Shelley's Case

Not like the others

Every time I'm at some law school alumni function and someone asks me what I do (represent victims of sex abuse/rape/child molestation in civil cases) people pause and say, "Oh, wow.  I am so glad you do that because I couldn't."   Or they make a face, or they do both. This always annoys me, because what they invariably do - family law or criminal defense or environmental regulatory something or other - would make me want to poke my eyes out with sticks. 

Because I'm a civil litigator. I think in terms of motions to dismiss and summary judgments and the discovery avalanche that goes with any civil case.  It's just that my subject matter is a lot more, well, lurid than most other stuff that gets litigated.  And I can't talk about my cases in polite company (which, fortunately, I don't spend much time in) or in front of my toddler (where I do spend a lot of time).  Still, what I talk about at work all day, every day, is pretty nasty stuff.  I just...forget that sometimes.  

Case in point?  I was asked my favorite hat movie while hat shopping.  The first thing that popped into my head was M, because of the great men's hats.  I started to explain the film - directed by Fritz Lang, stars Peter Lorre, fabulous film...about a child murderer/pedophile being pursued by a group of beggars and the cops. I went on and on until I realized what I was talking about and I stopped.  (The other person's favorite hat movie?  The original Thomas Crowne movie.  I felt about three inches tall for imposing my weird world on her, even briefly.)

But it really is a great film.  Heck, come on over, and we can watch it together - I have a special anniversary DVD version.  We'll just have to wait 'til after Peach has gone to bed.

Funny how I didn't read about this in the American news

Two Pennsylvania judges admit taking kickbacks.

UPDATE: And here's another one!

Yeah, I'm a law geek

Matthew used gift cards to purchase a new iPod for me recently.  (He wants me to be able to take ALL of my photos and videos of Eden to show off in Finland next month.)  Because I have so much extra space, I have finally been getting into podcasts.  Today I discovered the Oyez Project, and just about peed with pure joy and excitement.  Does it get much better than this?!   

Lots of good stuff

This time, this day, last year, I insisted that a nurse wheel me down to the NICU to visit my new baby - all 4 lbs, 12 oz of her.  (Because I was still on the magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures, due to my ultra high blood pressure, I had to be accompanied by an RN.  And can you believe they didn't let Matthew count?)  I was so shaky that the only thing I could manage to do was touch her foot, but even then, I was entranced.  They would bring her to me another 24 hours later, after I had been taken off the magnesium sulfate. 

We actually celebrated her birthday Sunday with a low-key event with neighbors.  My sense of her is that a big celebration would throw her off, and besides, I am trying to keep her *stuff* down to a minimum.  (I did decide that if I had a full-blown party, I was just going to ask people to bring an old pot or wooden spoon for her to bang together.)  And I was pretty restrictive with the cake - although I needn't have worried.  The chocolate was a bit too rich for her, anyway. 

Here she is Sunday:

And here she is today.  You can't tell, but she managed to mix white cupcake in with her whole wheat pasta.  It was a mess! She was listening to Auntie Sarah and Uncle Rob sing Happy Birthday (Cha-cha-cha) to her. 

In other news -- and this is my big news -- I've joined a Portland solo practitioner as his associate.  I've actually been working for him for a year and a half as a contract attorney -- doing the plaintiff sex abuse work -- but it's now formal.  I met him at Dania last night and we picked out office furniture, even.  I start Monday!  I'll be in the Pearl, if anyone wants to meet for lunch.  There is the *best* bento place nearby. 

What the Guardian gets wrong about judges - and Vegas

Silly Guardian.  Every Nevadan knows the Star Trek Experience is at the Hilton, not Caesar's. 

(And the new robes?  They're goofy, sure.  But the old robes were also goofy.  Although I have to agree with the "evil pastor" sentiment - can I get one for my father to wear on Halloween?)

One for the casebooks

One of the saddest things I hear about as an attorney are cases of the elderly being taken advantage of by opportunists.  It's becoming so common, and in watching my grandparents age, I can see how easily it could happen. 

This case, decided by the Court of Appeals today, has an amazing set of facts - if it doesn't get you to remember what undue influence is, I can't imagine what will. 

Contracting Work Dissected

One of the ways I've earned money since law school is by doing contract research and writing.  Almost all of my contracting work has come from solo practitioners, and the rest from small firms, so I can't speak to the big-firm contracting experiences (mostly negative) I've read about online, where the contractors are in sweatshop-like conditions.  (I'm assuming the bloggers were exaggerating -- at least, I hope so.) 

I get asked a lot about contact work from law students and new grads who are looking for work or who aren't sure what they want to do yet, and who think contracting may be a good way to tide them over until they get a "real" job (or open a solo practice) or figure out what it is they really want to do.

Basically, a contract attorney in my position gets called at the last (or nearly last) minute to perform some research and writing task that the principal attorney doesn't have the time or motivation to do.  Occasionally (though more often for me recently), the contract attorney will get a call from an attorney who just wants to bounce ideas off of the contractor and discuss strategy.  The most common place I'll get called in, though, is to respond to motions for summary judgment. 

I get asked a lot about how I find work.  Just about every contract job I have is through word of mouth, from classmates and from other practitioners.  I've responded to a few ads, but only one of them netted anything. 

I enjoy contract work, for the most part.  I love going through discovery (though I'd probably hate it if it was my primary function) and digging for useful facts.  I love reading depositions.  I love making legal arguments, and I love working on complex litigation.  I really love rinding out that it's my memo or brief that kept the case from being tossed.  Another plus?  Attorneys pay more regularly than clients, and usually quite promptly.

Contract work will also give you great exposure to other areas of law that you might never have even thought existed.  (Often the questions I'm asked to research are novel -- the easy issues lawyers handle themselves.)  There's a lot of room for creativity.  And if you didn't know your jurisdictions rules for civil procedure or local rules, you will learn them in a hurry with contract work.  You'll get used to saying, "Sure, that sounds interesting!"

But there are drawbacks. It's not something you're likely to make a terrific living from in the beginning.  Sometimes you have more work than you can handle, but most of the time you don't, and it's impossible to predict when the lean times will come.  (December 2006 I was crazy busy, but December 2007 was almost completely dry.) 

And how do you know what to charge?  Sometimes the local law school career services office can point you at a range, but it's still an art form.  Attorneys (like clients, or anyone else) tend to put a value on services, and if you charge too little, you may be perceived as downmarket.  If you charge too much, you may price yourself out of a job. (Even though they will likely triple what you bill and pass that on to the client.)

And attorneys can be difficult to work for.  Some solos are difficult personalities, or at least very particular people.  Some micromanage and want constant updates.  Some want a yes person -- basically, someone to rubber stamp or verify what they want to do.  When this happens to me, I try to explain why something will probably not work, but also try to point out areas where an argument might be strengthened.   (In this way, contract lawyering is like any other job I've ever had: I am a good "no" person.)

Another consideration is office culture -- is the attorney the controlling type, who doles out information in dribs and drabs and always leaves you guessing about the rest of the case?  It's frustrating, because while they may have all the facts about the case in their head, I don't -- and I can't do my best work product without reading the file, top to bottom.  Sometimes I'll spot something that I can use.   So always try to get as much of the client file as you can before you work on a project -- insist on reading the depositions, even if the attorney tells you not to bother.  (They may not want to pay your hourly rate for you to do the extra file review, but you've gotta do it -- even if they do act as though you're pulling the food from their children's mouths.)   

Sometimes it's hard being in the background.  Only one attorney I regularly work for will trumpet my involvement to both his clients and to other attorneys -- usually I don't get any credit at all.  Sometimes it's a bit strange writing something that someone else will sign his or her name to -- there's no dishonesty (although bar associations have been jumping all over attorneys who draft paperwork for pro ses to file), but it's just...odd.  Often I never know how things turn out after I finish the assignment and email an invoice.  One attorney I do work for a few times a year, so months will go by without my hearing from him, and I'll wonder if I did a good job or if he hated it.  The only way I'll know is when the next job from him goes in. 

There's more, certainly, but this is a start.  I composed this between moving furniture, dealing with the Direct TV guy and a barking dog and crying baby, attending a baby shower, and moving more furniture.  I'm beat.   On the plus side?  The Peach's nursery is almost complete!

Lawyers Appreciate....

PT-LawMom tagged me to participate in this year's "Lawyers Appreciate..."  campaign.  Here are five of the things I appreciate the most in my practice.

1. Honesty.  From clients, opposing parties, opposing counsel, staff, and jurists.  As a newbie lawyer, I remember how shocked I was when I realized clients lie to their attorneys.  I went across the street, to where my experienced lawyer neighbor was working in his wood shop and blurted, "You didn't tell me that everyone lies!"  (Which, in retrospect, was an odd way of bringing up the subject -- it's obvious now that I felt very betrayed by my client, who had very flagrantly misrepresented his situation.) He gave me a beer, sat me down, and explained exactly why it is clients lie.
   
   Now I've learned to see through a lot of the BS, but it's difficult for me.  I take people at face value, either because I know them to be truthful, or because I know it isn't socially productive to question what they're telling me.  (I had been trained, in social situations, not to point out people's inaccuracies.) In time, maybe, I'll get more artful at my anti-lying speech, which currently goes something like this: "In order for me to do my best for you, you must be completely truthful with me, even if you think you've done or said something that could hurt your position. I need to know, so that I can deal with it."
   
   
2. Articulate opposing counsel.  I do a lot of written work, a fair amount of which is "pure" legal writing in response to someone else's memo or brief.  Nothing annoys me more than a  stream-of-consciousness, cobbled together memorandum.  It's very difficult to put together an organized, thoughtful response to a chaotic piece of work - it requires a complete reframing of the issues from the ground up.  Sometimes it's impossible to really tell what arguments they're making.  Occasionally, it's taken me hours just to organize a response, because the opening document is so completely random - not a good use of anyone's time or money.  And I always wonder if a judge reads the opening memo or brief, then throws up his or her hands and ignores mine, preferring instead to let the parties duke it out in oral argument. 
   
   But when I get a beautiful piece of legal writing to respond to?  It makes my job so much easier.  I can respond point-by-point to their arguments and I can focus on the substance, rather than the organization.  It's heavenly.
   
   
3. Civil opposing counsel.    Attorneys who don't take themselves seriously are wonderful to work with.  I'm talking about both courtly counsel who treat me like a grown-up, even though their bar numbers predate my parents' first date, as well as the counsel who weren't old enough to watch Charles and Di tie the knot.  I blogged earlier about the good ol' boy who likes to pretend I don't exist, even though I'm making him work for his fees.  Although I find that sort of thing pathetic rather than insulting, at least he's quiet about his deprecation.  What drives me nuts are the guys (and they are guys) who call and start ranting about the horrible things my client has done, even before I've finished saying "hello."  (Note to these guys: it takes a lot to intimidate me.  That won't cut it.) 
   
   But those who are comfortable in their own skins and don't need to posture, who let the legal issues and the factual issues speak for themselves, and leave the saber-rattling for the courtroom?  I so much enjoy working with them. 
   
   
4. Non-attorney friends.  I consider it a huge victory to have kept my friends through law school, when I was a rotten friend to them.  Often, when I'm feeling down on myself because I haven't done something or other as well as I think I ought, or because I feel like I should be further along in my master career plan, my non-attorney friends put it all in perspective for me.  They have told me how proud they are of me, and of how nice it is for them to be able to say, "My friend, the lawyer...." and to have me around to ask questions of.   It really means a lot.   And oh, to be able to talk with people who don't want to talk about the law?  It's wonderful.  In case you haven't noticed, most law is pretty boring.  I'm glad people still want to have me around, even if my conversation skills are substantially limited, and I'm known to rant on and on about the misuse of the word "foreseeable."
5. Doctor jokes.  Everyone's got lawyer jokes -- my father has told me the same joke, over and over, about the lawyers in the bottom of the ocean ("a good start" is the punchline).  I'm not sure why people love to get their digs into lawyers, considering all the good lawyers do in the world, but the jokes are ubiquitous. (And if someone else tells me that they can't possibly vote for John Edwards because "he's a rich lawyer," I will probably hurl.)
   
   To my mind, doctors engage in serious ethical conflicts, such that would get an attorney in my state in deep water.  Most doctors take gifts, large and small, from drug companies for "education purposes," but really so the doctors will prescribe the company's drugs.  To me, it screams "self-dealing" and "bias," and remember, we're talking about something that impacts whether a person lives or dies (not whether they make or lose money in a lawsuit).  Many spend only five minutes at a time with each patient, while charging $120 (or more) for the "visit" (OK, I know they may only get $60, but it's still a lucrative 5 minutes.)   They don't hire RNs to assist them, but marginally trained "medical assistants."  Here, at least, they do an abysmal job at policing themselves via their state board, and it's very difficult to get a malpractice claim to stick. 
   
   But the strangest bit yet, they blame lawyers for their malpractice insurance.  So yes, I love my doctor jokes.

I tag: Skelly, Mellow, and Yin and Yang.

A day in the life (or why I love four day weekends)

In the juggling act that is my work-at-home life, one of the things that has to give when I'm in crunch time is blogging -- for that, I'm sorry about the recent silence. I'm fine, health-wise, Matthew and the baby are healthy (although the Peach is now fond of making a weird sucking-in-breathing sound -- deliberately, Matthew determined -- which freaks me out every time I hear it, and I hope she forgets about it soon).   Life is pretty good. 

But the balancing -- well, did I ever mention how much I sucked at gymnastics?  I knew hitting the six month mark would mean she'd be much more demanding on my time, but didn't quite realize how much more.  Naps?  Maybe five minutes, maybe an hour.  Time to schedule a conference call?  I never bet on it.  Time to work on documents while she plays?  Only if I'm OK with drafting documents a sentence at a time. (Seriously: I drafted a response to a petition for review a sentence at a time.  It was maddening, but I did it and it didn't suck.  Why aren't there awards for that sort of thing?)  I absolutely love the clients and colleagues who communicate with me via email, because I dread phone calls -- the dog will bark, or the baby will cry, or UPS will appear at the door and then the dog will bark and wake up the baby who will cry.  It's the work-at-home trifecta.

Here's an example of an average day in the life:

5:00 am: Peach starts to fuss (in her papasan) or kick me (in our bed), signaling to me that meltdown is imminent, and I should start to prepare a bottle.  Matthew is awake and getting ready to go. 

5:30 am: Peach has been fed and I am falling asleep while holding her. Into her swing she goes.  Occasionally she fusses at me and so I'll sleep on the couch in her room (still partially our den - the TV and couch will be moving out of there in the next month).  Also, I will sleep on the couch if I lack the energy to get up and move into the bedroom.

8:00 am: Phone rings.  Matthew, client, colleague -- I don't know.  I answer and manage to sound awake and alert.  I write everything down, because otherwise I will forget it. 

8:05 am: Peach is awake and smiling at me.  I take her out of the swing and put her on her blanket on the floor.  She rolls around while I go in search of caffeine -- Diet Dr. Pepper or coffee.  Sometimes the coffee is a day old.  I microwave it and don't care. 

8:10 am: Water is running while I am changing Peach.  She's realized that she is hungry and her gums hurt, so she whines and sticks her fingers (or toes) in her mouth.  I hop up, wash hands, and make the bottle. 

8:10 am: While feeding Peach, I switch the Harmony remote to my left hand and turn on the TV (TiVo).  I mentally curse the American Pediatric Association for the guilt I live with as a result.  I angle Peach towards me, so that she can't see the TV.   

8:30 am: Thanks to a short attention span and the thirty-second skip hack for the TiVo, I finish a 30 minute program - currently BBC America favorites "You Are What You Eat" and "How Clean Is Your House?" (the latter has been marvelous for getting me to do things like clean the door shelves in my refrigerator in my few moments of free time). Peach goes back onto her blanket to play and roll around, and I grab some of her toys and books.  She's into eating her books, not being read to, but we try to do both. 

9:00 am: Peach is getting bored and fussy, but isn't ready to take a nap yet.  If she's spit up on herself, she takes a bath.  If not, I change her into a "daytime" outfit and skip the bath (although now that she's wearing mostly 12 month outfits, of which we have not been given a lot, there's a lot less pressure on me to make sure she wears everything).

9:10 am: Peach goes into the jumperoo (in the computer room) and I make my to-do list, check my email, and try to do a little bit more on the Times Sunday crossword (it now takes me about five days to complete).  Look at blogs, maybe start a post, but then:

9:40 am: Peach starts the morning meltdown. I pick her up, change her, and put her in her swing. She's out before the music stops on the swing. 

9:45 am: I start working.  I'm still in my PJs, but I can't let a nap go to waste. 

10:45 am: The dog barks and wakes Peach.  Sometimes she'll go back to sleep, but mostly not.  We'll play for a little while. We play an elementary version of "Pat-a-Cake," which means I hold out both of my hands, palms facing her, say "Pat-a-Cake" and then she smiles and puts her hands against mine.  (We're nowhere near, say, the clapping bit.) 

11:15 am: The feeding-playing-changing cycle restarts.  While she's playing, I will try to work on my laptop - usually a sentence at a time.

1:00 pm: Peach goes down for a nap.  I check the email again and then take a quick shower and dress. 

1:30 pm: (Yes, I can go from shower to hair done/make-up done in 30 minutes.)  Work.  Maybe dishes and laundry. 

2:30 pm: Peach wakes up.  I feed her and watch TV - Flip That House, maybe, or What Not to Wear. 

4:00 pm: Maybe a nap for Peach, maybe not.  I am exhausted by this point.  I clean up the room while Peach plays and try to figure out what is for dinner.  If Peach takes a nap, I can usually put something together -- or I might just fall asleep, too, and not wake up until Matthew gets home.  Or, if Peach doesn't take a nap, send a text message to Matthew to bring something home. Think about "You Are What You Eat" and insist on salads. 

6:00 pm:  Matthew is home.  Peach is delighted to see him.  I run downstairs and grab my dinner. 

6:10 pm: I've gulped dinner and am out the door -- to get my mail, to go to the law library, to go to the store.  Will probably sneak in a trip to Starbucks for a triple non-fat mocha, no whipped cream. 

7:30 pm: Home. Coffee hasn't even touched the exhaustion, but there is work to do.  Matthew is taking care of Peach and playing a computer game.

8:30 pm: Matthew is winding down, and care of the Peach is returned to me.  By this point, she is as tired as I am, but (unlike me) has no desire to sleep.  I try to put her to bed, but it doesn't take.  I try not to think about my to-do list and the one or two checked items on it (out of, say, ten?).  We play. 

9:00 pm: Peach finally decides to go to sleep.  I get back to work, but am so tired I can barely concentrate.  I realize I have used the last of the clean bottles, and run downstairs to start the dishwasher. 

10:30 pm: Peach usually wakes up when I am transferring her into her (or my, depending on how things are going) bed. I change her, feed her, and then put her back to sleep.

10:50 pm: I try to work, but by this time I'm falling asleep while typing.  I will probably fight going to sleep myself until midnight.

12:00 am: Having given up the thought of getting anything else done, I go to bed. 

***
But on the weekends?  Matthew is primary.  I still do quite a bit with Peach, but I can leave the house guilt-free.  Watch TV guilt-free. And even work guilt free.   (But not yesterday - yesterday had all three of us staying in our PJs all day.) 

I won!!!!

Well -- the half of the case that gets me paid, anyway!  But who cares which PR is dispensing funds to my client, so long as he gets his money?

Week(s) in Review

The last couple of weeks have been a mad juggling act.  The time I spend with the Peach is precious and wonderful, but exhausting (just like working a desk job, I always wonder why it's so physically draining).

She's straining the feet in her 3 month sleepers, but the 6 month sleepers are still a bit too long.  Her head is massive -- none of the baby hats in the 3-9 month range fit her.  I managed to find a cute pseudo-trapper hat at New Seasons that should fit. Fortunately, we don't have to worry so much about the cold, just the wet.

In other news...

• High blood pressure and a headache do NOT a good jog make.
  • New blood pressure med is working splendidly, but the water retention associated with it?  Not so good. 
• I was given a thrombophilia panel by my perinatalogist a few weeks back.  Two of the results (of the 9 tests) came back showing I have two genetic mutations (one is heterozygous, meaning one bad copy and one good copy, and the other is homozygous, meaning two bad copies). A lot of people have one or the other, but usually not both, and most people with the second mutation usually only have one bad copy of the gene.  Bonus for me, right?!  Well, I guess it IS nice to know -- I get to go to a hematologist now for more tests and they'll be able to monitor me to make sure I don't throw a clot -- but doesn't explain the blood pressure problem.
  
  • So long, cheap life insurance...
• The Peach and I spent seven hours (!!) together yesterday (her 4 month birthday) going to (my) appointments and running errands.  She was such a trooper!
  
• A sex abuse case I drafted the trial memo and jury instructions for returned the highest damages EVER in the county I live in for a PI plaintiff.
• Lugging the Peach around (13 pounds) in her carseat (7 pounds) has strained and inflamed my right rotator cuff.  Normal people can take ibuprofen to reduce inflammation and help the pain....but I can't take anti-inflammatories. I took an Ultram (really for my migraines) but it still hurts.
  
  • Naturally this happens when I am starting to play the cello again. 
  • Also hurting: right knee, neck. 
  • Itching: spider bite on my stomach (!) -- it's getting cool and the spiders are sneaking inside.  And biting me.
• I have a client who is insisting on going to hearing on a guardianship matter even though I've advised her  against it, for various reasons.  Worse: the hearing is set for late next week and she isn't communicating with me now -- making it awfully hard to prepare.  Sigh. 
• The Peach has started reaching and grabbing relatively small objects in front of her.  It's been so fun watching her go from randomly batting her arms to grabbing things she accidentally touched to this movement with intent. 
• The Peach also likes to sit up.  When she's reclined (in a car seat, or Papasan, or swing) she tries to sit up, and she loves to be pulled into a sitting position. 
• I've decided that I don't want to travel to Nevada in December with a 6 month old.  I know it's doable, but I don't want to do it anywhere near the holidays.  Maybe in March.
• I realized this week that on December 30, Matthew and I will have been married 15 years.
• The Peach did her first massive projectile vomit yesterday afternoon -- about five ounces of formula all over her, me, the couch, and the floor.  Ugh. 

In August a law student's fancy turns to E&Es

Because it's that time again (and because I'm up late aspirating Eden's sinuses) I bring back Shelley's Helpful Tips for the First Semester of Law School.  To these I'd like to add five more aimed at school/life balance:

1.  Have fun.  I know what you're thinking -- I could have fun in that meat grinder?  Well, yes.  You're stuck there for three years.  It's grueling. It will expand to fill every waking (and many sleeping) moments of your life if you let it.  It will turn you into a law bore at parties. 

So look for the absurd.  Smell the roses (or daphne or lilac or whatever) when they bloom.  Make friends.  Take at least one class every semester that you don't need but which sounds interesting. 

And if you don't want to do law review, then don't.*  Wear hats. Host lunchtime potlucks with your friends and don't talk about the law while you're eating. Poach faculty parking spots after dark. Take a ferret to class.  Take a dog to class. (And laugh when he poops in the faculty parking lot.)   And yes, I did (or didn't) do all of these things.

2.  Learn your limits. To studying, to staying up late, to dealing with BS, to how much coffee you can drink without visibly shaking.  Then mind those limits.

3.  Learn to ask for help. From your professors when you don't understand something, from your law school friends when you need a favor, from family and outside friends when you're in crunch time around finals. 

4.  Don't forget your partner. I brought Matthew to classes one day every semester and I absolutely recommend this to everyone who goes to school while in a long term relationships.  Matthew got to know my classmates and professors and what it was I did with my days.  He sympathized and could talk to me on a meaningful level about my day-to-day experiences when I got home.

5.  Don't take it so seriously.  At the end of the day, it's just school.  No one's life rides on whether you understand the Erie Doctrine or if your citations are perfect.  You're the only one who cares if you goofed up in class -- no one else even noticed.  In fact, everyone else thinks THEY goofed up when it was their turn. Give it a rest.

*I can't imagine anything more deadly dull than cite-checking someone else's material.  Ugh. 

File under "sad but true"

This afternoon, when Eden was fussing because she was tired and needed to burp but couldn't, I reached for the closest reading material available -- something guaranteed to put anyone to sleep. 

Yes, law.  Specifically, portions of Chapter 107 of the Oregon Revised Statues. 

And by God, it worked.  Thank you, Salem.   

My new art form

That would be trial prep with a baby in one arm.  (And a baby that feels like she's got to be 8 pounds by now -- trust me, 5 pounds was a lot easier to hold!)  But hey, no problem.  Well, some problems -- mostly sore muscles and wondering when I'll get time to shower between now and 3 PM. And I've got a list of handwritten questions for witnesses instead of neatly typed ones, and I've only reviewed cases once instead of three times, but y'know, it's doable. 

In way and manner following

One of my favorite things to do as a lawyer is draft wills.  I get to ask super-nosy questions and people cheerfully tell me the answers (when they probably ought to slap me).  So it was fun to discover this evening morning a will drafted by my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, William Faris (1734-1818).  (Since Matthew started our family tree on geni.com, I have been busily filling in my family tree, so that someday I can present Eden with it. Geni is a LOT of fun -- probably best described as genealogy meets MySpace.)

William Faris's will goes like this:

In the name of God Amen I William Faris of the County of Ohio and State of Virginia being weak in body but sound in Mind and Memory, call to Mind my Mortality, and that it is appointed for all men once to die and come to Judgment - do make and ordain this my last will and testament in way and manner following, and first I bequeath my Soul to Almighty God that gave it me trusting that (through the merits and intercession of Jesus Christ) I shall receive the same again and my body to the earth from whence it was taken to be buried with Christian decent burial and so to such worldly substance as it hath pleased God to bestow upon me,

My will is that all my Just debts and funeral charges be fully paid, out of my moveable estate, and as to my Real estate my will is that my land be sold to the best advantage as soon as may be convenient, or as it can be sold at its value, and for that purpose I allow the space of three years if it cannot be done sooner or longer time if it cannot be sold in Said time to advantage and the rent after my Executors hereafter named is satisfied for their trouble to be equally divided among my four children hereafter to be named, and when my land is sold my will is that the price of it together with my Moveable estate that will not be hereafter mentioned, be equally divided between my children John, Adam, Mary and William, with this exception that John and Adam shall have one hundred dollars each of them more than my other two children and to be paid before any distribution of my estate be made and the remainder to be divided as above stated.

Lastly my will is that my sons John and Adam Faris be Joint Executors of this my last will and testament, renouncing and making void all former wills and testaments confirming this and this only to be my last will and testament,

In witness whereof I hereunto Subscribe my name and affix my seal this 4th day of October eighteen hundred and fourteen


William Faris Seal
Signed sealed and Acknowledged in the presence of
William Faris
David Faris
Samuel D. Faris

I do certify that the above will is a true Copy from the original which was proven in Court at September Term 1818 by the oaths of David Faris and Samuel D. Faris subscribing witnesses thereto & ordered to be recorded. Teste Wm Chapline Jr C.O.C

Sitting in a room all day is tiring (and bonus belly picture)

Yesterday I spent the bulk of the day (the part where the temperature went from 60 to 90 degrees) inside a big building in a smallish, too-warm room, participating in a mediation for a civil (not family law) case. 

Most of the time in mediation is spent sitting in the room waiting for the mediator to come back and let you know what the other side has said.  What surprised me was how tiring mediation is.  I suppose it's the emotional part of things, the uncertainty and the waiting, but I wasn't expecting to be tuckered out by the end. 

I probably didn't help myself by going back to my office and doing other work afterward, but when I got home -- oh, lordie.  My feet were massive sausage-things. They're still not back to "normal" (for pregnancy) size.  I ended up so knackered that I collapsed on the couch, weakly asked Matthew for some water, and then fell asleep for over an hour.  (Whereupon I got up and watered the garden, which probably didn't do much for the massive feet or exhaustion, either.) 

So.  Today is "take it easy but still work" day, which means when I go to the law library and research, I'll keep my feet up on a chair nearby, and when I'm working at home, ditto keeping the feet up.  And if I want a nap, I'll let myself take a nap. 

Three words that should never appear in legal documents

All IMHO, of course.

• Pray.  As in, "plaintiff prays for a judgment..."   People pray in church, the mosque, the temple, or the synagogue.   They don't pray in legal documents.  Ask, yes. Respectfully request, yes.  Pray, no. 
• Come.  As in, "plaintiff comes now and prays for a judgment...." No.  Just.....no. 
• Verily.  This one boggles the mind.  Who uses "verily" outside a Thor comic book?  Every time I see this I picture some muscular blond dude with a hammer and a hat with wings on it, reading the document in a booming baritone. It makes me giggle.

I have to run, but feel free to add your own favorites.  God only knows how this post will turn up in Google searches.

God save me from bad legal writing

I would occasionally talk about this on the old blog, now long dead, but back in the day (summer between 2L and 3L) I interned with a judge in Reno.  Nepotism at its finest (I'm sure you haven't failed to notice where my family lives), yes. 

Anyway, this judge heard both civil and criminal matters, and the way things worked, her law clerk and interns would draft the orders for just about everything civil.  Even better, the orders had to be legally reasoned and cite case law -- it was great practice for, well, practice.  Often the way it would work was that we'd review the file, talk to the judge about it, then draft an order that she'd either edit and give back or she'd sign.  See what I mean?  Great training for a future civil-litigation contract attorney (and you thought all I did was dom/rel? Shame on you!). 

This is where I learned where you really, really didn't want a bad attorney on the other side of your case.  It's hard to explain this to clients, but a bad attorney on the other side means everyone -- you, the court -- must work ten times harder.  I'd been so happy that I hadn't worked on a case with someone THAT BAD in Oregon. 

Until today, that is.  Today, I'm working on a civil case (a contract project) responding to "motions for summary judgment/for judgment on the pleadings."  The authority would be ORCPs 21 A and 47 -- no more specifics than that, no legal standards set forth, no point by point analysis.  It is a freaking mess.  Both motions are a mixture of ORCP 21 and ORCP 47, rather than split out (albeit without the legal standards, right?) and they're just all over the place.  For those of you who know your ORCP 47, do you think it's a good idea to create material issues of fact in your motion when (I assume, because I can't tell) that you're arguing there aren't any?  (ORCP 47 is our summary judgment rule.)  Or, for that matter, do you think it's a great idea under ORCP 21 to argue "failure to state a claim" when the applicable standard in Oregon is "failure to state ultimate facts sufficient to constitute a claim?" 

It's taken me an inordinate amount of time just to figure out how to organize a response to this.  The legal standards I know -- I've written responses to these sorts of motions before -- but jeez.  And trying to keep the sarcasm out is Herculean.  (Some people edit to fix typos.  In nearly every project, I have to edit out  snarkiness before something is fit to be filed.) 

The best thing I can say for these motions is that there are very few typos.  However, I do think this thing was typed on a TYPEWRITER. Unbelievable. 

So, that's what I'm doing right now.  Hopefully your evenings are much, much more pleasant!

The other blog

I've been working on The Oregon Divorce Blog, writing copy, adding links, formatting, and so on.  I'm getting paid for this, so make the boss man happy and visit it early and often! Comment on it! Link to it, people! 

Three posts in one!

Wednesdays are the days Court of Appeals opinions are released (the Oregon Supreme Court opinions come out Thursdays, but the court warns everyone an opinion will be coming out on Wednesday, ever since some litigant almost drove off the road when he heard on the radio that he'd won his case). 

Every Wednesday morning for the last four weeks, I've been anxious because I have a case pending there.  (The first two weeks were silly, I grant you.  But AWOPs come out really fast.  I would really like my case to be AWOPed so that it's settled before I have the baby -- if the other side doesn't petition for review, anyway.) 

**

In other news, my war with Saturn/my extended warranty people ended before the first shots were fired.  I have a 2004 VUE that I took in last year for a/c service (ran out of freon).  This was back before the first warranty expired, and while they couldn't find the leak, they did the service and told me that if I brought it back after its expiration, that service would still be covered. I wasn't all that worried, because I bought an extended warranty on the vehicle, anyway.  For three additional years of coverage and discounts on services (all my oil changes, for example, are free, and other services are reduced significantly), I paid about $1700.  (I know this because I dug up all those records on Monday.)

Well...we took it in last week and got a call saying it would be a 9 hour service, so bring it back in Sunday night and they'd work on it Monday.  Monday comes around, and we get a call saying that the warranty company wants to send an inspector to look at the condensor or evaporator or something (it hardly mattered to me) before they'd OK service.  They would only chip in $25/day for a rental car in the meantime. 

I was SO fired up Monday.  Livid.  Where I'd ordinarily say, "What a pain in the ass" and wait to see what happened, I fumed.  Someone was going to pay for the service.  I dug up the policies and read them - no a/c related exclusions.   I was not precisely polite to the guy at Saturn of Beaverton (who is probably the nicest service guy at Saturn of Beaverton that we've deal with since we moved here in 1999 -- they have generally been nothing but trouble).  Too late to do anything about that now, and Matthew sheparded me out of there to get the rental. 

[By the way, $25/day gets you a Toyota Corolla through the Beaverton Toyota rental place.  I was annoyed at this, but I find it's a surprisingly zippy little car with a nice turn radius and good control.  It's loud on the freeway and not exactly luxurious, but still, not bad.]   

All that adrenaline -- and for nothing.  Tuesday morning I called, apologized to the nice guy at Saturn for my hormones and bad mood the day before, and found out the warranty people were going to pay for the service, after all.  We'd be on the hook for our $100 deductible, a bit of freon (some discrepancy I'm not sure about) and some foam, but our total cost was around $160, while the insurer's was well over $1000.   I haven't picked up the VUE yet, so there may yet be another Saturn post later on today, but I'll keep my fingers crossed. 

Well, I've typed all this and I still have 15 minutes before I can hope to see any COA decisions online.

**

I'm still working part time for Super Cool Attorney (SCA), but in the last week or so, I've been developing a new website look and a blog for him.  It's been a nice change of pace, to trot out the graphics and the HTML programs and to work with them again. 

Many, many years ago (try almost 10), I went from being a newly minted grad with a BA in history/minor in chemistry to doing website work, because what the hell else do you do with a BA in history?  I worked for a telecommunications company that has been purchased so many times subsequently I'm not sure who owns them now, and I had a boss who was nothing but a glorified salesman.  An ad salesman, at that.  He didn't understand that you actually have to have content on the site that people want to go to before you could sell ads on the site, and he didn't want to give me people to generate content, or give me time to do it on my own.  The closest he came to providing assistance was a university journalism student intern for ten hours a week.  No, he didn't pay her.  Are you shocked? 

At some point, this boss determined the office needed a tech support person on site, as opposed to the company-wide tech support people who were in a different state.  That's how I ended up administering a Windows NT server and a bastardized Windows 95/Mac network (the computers were mercifully upgraded while I was there to all Windows machines -- not that I like Windows machines, but they did make my life easier).   Did I mention the OS/2 network running in the back office? It was a mess.

Oh...and I still had to do the website.

He ranks as one of my worst employers ever, though not as bad as the boss I had at the Deathstar.  This boss did have the worst tupee I'd ever seen in my life, and in the year I worked there, he also had an eyelid tuck.  He bought a huge new house and -- in an office where most of the AAs and clerk-types weren't making more than $10/hour -- showed everyone the flier from the house and talked incessantly about it.  To say the AAs hated him would be vastly understating things.   He also was so technologically clueless that he'd call me into his office to show him how to log into his investment account websites, and, occasionally, to show him how to copy and paste text. 

He made me go to a sales seminar because I might have to accompany ad sales people on call.  I will never, ever forgive him for this.  This would be the same sales seminar -- held at the Peppermill in Reno -- where a very drunk Japanese tourist mistook me for a prostitute (I was in my LL Bean phase and looked revoltingly wholesome, even!) during a break.   Again - no forgiveness, and I did everything I possibly could to avoid going on sales calls after that.   It served him right. 

Needless to say, not my finest employment situation, but it was a decent resume padder for me.  But I acquired the following skills/knowledge:

• how to supervise an assistant (an AA, not the intern)
• how to avoid junk meetings
• how to take apart computers and fix them -- there were a lot of calls to Matthew in the beginning, before I gained in confidence.   
• how to navigate office politics
• how to get what you want out of people whom you hold in utter contempt without letting them know you hold them in utter contempt
• exercising patience to get what you want
• the power of bureaucratic tactics ("I'd love to help you with your computer.  But I can't get over there RIGHT NOW.  So reboot first, then if that doesn't fix your problem, then please fill out this form letting me know what the problem is.  I'll be with you as soon as I can.")
• it's pointless to dress in a suit if you spend any part of your day crawling under desks chasing cables
• how to smile even when you know people are lying to you

When that company was bought by the Deathstar (announced when I was still there, but implemented after we moved up here), he was summarily dismissed, while I went on to a better paying but more aggravating job with the Deathstar.  For a few years, I viciously hoped he'd lost the big new house and the trophy wife along with the job, but now I just feel sorry for him.  What a pathetic man - the eyelid tuck, the toupee, the showing off of investment accounts that now I realize are piddly, retirement-wise.  Plus, he probably lost all that retirement money when Deathstar stock tanked.

**
No AWOP today.  Ah, well.