Summer Part 3

Well, ask and ye shall receive. I wanted a little more adventure for the summer; my friend Jennifer needed to use some vacation time; put those together and viola! One more week of fun before the school year starts.

The best parts of the week – laughing, talking, laying aside the stress of normal life – can’t be easily documented. But, at the risk of sounding like a travelogue, here are some of the highlights of our weeklong venture:

The Governor's Palace

 We spent a very hot day at Colonial Williamsburg. While checking the weather on my phone, I inadvertently stumbled across a good illustration of the difference between the Virginia climate and the Utah climate. As displayed on my weather widget:

Temperature in Salt Lake City = 86, feels like 84.

Temperature in Williamsburg = 96; feels like 105.

And that’s why I don’t plan on living any farther south than I already do.

The newest building in Williamsburg:
the Market House.

Printing the Declaration of Independence
at the colonial printshop.

Happily, it wasn’t too hot to keep us from enjoying the day. We went to the military encampment and were immediately taken up as new recruits, whereupon we were drilled in the proper methods of lining up, marching, and firing rifles. (For future reference, rifles go “BOOM!” They do not go “bang” or “pow.” And they never go “pew! pew! pew!”) We were also shown how to fire a cannon and instructed on how to tighten the snares on a drum. Afterward, our commanding officer told us to report at 7 am the next morning for further training. We were told we wouldn’t get breakfast until our training improved, so we blatantly disobeyed that order and went AWOL.

This cannon goes off periodically throughout
the day as a demonstration for new recruits.

Jennifer putting her new military
skills to use in the guardhouse.

We also went to the cabinet-making shop, where you can find everything from a cradle to a coffin, but mostly chairs and desks and cabinets. The best item is, perhaps, a handmade harpsichord, which you can play if you ask nicely (we did).

Jennifer's harpsichord playing earned
a round of applause.

Another highlight of that day was the brick yard. The colonists dig up the clay and mix in water by stomping through it over and over again. After getting the rocks out, they move it to a second pit and let the visitors join in. Result: many muddy feet and a lot of happy children. (They let adults in too. I was tempted, but I was wearing white pants and thought getting in a pit of clay might not end well. Hopefully I’ll get back there another time when I’m more appropriately attired.)

The professionals are very kind to find
all the rocks before they put the
tourists to work stomping in the
clay pits.

Following the stomping, the bricks are formed in wooden molds, left to dry, and fired (which is done by building a kiln over the stacks of bricks, then burning fires between them for about a week).  The fire changes the bricks’ colors. They start out a light tan. They end up anywhere from a pale red (if they’re far from the heat) to a deep red (the best variety, not too close to the heat, but not too far away) to black (if they’re right by the flames).

The bricks have to dry out for several weeks
before they can be fired. There are thousands
waiting for the fiery furnace.

This is a dry, but as yet unfired brick.

The brickmakers gave us another good east coast climate explanation. We were told that out west, bricks can just be left to dry, then go straight into a building. But here in the humidity, they’ll crumble if they aren’t fired to get all the moisture out. The Williamsburg brick yard is the only fully operating fired brickmaker (if I remember correctly), so they get large orders for their wares from many places.

The magazine houses a very big gun
(over 5 feet long, I think) . . .

. . . and a very small cannon.

After a few more stops and traversing DOG Street several times, we ended the day with some cinder toffee, which is fabulous not only because it’s tasty, but also because it looks wacky.

And this is cinder toffee.
Yes, that is only one piece.

She's smiling a little too much
considering she's in the gaol.

And this is me cheerfully trying to escape.

The fife and drum corps is more colorful
in the summer than in the winter when
they wear their red coats.

General Washington giving the
locals an encouraging speech.

The Colonial Capitol.

Our next adventure was at Mt. Vernon, the erstwhile home of George Washington. The plantation is pleasant, the garden is beautiful, the house is interesting, and the museum is excellent. It is well worth a trip to the northern confines of Virginia.

Mt. Vernon (and scaffolding because they were re-shingling
the roof). The building looks like it's covered in stone, but
it's really wood with a paint and sand covering deliberately
trying to look like stone.

One of the stained glass windows in the museum.

Out in Washington's garden . . .

. . . where there are some
very tall plants.

Washington's innovative 16-sided treading barn.

Doing a little work on the plantation.

Washington's pier out on the Potomac.

After our day at Mt. Vernon, we spent the night with my aunt and uncle, who kindly loaned us some beds to save us some driving time. Even better, my aunt gave us a dulcimer lesson, we had a few rousing games of Sjoelbak (Dutch shuffleboard), and we were fed a delicious Dutch breakfast of “mousies” (or “vruchten hagel”)the next morning. The half of me that is Dutch was in heaven.  And the other half of me was heartily enjoying it.

(I’m happy to brag that my first shot of Sjoelbak went straight in the four-point slot, no doubt thanks to many hours playing in Grandma and Grandpa’s basement.)

Dulcimer lesson.

This is Sjoelbak.

And this is my game face.

After our delicious Dutch breakfast, we headed to Shenandoah National Park, where we spent a good portion of the day in fog. It was beautiful fog, of course. The sun eventually came out and we were able to see the rolling green mountains. The Blue Ridge Mountains aren’t rocky and stark or red and sculpted like mountains in the west; they’re softened lumps tamed by endless trees. But still worth a visit.

Did I mention it was foggy?

Shenandoah also has black bears; and we saw several (one meandering across the way and a few cubs up in a tree – way up; they were high enough to bend the branches they were sitting on). The bears became, in fact, the main attraction for the hikers we passed along the Dark Hollow Falls trail. (I’m sure the hikers appreciated the waterfalls as well.)

There are bears in this picture.
I promise.

The first part of Dark Hollow Falls.

Tree roots made some nice steps along the trail.

Everything is bigger out west . . . except the bugs.

I love rocks.

Dark Hollow Falls

Feeling our Shenandoah hiking was insufficient, we opted to spend another day on some local trails near the shore. We first went to see the Yorktown Monument (which Jennifer had only seen at dusk before; it’s a little easier to appreciate in the daylight). Then we spent a few hours wandering York River State Park and the trails around Taskinas Creek. We ended our shoreline day with a tasty fish dinner at the Bone Fish Grill.

There is a random stand of bamboo
close to the Yorktown Monument.
It makes me happy.

Taskenas Creek, in York River State Park.

We had to hike down to all the "overlooks" on the trail.
It is a weird concept for my brain.

Fossil beach.
(I don't know if there are any fossils,
but there are lots of broken shells,
sticks to throw in the water, and
tree trunks to climb on.)

The donuts from this place
are scrumptious.

Our Sunday was spent at church, riding the ferry from Jamestown to Scotland (no, not that Scotland), and feeding turtles. We intended to feed some birds, but we didn’t think to pull out my stale Honey-Nut Cheerios for the seabirds that were following the ferry; then when we stopped at the lake, the ducks and the geese were no-shows. So the turtles got all the treats instead.

The little bit of Old Jamestown that is
visible from the ferry.

 

Mine?

Our last big adventure was Appomattox Court House. It was a good time to visit, as they have some special items on display due to the Civil War sesquicentennial. My impression coming out of Appomattox is that it is a miracle the nation survived; and the Lord put specific leaders in place so it would. What a forgiving, humble, generous, unconventional way for a civil war to end.

Robert E. Lee's copy of the Surrender Terms.

Jennifer on the back deck
of the courthouse.

Parole passes were printed here for all of
Lee's soldiers so they could go straight home.

A little bit of fall sneaking into
the end of summer.

Historical Appomattox keeps its fire
hydrants in barrels.

A big chunk of cheese in the general store.

 

As for the end of our adventure, I spent our last morning enjoying scones, crossword puzzles, and the company of a good friend.

Chronicling Cross-Country

I needed an adventure.

Conveniently, my cousin and his wife needed an extra driver to help them move cross-country for medical school. Also conveniently, they were moving from my home state (Utah) to my current resident state (Virginia). Four drivers (my cousin, his wife, my aunt, and me), two vehicles (one car and one big yellow moving truck – with a second car on a trailer), and roughly 2,300 miles became the perfect recipe for a cross-country road trip. The only thing missing was a “Lynchburg or bust!” sign in the back window. But we had plenty of adventures nevertheless . . .

We set out on the first morning from my grandparents’ house, pointing our wheels toward Denver. It wasn’t long before we were headed over the Rockies, just in time for my first stint driving the moving truck. I discovered it was very slow on the uphills (apologies to those who were stuck behind us as we tried to pass the semis) and very fast on the downhills (yay for good gears and brakes).

We pulled into Denver that night hazard free and, thanks to my brother-in-law, with a good hotel room waiting for us. (Everyone was so impressed with his mad hotel wrangling skills, that we asked him to do find us places to stay throughout the rest of the trip; he graciously complied, which made the journey much easier and more pleasant for the rest of us.) We were then treated to an impromptu dulcimer concert from my aunt.

The emigrants: my cousin and his wife.
And my first truck parking job.

Our next destination was Independence, MO. On our way there we saw a lot of Kansas (crossing Kansas just takes longer than it looks like it should on the map), hay bales dressed up like Minions, other hay bales dressed up like American Gothic, and a crop-dusting plane worthy of an early 20^th century air show. (We did not stop to see the World’s Largest Ball of String or anything like that.)

And this is Kansas.

In Independence we went to the Visitor’s Center and took pictures on the Temple Lot. With a bit of looking around, we found where the corners of the temple would have been. 

A little later we went to Liberty Jail, where some of my favorite scriptures were received and written (D&C 123:16-17, D&C 121:45-46, D&C 122:8-9).

We also visited the Community of Christ’s temple, the inside of which is more like the Conference Center than an LDS temple. It has some appealing art and some interesting artifacts from the early history of the church. We all enjoyed comparing their hymnals to the LDS hymnbooks and were treated to some organ playing by an organist who was there to practice.

The Community of Christ
Temple

This tree is formed on layered
pieces of cloth.

Contemplating the organ
pipes in the sanctuary.

Next we headed to St. Louis. On our way into town, we were surprised by a tall building off the side of the freeway. We hadn’t known we were going to pass the St. Louis Temple, but sure enough, there was a bright white steeple topped by a statue of Moroni.

The St. Louis Temple surprised us as we drove by.
"Is that a Moroni on top? Yes, yes it is!"

Our aim was to eat a barbeque dinner at Pappy’s Smokehouse. Pappy’s was recommended to us with gusto by my cousin’s dad, so we made sure it was on our agenda. It is the type of place that doesn’t take reservations and sells out of food just about every night. They even post how much of certain dishes they have left for the customers still waiting in line. As we inched forward, I kept my eye on the number of ribs they had available (because if you are going to a specialty barbeque place, you should try the ribs). Guess who got the last ones? Yep, that would be me. And they were delicious.

I made a new friend at
Pappy's Smokehouse . . .

. . . and I got the last half rack of ribs.

My cousins and I grouped
around the Sold Out sign.

We also tried to see the Gateway Arch that night, but only sort of succeeded. The GPS sent us to the wrong side (where Missouri has jumped on the casino bandwagon) and by the time we were working our way back to the right side, it was getting late. As we passed the baseball stadium at the same time the game was getting out, we threw in the towel and headed to our hotel. Thus we only saw the arch from the car.

This jumble of signs was outside
our hotel. It was made in honor of
the local road configuration.

The next morning we attended church at a small branch in Mt. Vernon, IL where the speaker talked about the connection between teaching and learning (you can’t have one without the other) and the power and deliciousness of receiving the truth undiluted. We then set out through the skinny roads of Kentucky toward Mammoth Cave National Park. It was my turn to drive the moving truck again. I’ve driven many roads in Kentucky (as a missionary), but never in a big truck with a trailer. I found the experience a little over-stimulating, but we made it. And we did it without hitting anyone going the opposite direction and without going completely off the road (although the trailer wheels made frequent forays into the off-shoulder foliage). Good enough for me.

I tried to get on top of the sign, but didn't quite make it.

Waiting to start the Historic Tour.

It's kind of dark inside the cave. Our
tour guide had an old whale oil lantern
(sans whale oil, which is a little scarce
in Kentucky) and showed us what it
would have been like with only a
single lantern as a guide. The electric
lights showed us a lot more of the cave
than the old lantern would have.

The next day we left the truck at the hotel and went back to Mammoth Cave National Park in the car. There, we took the Historic Tour, which is a great one for hearing about saltpeter (the source of the phrase “petered out”), the boy who found the cave by following a bear, abandoned corsets (because why wouldn’t you discard such a thing to climb through a cave), the CCC building a stairway up over the dome, slaves guiding people through the caves, the bottomless pit (an auditory and visual illusion), and a handful of other stories. We successfully navigated “Fat Man’s Misery”, which was followed immediately by “Tall Man’s Misery” (being neither fat nor tall – nor a man, for that matter – neither of these were particularly problematic for me). The tour took us on a big loop through several sections of the cave and I found myself wishing I could do a time trial to see how fast I could get through it (I would want a headlamp, of course).

Standing at the only natural entrance to the cave.

I think this is the only picture where we managed to get all four
of us. We found the above butterfly posing for us near the river
Styx. The caterpillar was hanging out on the Mammoth Cave sign.

Before too long, we arrived in Virginia. We spent a night at my aunt and uncle’s house in Sterling, where we loaded a few more things into the moving truck (and all got a very good night’s sleep after a week on the road). The next morning we piled into the cars once more to caravan out to Lynchburg.

We ran into a lot of rain (literally) during our drive
into Sterling.

The caravan was great fun. My cousins were in the moving truck. I followed in their car. My aunt followed in another car so she would be able to drive me back to Williamsburg and herself back home. And my uncle followed in another car so he could get back to work the next day after helping with the move. The fabulous part was having walkie talkies, which were not only useful (they are so much easier than cell phones for group communication), but entertaining. We assigned code names (the moving truck was Big Lemon), played games, joked with each other, and generally enjoyed ourselves. Driving in a caravan is much more fun when walkie talkies are involved.

My cousins outside their new
apartment on move in day.

Lynchburg, despite its somewhat ominous name, is a good town. We spent the afternoon moving things in to my cousins’ apartment (which went very quickly thanks to help from the ward and some students). That evening we were treated to dinner by some kind and generous ward members (I believe there is a special place in heaven for people who will invite five strangers to join them for a somewhat impromptu meal).

My aunt and I (my uncle was already on his way to work) spent the next morning exploring a little bit of Lynchburg; we found an intriguing war memorial and took some pictures of the medical school. After helping return the moving truck to the rental place (which first required convincing the trailer to attach itself once again to the hitch), we bid my cousins farewell and got on the road toward Williamsburg.

My favorite part of the Lynchburg war memorial.
The rest of the memorial was a series of steps with
a landing for each major conflict in US history and
one for MIAs and POWs.

Liberty University College of Osteopathic Medicine

Before we went too far, however, we found ourselves right by Appomattox Court House (which, we learned, is a town, not a building). So of course we pulled off the road to see it. We didn’t have much time, but we stopped in Appomattox Courthouse (which is a building – and now a visitor’s center – but is not where Lee and Grant met) to see some of the displays and watch a video about Lee’s surrender. Then we went across the road and toured the big house where the surrender took place. We saw enough of the park to know we want to go back and see more.

Appomattox Courthouse
(located in Appomattox Court House)

This is the (rebuilt) house where
Lee surrendered to Grant . . .

. . . which is interesting to compare to the
slave quarters out back.

The flags were at half-mast on the day we
visited Appomattox. It seemed appropriate,
considering the nature of the site.

Then we were back on the road again. We made it safely to Williamsburg, after which my aunt set off on the very last leg of the journey back to her home in Sterling. (Somewhat inconveniently, Lynchburg, Williamsburg, and Sterling are all in different corners of Virginia. Many thanks to my aunt for going several hours out of her way to drop me off!)

My aunt, the kind soul who was willing
to drive an extra three hours to
bring me back to Williamsburg.

My cousin has, since then, started school and had his white coat ceremony (which is a medical school thing, apparently). I’m excited for him and his wife and this new adventure they’ve started.

Meanwhile for me, I have a few more weeks before classes start. So I get to do a little more adventuring. Appomattox, anyone?

Hanging On

Waiting in the Denver airport under
the powder coated steel Denver Lily

I have a new favorite hobby: hanging on the top of a climbing wall. Well, the parts I really like are the climbing and rappelling; the view from the top is more like receiving a participant medal at the end of a race.

But more on that later.

At the start of the summer I wasn’t in the best mood. The end of last semester left me feeling ground down and I was not anxious to grind my way back up. That’s when my dad concocted a plan to surprise my mom by flying me to Colorado for a family vacation.

With a little help from my six-year-old niece (involving some unexpected ad-libbing), we pulled off the surprise and my family was all together for a few days of fun in Boulder and Denver. I followed that up with a few days at home in Salt Lake City, a week and a half back in Virginia, another week at home, and finally a cross-country drive with my cousin and his wife (and my aunt) to help them move to Virginia for medical school.

When I was dropped off back in my apartment in Williamsburg at the end of all that vacationing, I felt very different than I had at the beginning of the summer.

Being with my family has several predictable outcomes: I eat much better (my family members all either cook much better than I do or know the good restaurants to go to); I shop more (it’s not very exciting to shop alone, so I rarely do; they also know where to find outlet stores); I see several movies I haven’t seen (Inside Out, Avatar, Lincoln); and I read books I otherwise might not get around to (The Fault in Our Stars, the Divergent series).

All of those things happened this summer.

But the important thing that happened was being with my family. The time I spent with them worked a world of difference on my feelings and outlook.

Which brings me back to climbing. Our last activity before I left for Virginia was putting my dad’s new climbing gear to use. Mom and Dad spent a few hours belaying while my brother and I scrambled up various sides of an indoor climbing wall – and fell off a few others. Despite the exertion, it was relaxing and fun; not because someone was below me holding a rope to keep me from falling, but because we were there together.

That’s what mattered for me this summer, just being together. Thank goodness for the influence of a good family.

_______________________

Guess where we went . . .

Other summer developments:

• The big event of our Colorado weekend was the Ironman 70.3 in Boulder. While my brothers swam, biked, and ran, the rest of us played games, napped, ate, and participated in brief outbursts of cheering whenever our guys were within calling distance. My favorite part of the weekend was getting a hug from my brother after he crossed the finish line, exhausted but triumphant. The family that races together stays together, you know.

It was a chilly morning before the triathlon started,
but it was plenty hot later. (I came back very sunburned.)

• Looking for an adventurous hamburger? Try Crave Real Burgers. The Wise Guy is very tasty. My nieces and nephews are big fans of the fried pickles (yes, I tried them; yes, they were sort of good – I’m no longer decidedly opposed to pickles).

They're all pickle kids.
They must get it from their mom, because she's the
only one who liked pickles when we were little.

• Speaking of good food, we highly recommend sweet rolls from the Denver Biscuit Company. Fair warning, there are about four servings in one sweet roll, or two servings if you did a half-ironman the day before.

These are big. And tasty.



I can't help feeling this
seating choice was a
little unstable.

• We spent one afternoon in the Denver Downtown Aquarium. Best attraction there: spitting fish. They allowed some of the patrons (including my nieces, nephew, and sister) to hold crickets over a tank of archer fish. The fish responded in true archer fish fashion by knocking the crickets down with streams of water and eating them for lunch. The aquarium also boasts a nice shark tank, some entrancing jellyfish (moon jellyfish are neat-o), and an octopus that was pretty good at hiding in plain sight. And, in a bit of a non sequitur, a tiger.

• My nephew and I tried to hold our breaths while driving through a tunnel, but didn’t make it. Alas. (It was a long tunnel.)

• The drive to Salt Lake City with my brother was nice. After we managed to scrape into a gas station on an almost empty tank of gas (his truck holds 21.1 gallons; he bought about 21 gallons – when we say fill the tank, we mean fill the WHOLE tank), we spent the next few hours on a range of philosophical topics. He’s my go-to guy for discussions like that.

• Walking into my parent’s house in SLC can be summed up in the emotional and mental contentment of the phrase I’m home.

Finding a good seat
somewhere along the trail 

• My mom, sister, grandma, aunt, and I spent one day in Utah as a girls’ day out. We walked to Bridal Veil Falls, visited Pres. Packer’s art exhibit at the Bean Museum (my favorite piece was The Bishop’s Team), and got shaved ice from Hokulia (thanks for the treat, Grandma!). In case you’re wondering, Hokulia makes the best shaved ice ever. It’s just yum. You should eat some.

• Climbing is not only my favorite new hobby, it is also my Dad's favorite new hobby; and it's quickly becoming a family pursuit. I've been told that my oldest niece is a regular monkey when it comes to climbing, my youngest niece has some fearless bouldering skills, and my nephew would happily rappel off almost anything. Note to self: next time bring chalk and rent climbing shoes.

Showing off their mad bouldering skills.

This is Balanced Rock. Unlike the
formation in Arches, this one has
a concrete stabilizer. But that was
probably a good idea given its
precarious position above the road.

Me with Grandma, Mom, and my sister at
Bridal Veil Falls
(my aunt was taking the picture)

3L

I survived my 2L year.

And I’ve been avoiding the law school ever since. After going there almost every week for a year and a half, it’s been nice to be away from it for a while.

Compared to my 1L year, 2L ended somewhat abruptly. Grades were posted quickly and there was no journal competition tacked on to the end of the year. Quite suddenly I switched from being a 2L to being a “rising 3L.”

That means, of course, that I have only two semesters left; and consequently only two more exam periods. (Let’s not talk about the bar exam.) Finals are a small part of the semester, but being nearly done with them is still a relieving thought.

One of the perks to being a 3L is it’s much easier to answer the question, “How much school do you have left?”, which is an unexpectedly hard query in the middle of a three year degree. Stating I’ll be finished next spring is so much easier than trying to explain I’m somewhere between 1/3 and 2/3 of the way done.

A friend told me last year that during 1L they scare you to death, during 2L they work you to death, and during 3L they bore you to death. That hasn’t quite been my actual experience, but it does roughly parallel the mental experience of law school. 1L was intimidating and intense. 2L was grinding. 3L looks, thus far, like something to wade through in order to get the required number of credits.

But, I have a few months of break before discovering whether the 3L part is true. For now I’ll be staying away from South Henry Street and enjoying the broader delights of Williamsburg and the Mid-Atlantic region.

Trying to Be a Currant Bush

I keep hearing people talk about how nice our spring days are. I do a mental double-take each time because, due to the end of the semester and the outside temperatures, it feels like summer to me.

The semester isn’t completely over, but nearly so. I took my two finals last week, which leaves me with one writing assignment and about 20 hours of research to finish. It feels good to be almost done.

My finals were fine. The Religion Clauses test was the most laid back final I’ve taken in law school. It was only two and a half hours and it was a subject I enjoy. My Employment Law test was similarly worry-free; it consisted mostly of short answer questions rather than essays and the time passed quickly. I couldn’t work myself into much effort to prepare for either one. I made a short outline for Religion Clauses and I took my Employment Law notes for a 5½ mile walk around the neighborhood; but besides that, my mind was just done studying.

Or maybe I’m just not as stressed about finals as I was before. I’ve finally realized that even if I don’t feel I did well on a final, the likelihood of actually failing is pretty slim. Maybe my mind has realized it’s just not worth the worry.

So why did I worry so much before? Maybe it’s just the nature of law school. Someone described it to me this way: law school makes you feel small. It makes you feel like you can’t make a difference and you aren’t big enough to succeed, let alone thrive. It makes you feel like you aren’t living up to expectations. Law school is rough on self-confidence.

But maybe it’s okay to feel small for while. It brings to mind Elder Hugh B. Brown’s story of the currant bush (a nice summary of which was given by Elder D. Todd Christofferson). Maybe feeling small is the Gardner’s way of letting me know I’m still a work in progress. There are still things to prune and branches to grow. The fruit will come later; for now, I just need to keep being a currant bush.

___________________

There are thousands of these
flowers around the neighborhood.

Tidbits:

• One of the foundational cases for the Supreme Court religion clauses doctrine is Wisconsin v. Yoder, commonly abbreviated to Yoder.  As we were discussing the development of Supreme Court doctrine in class one day, my professor accidentally suggested that for certain cases, we should “look to Yoda.”
• Calling on the force for constitutional interpretation isn’t necessarily a bad idea. One opinion I read summarized some of the religion clauses doctrine this way: it’s constitutional, except when it’s not.
• Some of the confusion is because the Supreme Court refuses to be bound by a single analysis in such a sensitive area. One common analysis they use, the Lemon test, is apparently a zombie. Though the justices don’t really like it, they can’t seem to help applying the test on occasion. It keeps cropping up like “some ghoul in a late-night horror movie that repeatedly sits up in its grave and shuffles abroad, after being repeatedly killed and buried” (Justice Scalia, concurring in Lamb’s Chapel v. Center Moriches Union Free School Dist., 508 U.S. 384, 398 (1993)). See? It’s a zombie.
• In Employment Law, we talked about the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA), which (due to the ease with which employees can take advantage of it) has been called the “Friday and Monday Leave Act.”
• We also talked about a case that is in my professor’s “you can’t make this stuff up” category: it was a case of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) willfully violating the Fair Labor Standards Act. Not a good idea.
• Then there was the trade secrets act case. To sue regarding a trade secret, an employer has to take reasonable measures to protect the information from disclosure. Apparently in one case, the judge came into court and told the employer he had just Googled the so-called secret information. That case didn’t last very long. 

The goslings are out.