes, there are clinics and programs across the country that have law students volunteering their time to people in need.

Yes, pro bono work is a cornerstone of “doing the right” and it is admirable to instill this trait in lawyers as young as you can.

But. Such a huge but.

You are forcing people to volunteer. These clinics are no longer filled with students who are truly yearning for the chance to help someone out, you are filling them up with everyone and my limited knowledge of statistical sampling says that not everyone is going to be driven by the desire to help. They are driven by the Fear Of God also known as The Fear Of The Bar Exam and Being A Real Lawyer and they are not who I want to see handing out legal advice. They are young, scared, and don’t know what they are doing. They are hoping for a long fulfilling career of being a law librarian or doing corporate transactional work, all they want to do is get admitted to the bar, but here they are (in a now  max capacity program since everyone is looking to volunteer) giving advice to someone who can’t afford a “real” lawyer.

It is insulting to everyone I think. The law student, their client, the program.

If the state of New York really cared about providing legal services to those that can’t afford them they would require that lawyers – who have already passed the bar and been admitted and know what they are doing- provide legal services. Lawyers have to renew their licenses, they have to attend continuing legal education, so why not add a pro bono work requirement? Maybe let them swap out 10 hours of continuing legal education for 10 hours of pro bono work. Then you have “real” lawyers dedicating their time to people who need it and you don’t have already freaked out of their gourd law students trying to help someone when they have no clue what they are doing themselves.

 I know I’m not the only one with these opinions but I hope that other states take a good long look at New York’s latest requirements and realize what a truly horrible idea it is.

Lawyers have enough jokes flying around about them. Lets not hurt our image even more and put an at-risk group further at risk. To me that is just common sense.

Over on Pinterrible you can find all of my posts on Pinterest fails and flops (four posts to date) and you can submit your own. For easy access (that’s what she said….) there is a button floating around on the right side of my main page that you can click at any time to get to Pinterrible. I wouldn’t want to keep these atrocities from you.

 Consider Pinterrible a safe place to question the use of cat hair crafts and jewelry shaped like human anatomy (the bathing suit covered up kind).

See you over there….

But I digress. It was a work trip so I was (obviously) traveling alone and that is naturally when I got the biggest hotel upgrade of my life, to a suite roughly the size of my apartment, when there is no one to share it with. It featured a television set into the bathroom mirror, an infinity edge jacuzzi tub roughly the size of a hot tub, a dining room, a shower with five shower heads and a walk in closet roughly the size of my kitchen. It was beyond opulent and so I did what anyone staying alone in an absurd room does, I slept smack dab in the middle of the bed, used the curtain control buttons more times than I really needed to and soaked in the tub until I got pruney. (Normally I’m against baths in hotels but this one was sparkling clean and featured mood lighting and infinity edge, NEED I SAY MORE?)

Of course nothing in my life can just be normal so during a break I ran back up to my room on my first full day in Sin City to find this:

In case you can’t or won’t read that, let me translate: LARGE IMPLOSION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET FROM YOUR ROOM.

But of course.

I wanted to get up to watch it and then I realized that the implosion window of 2 to 2:45 am was really outside my comfort zone so I figured I’d sleep through it. Before I went to bed, my view looked something like this:

Now while I didn’t make grand plans to wake up for the implosion the thought that I was going to sleep through it, in retrospect, was absurd. Mostly because it sounded like the Titanic was crashing into a jetliner filled with drums of explosives in the middle of an earthquake. “Very little to no vibrations” my ass and I leapt out of bed screaming as though I’d discovered a mouse on my pillow. It was terrifying even though I was (in theory) expecting it, and I hit the “open curtain” buttons as fast as I could. I was treated to an eerie cloud of dust heading my way:

The good news was that the dust did not set of the fire alarms as expected so I was able to fall back asleep until morning-morning (as opposed to 2:30 am morning) where the imploded parking garage looked rather boring.

Outside of the exciting implosion (making way for more shopping, obviously, as 3 Tiffany & Co stores on one street can’t be nearly enough) the trip was work-work-work. My crisp $100 bill that I’d saved for the blackjack tables remains in my wallet and will go back into my bank account and there was no time for shows or shopping or meandering. I did have an exceptional meal at Rao’s which was on my bucket list after seeing it on a Food Network special, Top Chef and reading about it in the Kay Scarpetta series by Patricia Cornwell. (I had ravioli pouches stuffed with pears and ricotta and topped with brown butter, sage and cranberries) I also learned how to play poker with my boss, which was fun other than when I tried to gracefully lose by going all in with what I thought were the worst cards ever. Turns out spotting a straight is tricker than imagined and I won the whole pot which kept me in for at least four more hands of over betting on crappy cards before the same thing happened again (we were playing with fake chips) and ultimately kept me at the table significantly longer than planned – sad since I was trying to elegantly leave the table to blow my nose. That Las Vegas air is dry which I suspect is how they get away with charging $5 for a bottle of water at any store or kiosk.

And there you have it. Las Vegas for work, complete with an implosion. Next week: New York City!

(My go-to is to call B a “jerk” which is a real hit-em-at-the-knees kind of word.)

(I always say I’m sorry.)

Now you can hurl names without risk of being overheard by the neighbors or sleeping children. Bonus, these land with a pleasing “smack”  (ON THE FLOOR NOT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER) and come on, I think you’d end up laughing and your fight would be over.

(Dear Mom & Milly: you will not like these. My apologies. I don’t use words like these, promise.)

Mean Bags from maybeyoushoulddie

Per the description: MEAN BAGS™ are a revolutionary new type of bean bag specifically made for pelting at others. Every Mean Bag is hand-embroidered and sewn deliberately with hostility and mean-spiritedness in mind. We hope someone you hate catches one in the face today. (Or gets one in a beautiful package if you’re not feeling too bold).

Personally I think these would be an amazing gift for a bachelorette party if you don’t like giving lingerie but still want to do something cheeky and hilarious and totally NOT wedding-shower appropriate.

Hat tip to my friend Jen for finding these hilariously inappropriate bean bags and giving me the courage to consider ordering them. FOR A FRIEND. 

(The MeanBag people do not know who I am nor have they compensated me in any way for this post. Just something I felt compelled to share.)

A friend of mine recently wrote that despite being a bold coffee lover she was obsessed with the Starbucks K-Cups in the blonde Veranda Blend. I was skeptical but I tried them and whoa- she was right. Delicious cup of coffee and surprisingly flavorful for a “blonde” blend.

Awhile back I mentioned I was tossing all my old mismatched “disposable” food storage containers and upgrading to glass. I am so thrilled with this decision and I’ve taken to using a mixture of these containers and mason jars to keep our food fresh in the fridge and pantry. Mason jars are a great way to store granola bars, homemade salad dressing, and trail mix, and the glass “tupperware” containers store all of our leftovers. Best of all: they come clean in the dishwasher and never have a funky smell or color.

My friend Angie sent me the worlds coolest candy jar as a thank-you for helping her with something. I fill it with jelly beans so I’m not tempted to eat any (I hate jelly beans) but I love how it looks on our entry table. So whimsical and fun! If you ever need a good hostess gift beyond the “bottle of wine and a dishcloth” route, I highly recommend one of these.

Jelly roll pans are a long regarded “must have” in the kitchen and I recently needed to replace mine (that were sticky, stained and warped so everything slid off of them). After taking a look at the flimsy ones at Bed Bath & Beyond and the sturdy but pricey ones at Williams’ Sonoma, I found a kitchen supply restaurant that was open to the public and bought 3 heavy duty ones for $7 a piece. They haven’t warped or bent, and they are perfect for so many things- roasting veggies, baking cookies, catching drips in the bottom rack. Highly recommend. Just call any kitchen supply store in your area and ask if they sell to the public. (I also grabbed a new sieve and some silpat baking sheets for a song.)

Sometimes you try things that just don’t work out. Rhett Butler has his daily dose of Prozac and for years we’ve used the Greenie brand “pill pockets” to shove his pills into to give him as a treat. I have never been thrilled about everything on the ingredient list and when our local natural food store where we buy his food and treats sold “natural” pill pockets I was thrilled. The only problem? Rhett Butler hates them. Oh well, live and learn. (For anyone curious, our food and treat brand of choice is Fromm. Rhett Butler likes the duck and sweet potato blend best.)

I like to share all things beauty and girly and so I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you about my new face cream. Sometimes my skin gets “tired” of what I’m using so I had to take a break from Philosophy and this jar of Kiehl’s is making my face very, very happy. Many thanks to the Law School Ninja for giving me the courage to buy it without testing it out. Now I’m just trying to decide which of the Kiehl’s eye creams to take the plunge with. (In related reviews,Trader Joe’s Midsummer Night Cream body lotion is fantastic and inexpensive for those of you looking for a good bottle.)

 I faltered in the baking aisle picking out the cupcake liners and sprinkles. You never got to pick your favorite color so I was unsure of what to choose. It seemed so important that I get it right, and yet there was no right answer. My hand hovered over different colors before I snatched up pink sprinkles, remembering how sweet you looked in your pink giraffe print romper. As I measured ingredients and stirred the batter I added extra salt by way of the tears that trickled down my face. I normally rush through baking, excited about the end result, to taste it, to see if it turned out, but last night I was methodical. I carefully mixed my pink and gold sprinkles, determined that the ratio would be just right for your cupcakes. These had to be perfect.

I’ve baked a lot of things over the years. Whipped chocolate pie and complex scones and shortbreads, I’ve gently poured dozens of cheesecakes and filled fruit pies and whipped mousse by hand. And yet these simple yellow cupcakes with ganache topping were the hardest thing I’ve ever made.

Saying goodbye to you was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, I can’t imagine how much moreso for your parents and family. You are often talked about, with smiles and with tears, and your birthday is so very bittersweet. We will never not celebrate the day you came into this world, but our heart aches that you are not here with us.

Happy birthday little lady. May you always know how much you are loved.