A Bit Late For The Fourth

A less photographed view of the new Air Force Memorial

Arlington, VA (March 2007)

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Challenge Declined

6:00 pm, Tuesday evening

“Chicagoan, you look tired.”

“Maybe that’s because I am.”

“Why? How many hours did you bill last month?”

“280.”

“Oh, well, once Partner X billed 433. That’s more than half of the hours that exist in any month!”

“That’s nice.”

“What? You aren’t striving for that?”

Filing that one away in the category of things I don’t need to hear after averaging 9 hours of substantive work for each day of the previous 31-day month.

Mother's Day

My married friends tell me that as soon as you tie the knot the parental pestering aimed at getting married turns immediately to parental pestering about when the grandchildren are going to arrive. I am very familiar with the marriage-related parental pestering: although the most of the bothering emanated from the matriarchs of my family, as is the usual course, they began to bother me at the rather unusually early age of 18. Recently, however, the pressure has somewhat subsided. Perhaps it’s because they think the last time I had a date was 2002. And since the truth is not all that much more encouraging, I’m content to keep them in the dark.

They’ve replaced the marriage pestering, however, with the charming habit of bothering me about when my married friends are going to have children. So, just in case you didn’t hear it enough from your own families, my family wants to know when you are going to have babies (because they are tired of waiting for mine).