We got a new cat a couple weeks ago.

You know the little boy who sees a lonely animal on the street or in a park or downtown at a cafe or tied up on a leash on someone’s front porch, falls in love with it and brings it home to mom with a plaintive, “Can I keep it?”

Well, those boys eventually grow up; I married one of them so I know.

Like I said, we got a new cat the other day.

It was a week before Halloween and Rich and I were celebrating our friend Laura’s birthday at this trendy restaurant when we saw this scrawny (and dirty) – but cute and friendly – black cat on the sidewalk in downtown San Jose. The thing was skin and bones, was begging for food from people and instinctively went to Rich for attention.

I counted the seconds until Rich turned to me and asked. “Can we take it home?”

I said no. I always say no. I said no – repeatedly – as I’ve done for the past five years.

But somehow over the past five years, we still ended up bringing home Joey (the only dog in the bunch) and Taffy anyway. (Boris was here before I arrived, but he has given me permission to stay – as long as he is allowed to sleep on my head at night.)

And as of a few days ago, now we have Toby, the scrawny black cat.

Like I said, I told Rich no. No. We have way too many pets using the cat box I have to clean already.

Then Nicole, a supposed friend, who was with us out on the town that night, turned to me and said, “Do you know what people do to stray black cats on Halloween?”

Ugh. No wasn’t the right answer anymore. Now, if we didn’t take the cat home, I’d be a murderer.

So, now I have another cat – that makes three cats, one dog and a Husband.

Alright, Steph has given me a meme case of the cooties. The cure: I have to do the following:

  1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog. 
  2. Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself. 
  3. Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs. 
  4. Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

OK, here goes:

Step One: See Above

Step Two: Seven Random Things About Me:

  • After college (the first time I went to college), I was so poor I took a temp job for $8 an hour at a hospital laundry in Fort Wayne, Indiana. My job consisted of filling in for a machine – because the automatic sheet folder conked out. So, for 8 hours, another temp fool and I folded by hand hundreds and hundreds of hot and moist 150-degree sheets as they came off an assembly line. At the end of the first day, I had no finger prints – just very sore shiny spots where my fingertips used to be. It took four days for my fingers to heal and for the prints to come back. Needless to say, I did *not* go back for a second day there. Besides, all the machines and conveyor belts reminded me too much of Soylent Green in that nasty/nasty multi-colored red/yellow/brown stuff went in one end and CLEAN WHITE SHEETS came out the other.
  • When I finally graduate from Law School, I will have spent a total of 12 years in college (both undergrad and grad schooling).
  • I got married on February 15, 2004 in the San Francisco City Hall. The Supreme Court of California nullified the marriage a couple of months later. My Mom says Rich is still her son-in-law anyway.
  • I have 5 brothers and sisters. Including me, that’s three boys and three girls – like the Brady Bunch. (I’m Bobby in order). Of the six kids, all of my parents’ children are named (first and/or middle name) after relatives – except me. I don;t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
  • Once when I was a snotty teenager (I grew out of this phase at age 31 or so), in a fit of evil bile temper and tirade, I told my mom I didn’t ask to be born. She told me that she and my dad didn’t ask for me either, but the “rubber broke.” That shut me up but good. After having lived with a smart-mouth teenager of my own all I have to say now is: nice job, mom!
  •  My best friend from High School (Gary Anderson) and my husband have the SAME EXACT birthday: July 26, 1968. Well, that’s not about me, is it? How’s this: As of right now, I have 1,584 MyCokeRewards points. Random enough for ya?
  • I once did a book report in the fourth grade on Edgar Allen Poe’s Pit and the Pendulum. After I handed it in, my teacher accused me of not having read the book and of having one of my older brothers or sisters write the report for me. Her accusations made me break down and cry in front of the entire class. (By the way, I did read the Poe story and I understood it and I wrote my own dang report.) I had to write another book report on a book SHE chose from the library: Everybody needs a Rock by Byrd Baylor. And she watched me read it … all 32 illustrated pages. It was a pretty juvenile book – even for a fourth grader. My book report said that Rock was boring and meant for little kids and was the kind of book I’d never pick out for myself since it had too many pictures and didn’t allow me to imagine things for myself. I went on to write about another book that I read the previous weekend, called, The Hobbit. And compared it to Rock and explained why it was a much better book since it took the reader to strange and new worlds. I got a grade of C. Bitch.

Step 3: Jaime, Jim, Heather, Grace, Vita, JL, Doug

Step 4: Off to do that now…


Tomorrow morning I get to take my MPRE exam. The initials stand for the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam.

The MPRE is an ethics exam – it’s supposed to weed out people who do not understand how to tell right from wrong in a legal setting. 

It’s one of those fill-in-the-dot exams where you get to pick the best answer of four options. But from the practice tests I’ve taken, usually the true best answer for each scenario is not among the four choices presented. So, instead of “best” answer the test is actually “choose the least bad” answer of the bunch presented.

My professional responsibility professor says the examiners do it this way on purpose – it’s to test the way we reason, not that we memorized a group of rules.

The odd thing is there are two types of people who take this exam: law students and attorneys who had an ethics violation and are told by the state bar that they need to re-take the MPRE as punishment.

Of course, I am 39 – which means that some of the other students there who are not from my school are going to be assuming because of my age that I am an unethical attorney doing penance.