The Big Firm Life

Last night some good friends of ours invited Derek and I to join them to go see a few of the homes featured in Eugene's parade of homes. Now, many of you know my husband. Can I just say that a miny miracle occured when I asked him if we could go, (well begged...well more like told him he was going) and he actually agreed to go. That may only be because my birthday was on Wednesday, so I still have a little bit of birthday girl pull.

I love love love to look at all the fancy homes and dream of one day having a house with even one room that looks slightly as amazing as their entire home. Anyways, we go see all these great homes, and I leave having a conversation with my husband of our future dream masterbedroom with the ginormous king size bed and bathroom with the double sinks, double shower heads, and what the heck why not double walk in closets too (that may be a little extreme).

The night continues...we go get icecream with our friends (who happen to be doing the law school thing too). We start talking about future jobs, where we want to end up, and what kinds of firms they are applying to for next year. Her husband says that he really wants to work at a small firm, in a smaller town because he doesn't want to have a job where he has to work from 7:30 Am- 7:30 PM every day like the big firms make you do right out of school.

Well, that of course gets me thinking because I don't really want a husband who is gone that long every day either. And, I remember when we started law school that Derek said he didn't want to work for a big firm because he didn't want to work those long hours. Well, here we are in our third year. He is currently applying for law firms to work at next year. Are they the small firms with the reasonable hours? NO! They are all these huge firms with tons of billable hours. Whether he can actually get a job at these firms is another issue, but nonetheless he is applying.

This led to a long dicussion last night. It ended with me saying something like. So, I guess you pretty much plan to live at the law firm. Well, remember that dream masterbedroom? Forget the double sinks, double shower heads, and kind size bed. I guess all I need is a single bed and a bathroom down the hall!

But really, all this applying for jobs stuff is really freaking me out. How do you decide what city to live in for what could be the rest of our lives? How do you decide which firm to sacrfice your husband to for what could be the rest of my life? (I guess which ever one agrees to pay you). Going to school wasn't so scary because it was only 3 years and then you could go wherever you want. But, now that we are getting close to finishing and we can go wherever we want...how do we figure out where we want to go? Okay, enough complaining.

It's the Hard-Knock Life

So, I've already blogged before about my amazing grace or lack thereof. P.S. I want everyone to note the first picture on my blog (I need many verbal pats on the back for this to continue). Anyways, we'll get to how the picture fits in here in a minute. This morning at 6:30 AM I get up earlier than needed to go running with my new found friend and next door neighbor. I am still in the stages of convincing her that she really does want to be friends with the complete dork that I am. Anyways, towards the end of our run, when I am finally starting to think this is a beautiful morning, it's not hot, and I actually am glad that I am out of bed right now (or maybe I was really just glad because we were almost done with our run), I trip on absolutely nothing, twist my right ankle, and land with my left knee on the cement side walk. So, that ended the run immediately. (Good trick for any of you runners that want to start walking a little early). Not such a good trick when you are trying to make a new friend. Oh well, who needs friends anyways?

Alright continuing on with the day, I managed to shower, ice my poor ankle, and get out the door just a little late. I get in the car when I realize, good job Chelsea you totally sprained the ankle that has to push the gas peddle. No biggie, we only have a 45 minute drive out to Oakridge. I get to Oakridge, and hobble into the clinic, limping with both legs due to my twisted ankle on the right and swelling knee on the left. I hobble in and out of patient rooms trying to somehow convince them that they do indeed want my hobbling self to give them the dire medical attention they need.

At lunch, I had left over enchilladas. Very yummy and very exciting until I spilled enchillada sauce (which doesn't come out too well) all over my shirt. I did try to get it out, but then I only had a very wet AND very stained shirt. Hence the picture of the boy on my blog. Too bad he's like 8, and I am almost 24! So, now I am hobbling, soaking wet (right over my breast mind you), covered in enchillada sauce, and still trying to convince patients that I am capable of fixing all their health issues when I obviously can't even fix my own. However, I must be a pretty good actress because I convinced one poor guy to let me cut this huge, groudy lesion off his leg with a scalpel. And then, once I had made a huge hole in his leg, he let me take suture needles and sew him up. I don't think I would let anyone who was hobbling like I was and wearing a soaking wet enchillada stained shirt come anywhere near me with a scalpel! And I guess, to help anyone who still thinks I am not a complete and total klutz, that it would be worth mentioning that during the whole process of cutting someone open and you are supposed to keeping everything real sterile, I dropped like 3 intruments on the floor. We got new ones of course, but somehow this guys is still letting me take a needle to his leg. A very brave chap indeed!

Anyways, just thought I'd let you all have a little view into the stuggles of my hard-knock life.