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Crazy Days - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
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Crazy Days
Not just in our nation's capital and from the tentacles emanating from it. The past two days have been blurs for me, and even this coming Sunday promises to be another one.

Yesterday, I was downtown all day speaking at a seminar. Good thing: I have already hit my continuing ed quota for 2016-17 with ten months left in the reporting period, and I've gotten/will get vouchers for two more free all-day seminars that I can use to get a head start on 2018-19.  Still, it's an exhausting experience; I appreciate far more how tiring Eleanor's workdays are, on her feet for most of 6-8 hours at a time; I was only speaking for three hours yesterday and my legs are hurting more than after any recent workout.

Last night, we had tickets to see Eric Holder, Obama's long-time attorney general, speaking at UB.  Eleanor had had an equally long/stressful day herself, so I went on my own, finding a taker for her ticket in the cheap seats and staying for most of it myself:



His speech, as such, was short compared to the Kelly astronauts and John Cleese who we'd seen earlier in the series, but he answered many questions from audience, pre-submissions and even texts. Mine wasn't read but was answered:

"Do you believe your successor has an ethical obligation to recuse himself from any decisions concerning the Russian interference with the 2016 election?"

Answer: hellz to the yeah.

His short speech consisted largely of this one quote: you likely know the first sentence, but the whole of it, from Thomas Paine in turbulent 1776 America, is especially timely:

THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.

----

Then, even longer today.

We were both up stupid early, and I was on the road soon after 7 to be in Rochester for a 9 a.m. bankruptcy hearing. The examinee was not my client (although he was there, as one of the guy's creditors), and the trustee is a law school classmate of mine who I've gotten along well with for most of my days.  It was short but very early in the day, and we got out the needed information that was damaging to the bad guy but doesn't really help my guy all that much.

Then, down the street and up an elevator to the local office of largest law firm upstate, for a mediation. Soon after that client got there, the trustee from the 9:00 hearing, who works there, came back to his office. My client was practically drooling over him, Facebooking during breaks to see if he was married.  I threatened to pour all their little eight ounce Poland Spring water bottles into a pitcher and throw it on her to cool her down.  Ultimately, we settled (and that's all I can say about that), but there was one other weird aspect. We were put in the Thurston Howell III (not his real name) Room on the 20th floor of Your Bank Name Here Plaza.  Behind me, but facing my client the whole time, was a portrait of TH III  on the wall that was freaking her out:



She wondered who he was. I googled him. He died suddenly a  few years ago at the age of 66.  She also said she thought he looked like me: okayyy,  I think I even have that tie; not one like it, probably the exact one that he left in a thrift shop or something.  So yeah: my 57-law school classmate gives her the hots, but at the same age I remind her of a dead guy.  Thanks, Obama!

----

One final appointment followed that, and I made it home by 6, with an early collapse for both of us. I haven't been to a gym in three days, so I have an unusual Saturday class scheduled for tomorrow. But Sunday will be especially busy: Dog Park at 8, my usual Sunday workout at 10, my old church at 11 (mainly to publicize two things- Jen Chapin's concert in March and an interfaith prayer service that afternoon that Eleanor's Buddhist group is participating in), the live-to-cinema performance of Allegiance at 1, and then the aforementioned prayer service at 3.

Fortunately, Monday is a holiday for me. I'll still be going into the office, but there will be no alarm clock involved.
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