Good Company

I successfully finished my house-sitting stint this week. By that I mean nothing broke, the plants survived, and the milk delivery made it safely to the fridge.

The milk was a close thing. I was told that the delivery would come between 9 and 11 am. I would be at work during that time, so I left a cooler full of ice on the porch and planned to go bring the milk inside during my lunch break.

These are some of the plants that kept
me company during the last few weeks.
I probably indulged them with too much
water, but growing up in a semi-arid
climate makes me expect that all plants
need lots and lots of water. I'm just
happy they were all still green at the end
of the three weeks.

But when I arrived at lunch, there was no milk to be seen. I was so sure it would be there, I looked in the cooler four times before I really believed it was empty. When I was finally convinced, I left the cooler on the porch and went back to work.

After work, I checked again. Still no milk.

So, I left to run an errand. Then I went back to check again.

Nothing.

At that point, I gave up. I emptied the ice and put the cooler away. Then I sat down to play the piano for a few minutes before leaving for the night. Halfway through the first song, there was a knock at the door. Lo and behold, it was the milkman.

It made me think about how well life works out sometimes. The milk arrived about eight hours after I expected,  a half-hour after I’d given up on it, and at a time when I could easily have been somewhere else. But it arrived right when I was there to take it and put it straight in the fridge. It was a simple thing, but it made me wonder how often I give up on bigger things just because they don’t arrive when I expect them to.

It also gave me a chuckle at my own expense. I drink about one half-gallon of milk per week, so when the milkman held the crate out, I started grabbing one half-gallon jar. I hadn’t even considered that a family of four might want more than that. The milkman kindly asked if I just wanted to take the crate. I laughed at myself as I carried the whole crate back to the kitchen and transferred all four jars to the fridge.

My living alone mentality sometimes forgets about other family dynamics besides the greater grocery volume required. Generally I don’t mind living alone – I’m usually content in my own company. But it’s nice to be in a crowd once in a while.

This weekend I received that exact treat. I went to visit a friend and her family who have just moved to Charlottesville so her husband can attend law school. It was wonderful to chat and catch up for an hour. And it was so much fun to have her two little kids (ages 5-ish and 3-ish) coming over to tell me things, to be tickled, to climb on me, to show me treasures, and to give me hugs. They had never even seen me before. There is something inescapably precious about the presence of kids.

After that visit, I continued north to stay with my aunt and uncle and attend an Open House for my cousin and his new wife. The house was full of good people intent on having a good evening. I knew only four of the people there (my relatives), but I had a good time talking and hearing thoughts and stories from various guests. Good people are good friends even when they’re strangers.

My visit culminated with a good night’s sleep, a scrumptious breakfast (much better than I ever make), a nice time at church, and some excellent family visiting time. I left with a bag of good food for the drive home and a thankful heart for having those wonderful people in my life.

A little company is a wonderful thing.

This was option #1 at the Open House.

This was option #2 at the Open House.
I don't know what's in it, but it was yummy.

I saw this license plate on the way home today.
I figure this is an adequate description of my life, as I am constantly busy being a Quilter.

This is my newest toy.
(Thanks to Mom & Dad for the birthday present!)
It looks huge on my wrist because it is huge on my wrist. But it's the smallest
one I could find with the features that I wanted (and it's comfortable enough).
The buttons have a little bit of a learning curve; it was stuck on Hong Kong time for
a little while until I figured out how to set the clock.
Charlottesville 1/2 Marathon, here I come!

Rhythm

My big success of the week was running 12 miles. Not all at once, but in two mile increments every day before work. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

I had a long debate with myself about it after my alarm went off on Tuesday morning . Five-thirty felt  very early and more sleep sounded nice. I think when I came to Virginia my internal clock stayed on Mountain time. My ten to eleven o’clock Utah bedtime turned into a midnight or one a.m. bedtime here. And my five o’clock Utah mornings turned into six to eight o’clock Virginia mornings, depending on how much homework I had left. I probably sat in bed debating for 30 minutes on Tuesday before I finally got up to run.

Later in the week, I was wishing I was it better shape so I could go farther. I like variety; and although the neighborhood here is green and very pretty, there aren’t many different options for a two mile run. (That’s one of the hidden benefit of the Salt Lake City grid system: so many different directions to go.) I feel silly driving somewhere just to run (not to mention it takes more time), which left me with limited directional options. But, I tied my shoes and ran the same trail again.

And it felt good. I was missing my early mornings.

And, in a way, I was missing myself. The last few weeks have felt like learning how to live again, how to be me. It’s as if I’m finally getting in sync with myself after the disruption of moving and the attendant jumble of all my reference points one year ago. Like I’m finally getting back into my own rhythm.

So, I’m going to keep running in the morning. And hopefully that will help keep me in a good rhythm when school starts in a few weeks.

This is the duck gang that hangs out at the local lake.
I found them going for a walk as I ran by one morning.

I might have inadvertently changed their plans. After
I took a picture, they turned around and left the street.
When I came by again on my way home, they were close
to the path, milling about as if they were trying not to
look too interested in crossing the street to the forest
on the other side.

Stories

It’s been a slow week at work, which gave me a lot of free time and a chance to transcribe some stories my grandpa recorded about his childhood. It is a delight to hear Grandpa talk about the world of his young life in Henrieville, UT and to hear him laugh about his experiences. My favorite statement so far has come from his description of a boyhood game he called Duck on Rock. He said, “I don't remember the particulars of the game, but I know that it always ended up in a rock fight.”

Grandpa also told of his first experiences with clay. As a boy, he used to gather the clay that accumulated on the sides of the irrigation ditch where silt would drop out of the water. Perhaps even then he was being prepared for the sculpting work the Lord would  have him to do.

Listening to Grandpa’s stories this week fit nicely with Pioneer Day. In Virginia, of course, it isn’t a state holiday, but the slow week let me watch the Days of ’47 Parade online. It was a delicious taste of nostalgia and Pioneer Day flavor in my far away corner of Virginia. It also brought back various memories: being roused at 3 am to claim a spot on the street to watch the parade (I don’t know if it was really that early; that’s just how I remember it); sleeping on blankets and sleeping bags after we found a spot while my parents cooked breakfast on a camp stove; other years of running the races, followed by wandering several more miles back and forth along the parade route (sometimes on tired legs; sometimes covering more distance after the race was over than I actually ran in the race); other years sleeping in and watching the parade online, but again having breakfast with family or friends.

They’re all good memories.

I also spent some time in the family history center this week, looking at old pictures and census records. Those records are like little tidbits of stories; tales in miniature about what life was like and the kind of people my ancestors are.

Being in a Colonial and Revolutionary Era town makes me think a lot about history. But in all the history that is here, I’m most grateful for my own heritage and stories from both sides of my family. My ancestors, grandparents, and parents have done so much to pave my way through life. Knowing a little about them helps me as I figure out my own work and write my own story.

I love stories. And I’m looking forward to more of them as the summer goes on.

A Taste of Heaven

I’m house-sitting again this week. But there are no dogs this time, only plants. And a piano, which is fun. I brought one of my music books over to see how much I can learn of Michael Ethington’s How Firm a Foundation while I housesit for three weeks. It feels good to play the piano again.

The highlight of my week was going to the Washington D.C. Temple. It isn’t as far away as I thought, only about 2½ hours (although I have heard stories of traffic extending the trip by one or two hours). I packed some snacks, turned on my GPS, and headed North through the tree tunnels that are Virginia roads.

I love this little light. It's the
best image I can think of
for representing how tall the
temple is. It's as if it's
craning its neck back trying
to see the top.

It felt so good to be at the temple. The inside is beautiful. I love the windows in the walkway after the entrance.  I loved looking up and down the tall spiral staircase. The Celestial Room is exquisite.  It was a peaceful, thoughtful, and edifying couple of hours.

The drive back was calm and uneventful. I listened to some TED talk summaries and Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me on NPR. And the only turn I missed that day was the last freeway exit when I was back in Williamsburg (I turned off my GPS thinking I knew where to go).

I think temples are always more beautiful in person. A picture never quite captures the beauty of being there. But I've included a few to give just a taste of my afternoon.

Easy Reading

The Jordan River Temple after a nice evening session.

Home, sweet home. I had a much needed week at home with family after my summer classes were over. On the way there, I read a National Geographic magazine from the stack on my table. (I didn’t do much magazine reading during the school year, so they sort of piled up.) I thought one magazine would be enough to keep me busy for the trip, but I finished it by the time I was halfway to Salt Lake City. Suffice it to say magazine reading is easier than law homework.

Wandering the Salt Lake City Cemetery
(a very peaceful and interesting place).

My trip was a wonderful conglomeration of the best parts of life: family and friends and adventure and  just being home. The highlights included visiting my grandparents, attending my cousin’s sealing in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, dinner with friends at Vinto (casual Italian – not exceptional, but tasty), rafting down the Colorado River in Moab, stargazing on the roof of Dad’s Jeep with my sister and my niece (Mom & Dad were there too, but opted for the chairs),  getting a haircut (I knew it was a good one when my 5-year-old niece told me the result was “exciting”), appreciating a wild snake (courtesy of my brother and his mad reptile wrangling skills), and getting semi-buried in river mud (my nephew was up to his chest at once point).

Mt. Timpanogos Temple

The happy couple (& family).

There were some interesting sights too: mountains, shooting stars, a little World Cup soccer, red rocks, a movie (Life is Beautiful – good show), scenery that wasn’t hiding behind a forest (it’s wonderful how far you can see when there aren’t many trees around), a very dark road…

I saw the last one while my sister and I were driving down a streetlight-less road in the middle of nowhere in central Utah late at night. The headlights just turned off. It was dark. There were no other cars around (to give us light or, on the other hand, crash into us) so we found ourselves looking at a big black nothing coming at us at 65 mph. (We slowed down very quickly.) Happily, the hazard lights worked and we were able to strobe-light ourselves to the side of the road. After some fiddling with the controls, the headlights came back on and kindly stayed on during the last 30 minutes of our drive into Moab.

Getting a good stargazing picture while lying on the roof
of a jeep is rough. At least in this one our eyes were open.

Most of the trip was less dramatic than that. It was so good to spend time with my family. The trip felt like it was all over too soon.

A very little bit of some of my favorite scenery in
the world: Utah's red rock country.

______________________________________________
Back in Virginia

The flag flying at the Williamsburg Capitol
on Independence Day.

Williamsburg fife and drum corps.

I was back in Williamsburg for the 4th of July, which was fun. I heard the Declaration of Independence read from the steps of the Courthouse (arriving straight from its adoption in Philadelphia, of course). There was much huzzah!-ing for freedom and much booing and hissing at the mention of taxes or the abuses of King George III. Later, I toured the Bruton Parish Church, watched part of a colonial auction (the prices were not very authentic), enjoyed the fife and drum concert, and spent some time reading on the lawn near the Governor’s Palace. The evening entertainment was provided by the Virginia Symphony Orchestra and fireworks. Fireworks sound much more like actual cannons in the Revolutionary City setting.

Listening to the Declaration of Independence
read from the steps of the Williamsburg Courthouse.

Colonial auctioneer.

[I actually only saw 1/3 of the fireworks because I was on the wrong side of the lawn and most of them were exploding behind the trees. Someone once refer to newspapers as “thinly sliced trees.” Much as I like trees and believe that most of them should be firmly rooted in the earth and leafy, the thinly sliced versions are much better for visibility.]

Trees. Always trees.

The Bruton Parish Church, seen from a colonial garden.

After the fireworks, the fife & drum corps marched down DOG street, preceded by torches and followed by the crowd. It was marvelous to feel the military beat vibrating in my chest as I walked down the road in the middle of history – a perfect ending to Independence Day.

Marching toward DOG street at the end of the day.

I’ve also enjoyed some time outside. It’s been drizzly, hot, sunny, overcast, and invariably humid, but not markedly uncomfortable. The deer are clustering around South Henry Street again. The rabbits are all about, looking like the offspring of escaped household pets (I saw one trying to be invisible by sitting so perfectly still that it looked like a chocolate Easter bunny). I’ve been quacked and murmured at by the gang of white ducks that hangs out in a little cluster at the lake. And I was surprised to look down from the lake bridge one day and see a little snub nose sticking out of the water. It took some closer looking to figure out it was attached to a turtle. I gradually realized there were about a dozen turtles – in small, medium, and large varieties – swimming and basking in the murky water below me.

Besides that, I’ve mostly been working. My job consists of whatever odd tasks need to be done at the law school’s Alumni Development Office (for example, looking up graduation years for hundreds of alumni and entering the information on a spreadsheet).

And I’ve done a lot of reading: books, news, whatever. So long as it’s not too tough.

Evidence 101

My summer classes ended with finals on Thursday and Friday. These finals were much more relaxed than exams during the regular semester. My Evidence final was actually very enjoyable. (That might have had something to do with it being 80% multiple choice instead of a long essay…)

I enjoyed my Evidence class as a whole much more than I expected. Evidence has a puzzle piece sort of feel to it which I like; if one way doesn’t work, you try another until you find a way to make it fit. That is especially true of the hearsay rule, which can be rather fun.

One of the topics we discussed in Evidence was eyewitness testimony. My professor told us of an experiment he did with one of his classes. He arranged with one of his students to allow a “thief” to come in and steal the student’s purse. The woman came into class, made a big scene, took the purse, and left – doing everything slowly and deliberately. After she left, the class discussed the characteristics they had noticed, such as height, weight, hair color, clothing, etc. There was a lot of variation in what the students claimed about the thief.

About a week later, the students were asked to identify the thief. They could choose one of five women: four who came into class  for a line-up or a fifth who was absent (not in the line-up).

The result? Each of the five woman was identified as the thief by 20% of the class. In other words, 80% of the class was wrong. And the real clincher was that the student who had her purse “stolen” and was practically face to face with the thief chose the wrong woman.

So eyewitness evidence is a little scary.

We also discussed the topic of presumption. Presumption is one of those words that’s easy to define outside of law, but can be messy inside the law. My professor gave us four different definitions.

• First, there is the typical non-legal definition: X usually causes Y, so when there is evidence of X, we can presume Y happened too.

• Second, there is a so-called irrebuttable presumption: this isn’t really a presumption, it’s a legal rule that if there is evidence of X, the jury must find that Y happened, even if there is evidence to the contrary.

• Third and fourth are the presumptions that actually affect how the law works: if there is evidence of X, the jury must find that Y happened. But if someone claims Y didn’t happen, someone has to try to prove either that it did or did not. (The difference between the third and forth types of presumption is which party has the burden of proof.)

In law, the word presumption gets complicated because people (e.g., legislatures) use it without defining which type of presumption they mean. Thus, the lawyers end up arguing about it or the court has to make up the best answer it can.

Another evidence topic we discussed is an efficiency tactic called judicial notice. This is actually shortcut to avoid having to prove something. Rather than presenting evidence of the fact, the lawyer will ask the judge to say, in effect, “this is so well-known or obvious that we are going to call it true for the purposes of this case.”

Judicial notice saves time and money. For example, asking the judge to take notice that NaCl is the chemical formula for table salt is much easier and cheaper than bringing in a chemist to testify about it. Judges can take notice of all sorts of things; for example, that a certain date was a Tuesday, that diamonds are hard, that DOG Street means Duke of Gloucester Street, that a city is located in a certain county, that mules are occasionally dangerous, that a given ice cream flavor is usually a certain color, or that snowmen usually have sticks for arms and a carrot for a nose. (Some of these examples are taken from A Modern Approach to Evidence, by Lempert, et. al., West Academic Publishing p. 1400.)

So that’s Evidence. It’s fun.

The weekend after finals was nice and relaxing. Friday afternoon I took a nap (I slept hard for two or three hours). Saturday I attended a baptism for our most recent convert, after which two other recent converts treated me to dinner at the country club. They are so kind and good and friendly. I felt very spoiled.

More Than Adequate

The convenient thing about living in a rainier climate is that every time my car starts getting really dirty, a storm rolls through and washes it off. This week it was especially convenient because I had run out of window washer fluid.

Another bonus about the climate here is that thunder is better in the east. Maybe it’s louder because it doesn’t run into any foothills. Or maybe the storms are bigger because they don’t have to climb over the mountains. Whatever the reason, thunder just sounds better in this half of the country. When I was little, I didn’t understand why people were afraid of thunder. It only started to make sense when I was serving a mission in Kentucky and Ohio. After a night of bed-shaking, heart-pounding thunder, I understood how someone could be afraid of it. I’m still not afraid of thunder, though. I relish a good, powerful drum roll across the sky.

I am not, however, a fan of another consequence of the rainy climate: humidity. The hot and sticky days have started. It hasn’t been too bad yet, but we’ve had a day or two when walking outside was like walking into a wall of air and not having my hair in a ponytail was a bad idea.

***

Over the last year, I’ve heard several remarks about 2Ls and 3Ls not reading for class. One person even expressed surprise that any upperclassmen still did any reading. That was hard for me to believe. As a student I had always done all of my reading. And considering the intense, competitive nature of law school, it seemed improbable that a large percentage of law students were not keeping up with daily reading.

Well, now I know why. Sometimes it just isn’t worth the time it takes. That, combined with a professor who openly acknowledged to the class that she didn’t really expect us to do all the reading, left me skimming a few chapters this week. And, as minimal perusal was adequate for those classes, I’m not exactly averse to doing it again in the future. I doubt I’ll ever give up on the whole concept of reading for class, though.

***

I made a happy discovery this week: a painting by James Christensen titled “A Lawyer More Than Adequately Attired.” The painting is good, but my favorite part is the explanation. It is just so, so true.