My holiday resolution...

I am always amazed by the holiday season...everything looks so festive, and Christmas music is everywhere you go, it seems that one would be perpetually in a good mood, as if every mall you enter in to is a passport straight to Santa's workshop.

About eight years ago, I had shoulder surgery that left me in a sling over the Christmas holidays. And, as my unfortunate luck would have it, I repeated it this holiday season. However, it was the lack of my ability to use my right arm that has since prompted my resolution for the holiday season. It started the first winter I had my arm in a sling. I was traveling to New York to visit, and I had carried on my suitcase. And, as I struggled to place my luggage in the overhead compartment, I was pushed around by men in suits and other travelers, anxious to get to their seats. No one was offering to help me, until an elderly woman asked if she could. This woman was probably over eighty, but she was the only one who offered to help me. And that has stayed with me.

I am always amazed at the selfishness of other people during this time of year. Perhaps I notice it more, because this should be the season for giving and remembering to love thy neighbor. But, take away one arm, and you suddenly become increasingly aware of people's true nature. I think it's because you actually rely on others to help you out - hold open the door for you, for example.

It's my hope that people forget to help one another because they're so involved and concerned for their own families that they fail to notice those who really need help. I choose to look at it that way because it's just too depressing to see it the other way.

My holiday resolution, therefore, is to take notice of others around me. I want to give more of myself to other people and help where I know help is needed. Cousin Frankie told me that you always know the right thing to do. You always do. The problem becomes whether or not you choose to do the right thing. And I want to make a conscious effort to do that. I want to right the past wrongs in my life and give and receive forgiveness where it's been missing. I want to step into another person's shoes and appreciate life from their point of view.

Helen Keller said, "Be kind; for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle." And I'd like to remember that and help others along the way.

In the words of Frank Sinatra...

I was a first year law student when I met Jeff. I remember the very first time I ever talked to him and the very first minute he ever came across my radar. We were sitting in The Local, having drinks after our Civil Procedure mid-term. I remember that he intrigued me, but at the time, I was in another relationship and I don't know that I was in that state of mind, so to speak. But I do remember the day that I met him.

Over the course of the next several months, we developed a deep friendship and he became the person I wanted to talk to about every mundane thing in my life. And, I liked him so much. He was so easy to talk to, he had strong opinions, interesting ideas and thoughts...he was so smart and creative. Oh, and not to mention that I thought he was pretty cute too. And, just to keep it straight, I still think all these things about him.

In any case, one night, he called and asked to take me to a movie. I'd been sick, and he wanted to do something nice and keep me company on a Saturday night. In any case, by the end of the night, I knew I was in trouble because I'd absolutely fallen for him. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual. We started dating shortly thereafter. My mother will say that she knew all along that we'd get married. She bases this on the fact that, after Jeff and I started dating, I talked about him differently than I had about all my past boyfriends. But, my guess is that she and my father actually liked Jeff. They hadn't been in favor of my prior boyfriends.

While the road of our relationship hasn't always been smooth sailing, the happiest times of my life have been spent with him. The waves in our relationship have let us build a strong foundation and he has taught me the value of honesty, integrity and spontaneity.

In short, I am overjoyed that I get to spend the rest of my life with this amazing person. I am so excited to be a testament to his life.

In all my past relationships, I always thought that there was something better out there. Forever is such a hard notion for humans to comprehend and I couldn't ever imagine spending a lifetime with anyone. Perhaps that's why those relationships never lasted. In Jeff, I believe I have found someone who compliments my weaknesses with his strengths and I have never felt so loved, protected and cared for. And I know there's nothing better out there.

Words to live by...

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.

You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time.

You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.

You'll fight with your best friend.

You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.

You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every minute you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

Top Ten Things I Hate Hearing

As a young, female attorney, you would be surprised at the amount of sexist - and ageist - comments that I receive...however, I have compiled a Top Ten of the worst comments that have been made to me in the past year of practice:

10. "Ah; the court reporter is here."

Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with being a court reporter. There isn't and I'd be lost without mine - but it drives me crazy that everyone assumes I'm the court reporter. As if I couldn't be an attorney. And, as a side note, this assumption has been made numerous times by many attorneys.

9. "You don't look old enough to be an attorney."

While I should assume that this is meant to be a compliment, I actually take offense to it because, guess what? I actually am old enough to be an attorney. Perhaps I was blessed with good genes. This actually goes hand in hand with the comment referenced above.

8. "My client would like to know, after we're done with the proceeding, if you'd like to get a drink with him."

This wasn't the first time I'd gotten asked out either. But having the lawyer ask me out for his client was truly a new low. No settlement offer. No negotiations. But an offer for a date.

7. "Keep it tight."

I actually heard this leaving a happy hour and I never understood why men say this. You will never hear a woman tell another to "keep it tight," mostly because of its derogatory connotations. I'm sure that men say this because they're referring to their "game" or whatever, but women can actually take offense to this - as they should "keep it tight" for the men, anatomically speaking of course. At least that's how it was explained to me. I looked this term up on Google and Wikipedia and both were indeterminate, only really referencing an Amos Lee song. I also surveyed my girlfriends on the cryptic meaning of this phrase to determine whether offense should be taken and I had responses ranging from slang for "good-bye" to "keep it on the down low" to the definition which I assumed. But still, a simple, "Take care" would have sufficed.

6. "You remind me of a runner-up in a Miss America pageant."

Again, true story. This was said by a judge in reference to the fact that I was smiling during a negotiation. It was actually a comment made to me by a female judge. The gist of her commentary to me was that I should have been more deferential to my partner, a male, as of course, the winner of the Miss America pageant. Perhaps he should have been offended too.

5. "You should know, the women always get through easier than the men do."

This was said to me when I was given a file to settle on behalf of an older, male partner who was unable to get a hold of opposing counsel. I made contact with opposing counsel on my first try, apparently, because I'm a woman. Again, proof positive that the legal system has little to do with justice.

4. "You know, you're really becoming a cynical bitch."

I might have just taken his client to the cleaners when opposing counsel said this to me. But, truth be told, this comment obviously upset me, even if it was made out of spite. I told my boss that this particular attorney had called me a cynical bitch. My boss responded, misty eyed, that he was very proud of me.

3. "Since when does your firm hire young, attractive women?"

This wasn't said directly to me, but was instead written in a letter to my boss. This comment was, in fact, the very thing that prompted this whole list. I had appeared in an older male attorney's office to take his client's deposition. In opposing counsel's follow-up letter to my boss, this attorney had found it necessary to comment both on my age and the way that I look. I wonder what would have happened if I had written a letter to opposing counsel telling him that it was great to have such a hottie sitting across the table from me during negotiations.

2. "You know, I can fire you."

I'm not entirely sure why this individual even chose to say this to me because he couldn't. My guess is that it was really only used and said as an intimidation tactic from a man who suffers from Short Man Syndrome and needed to beat his chest.

1. "Hey, after we're done here, would you like to get a bite to eat, little lady?"

This is actually my personal favorite and a story that I tell repeatedly. This question was posed to me while I was taking a deposition. The comment was actually made on the record, meaning if you review the transcript, you can actually read this statement and my response. But, it just goes to show you that the man that I was deposing really didn't respect my position as a lawyer. That, and the fact that I hate being called "little lady" by any one other than my dad or my grandpa.

The point of all these comments is that most people think they can get away with them. And, unfortunately, sometimes they do. But, I always wonder what would happen if the tables were turned and I was the one making these comments to another attorney. I wouldn't get away with it.

There's more than one way to make a dollar...

They are now selling toilet paper from the bathroom where Senator Larry Craig had his "altercation" with the Minneapolis Police Department on eBay. Thankfully, toilet paper is only going for $11.00. I'm not even sure how you authenticate a roll of toilet paper.

Additionally, I've also heard that the bathroom at the Minneapolis airport has become a "tourist" attraction. Why anyone would want to fly to Minneapolis to look at a men's restroom is beyond me. But hey - I can see it if you had a long layover...

It is truly a new low. I can't think of anything more repulsive than purchasing toilet paper on eBay. At some point, do you just shake your head? Regardless of your feelings or sentiments about the whole Larry Craig situation, stuff like this makes me actually feel sorry for the guy. He wants nothing more than to fade into history and continue to live his closeted life. But, hey - people need to make a buck and toilet paper is the way to do it.

eBay's motto should be that you can truly sell anything and there will always be someone who wants to buy it. Should there be a bidding war over the toilet paper, however, I know where they can get more.

Six years ago...

From the Star Tribune, published on September 13, 2001...

Late at night, when fatigue sets in and work no longer occupies his thoughts, Dean Kopperud grudgingly gives in to memories of Tuesday.

The harried 33-floor descent down the stairwell of Two World Trade Center. The explosion and ball of fire moments after reaching the street. Falling bodies. Body parts in the soot-covered street as he made his way to his apartment two blocks away. Cries of young children and mothers in the early afternoon darkness of his apartment.

Daylight and the arduous task of rebuilding Oppenheimer Funds Inc., where he is national sales director, have kept those images at bay for most of the last four days. But at the end of the day, reality hits.

"It's been like watching your own funeral from the background," said Kopperud, 48, who lives in Eden Prairie with his wife, Sue, and their two daughters. "Sue has had about 200 calls from people who want to give their support, some from people we've been removed from and haven't talked to for years.

"The number of people who have called, it's like getting a chance to understand how much people would miss you and grieve for you."

Several times each day, he has called his wife and daughters, Katie, a junior at the College of St. Benedict, and Anne, a freshman at the University of Minnesota. "Just to tell them I love them and that everything will be OK," he said.

Kopperud, who commutes from Eden Prairie to his office in New York City, said he is booked on a flight back to Minneapolis on Thursday. He plans on doing nothing more than spending time with his wife and daughters until his scheduled return to New York the following Tuesday.

Professionally, Kopperud said, he's been floored by reaction in New York City. Rival firms offered office space. He has moved into the Rye, N.Y., offices of Tremont Advisors, which Oppenheimer Funds is in the process of buying.

Kopperud said his company had 591 people working out of its World Trade Center offices. All have been accounted for. Not all have been as successful as he has been in dealing with the horrifying images of Tuesday, he said. He said he's told those struggling not to rush it, to take a trip, visit family or get counseling and to return to work when they are ready.

Kopperud said he has allowed himself time for only one reflection:

"Did I do everything I could for everyone I saw in trouble along the way [Tuesday]?" he said. "To be honest, I didn't see anyone who was hurt. Just the body parts. But I've replayed that tape, asking myself if I missed anything.

"I don't think much about the 'what ifs?' I try to stay away from that."

-- Dennis Brackin

At least it wasn't a disaster...

My poor Brit Brit.

For those of you who have known me for a long time, you know that I have maintained a devotion to this girl. I own every one of her CDs and I have every single one of her videos on tape somewhere. I also know the dances and can pull them out, if the moment arrives. I loved her music. And yes, I will be turning twenty-seven next month. Even when she started heading downhill, I still held out the faith. I still held a candle. Kevin Federline and crotch flashes couldn't deter me from holding out for a monster comeback.

I'm slowly starting to see the flame flickering and fading.

While her new song, "Gimme More," is okay for someone who hasn't produced a record in three years, I'll admit it's rusty. But I still supported her. When they announced she would open the VMAs, I was excited, hoping I would see the girl that I once loved.

While her performance wasn't terrible, it was pretty lackluster. She wasn't herself. She seemed distracted, she didn't dance like she once did, and to be honest, I think she was afraid her wig would fall off. Again - I forgave her for shaving her head. Britney was an amazing entertainer back in her day. She wasn't afraid to push the envelope, for example, collaborations (kissing) with Madonna and writhing around on the stage with a python. It's one of the reasons we loved her. Tonight, she just played it safe. She wore some sort of sparkly bra and underwear combo, knee high boots and a head microphone (which, by the way, I don't get - we KNOW she was lip synching). But her dance moves weren't up to her usual standard and she looked nervous.

I watched the entire performance through my fingers, covering my face. I was nervous for her and wanted to see a fabulous performance. At least she didn't fall on her face.

Where was the collaboration with Criss Angel? There were no mirrors, so is she now dating the dirty magician? Their premise for being seen together was to work on her VMA performance, but I didn't see anything magical about it.

I love this girl, but she's making it hard. She needs to get her head on straight. Perhaps seek some kind of professional help. She needs to reconcile with her family and take care of herself and her family.

What did K-Fed do to my girl? I miss her.

September 11, 2001

I hate this day.

Even on the other 364 days of the year, it seems that there are always "new developments" in the inquest and a continuing pledge to catch terrorists. It seems that every year, there are more people coming out with their own memories and their own stories. There are eulogies to those who lost their lives in the attacks. I don't envy these people and I don't mean to trivialize their experiences. And, I don't mean to disregard those who lost their lives on that day either. My heart aches for their families. But, part of me wishes this day would just fade into our distant memories and it'd all be over.

I have to wonder if it was like this after Pearl Harbor...but I guess concentration camps were the better answer back then. Perhaps Guantanamo Bay will be considered our own modern day camp at sometime in the future. The War on Terror is instead left to the branches of government, each charged with their own duties to rein in this faceless war and its vigilantes.

But to be honest, I'm just tired of crying about it. I'm tired of harboring these irrational fears and I wish that the answers would be found. I wish it wouldn't be in the forefront of every one's consciousness. So many people want to find a connection to that day. Telling his story - and mine - makes me that connection, I suppose. I don't mind telling his story but I wish I didn't feel the way that I do every time some new 9/11 development is reported.

I'm afraid every time a plane flies too close overhead. I'm actually terrified of even getting on a plane. Every time I walk past Ground Zero when I'm in New York I get sick to my stomach and usually throw up a short time after that. I am afraid when my family flies. I still cry every time I see photos of that day. I couldn't sit through the previews of that Nicholas Cage movie and actually had to leave the theatre. For what it's worth, I know I'm not the same person.

In the days after 9/11, I fell into a pretty deep depression. The kind where I couldn't get off the couch and I cried at irrational times throughout the day. I sought treatment and got it - and part of me thinks that if it wasn't for my roommates, I wouldn't have made it out of college. Back then, all I wanted was my daddy. Today, I am terrified of losing him, because on that day, I thought I did. My life seems to have split - into pre-September, 11 and afterwards. Even when I take depositions, when trying to help a witness recall dates, I always ask whether an incident happened before or after September 11. Because that's how I see my life, I guess.

To be honest, I don't know what happened to my dad on that day. To spare my family, I suppose, he's refrained from talking about it. But I've read some articles done about him, and I've heard excerpts of speeches he gives to groups about that day. I don't know if anyone really understands how I feel, even to this day. Prior to 9/11, I can actually recall reading about bombings in foreign countries and it was just another blurb on the news. Now, I feel tremendous empathy because I know what it feels like to have a loved one involved in a terrorist attack. Growing up in America, I don't know if I ever really thought I'd have that experience. And I don't think that many Americans really know how I feel, even today.

I remember the night before September 11. I was laying on the floor of my dorm room, talking with my roommate. I had put a ring on my finger that my father had given me years before. For no reason really, other than I missed him. He was working in New York and I was at college, meaning it wasn't often that we got to see each other. I remember the professors who consoled me after I watched the second plane run into the Towers. I remember Mindy picking me up and I remember my roommates rushing to the door when I walked into the apartment. I remember when he called to tell me he was okay. I remember hearing his voice, trying to reassure me. I remember the first time I saw him after September 11. I remember clerks in stores recognizing me from my picture in the paper. I remember going to Mass to pray for him. I remember the calls from just about everyone I knew, asking if there was anything they could do for my family.

I also remember the six month anniversary. I was in Spain, sitting in my professor's apartment, watching whatever coverage was provided across the ocean. There were other things about Spain that made it an especially difficult time, such as people screaming "Osama bin Laden" in my face and a cruel joke someone played on me, telling me a bomb had gone off in the New York subway system.

And now, it's been six years. Zacarias Moussaoui has become the poster child of terrorist conviction - the feather in the government's cap. Osama bin Laden still lives, perhaps. And, are we any closer to winning - much less learning how to fight - a war with no face? Outcries of prisoner mistreatment for those in Guantanamo Bay still echo. And, the liberal in me agrees - after all, this is America - but my darker side says that those men tried to kill my father. And I don't want justice. I want them to feel like I do, to understand what their acts did to my family. What they did to me. And, maybe they do.

And, don't get me wrong - I am so thankful that my father lived. I truly believe that God has something special planned for my father. It has made my family the most precious part of my life. But I don't understand why I mourn when he lived. And, I still struggle with finding the answer to that question.

Let's hope he stays...

The big story this morning should be Johan Santana and his gem of a game yesterday against the Texas Rangers. As a brief re-cap, Jo-Jo struck out 17 batters in eight innings, breaking the Minnesota Twins' clubhouse record, which was a four way tie at 15, a number last reached by Bert Blyleven in 1986. Yesterday, Bert commented that he now knew how Hank Aaron felt.

However, Johan has been less than supportive of the Twins organization in recent weeks, having loudly voiced his disapproval of the trade of Luis Castillo, the Twins' starting second baseman. It is obvious that, in the coming years, this organization cannot afford to keep Johan forever, and soon enough he'll be looking eastward towards the Bronx Bombers. And no doubt, they'll welcome him with open arms and a blank check.

But, for the time being, I'll be glad to watch him shut down any batter that comes across his plate.

Just a thought...

Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt should adopt Britney Spears' and K-Feds little children. They'd probably stand a fighting chance then. I can't wait to see what kind of adults they grow up to be. I will bet that, in twenty years, one of them will be selling his autobiography to buy some kind of illegal substance.

The News of the Weak

I gotta ask...

At what point does it end?

This week has been one to go down in the books as fairly teeming with moral turpitude. From Britney Spears to Lindsay Lohan; Paris Hilton to Nicole Richie; Michael Vick to Barry Bonds; Tim Donaghy to a tainted Tour de France - it seems that the backbones of American culture are heading down the drain.

Stars we once adored and games we once loved will never be the same again.

While I understand that we are all, in fact human, this drive of each celebrity and super athlete to be the best, has taken over the reasons we loved their respective professions.

Who will ever trust the outcome of a basketball game again? Is the Tour de France winner just another blood doper? Will anyone recognize Barry Bonds as the legitimate home run record holder? And, while Michael Vick's conduct is abhorrent, he may only be the tipping point in the multitude of the NFL's scandals (hint: The Vikings Love Boat).

And, this is to say nothing of Hollywood. While commentators blame "Young Hollywood," it goes well beyond that. There have been numerous stars, both young and old, arrested for drunk driving this past year, including those lesser known and photographed. And this is not a recent phenomenon.

Does anyone really like the taste of gun metal?

Do stars like Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and Nicole Richie simply ask for it? Is it a need for attention or the only way they know how to cry for help? Alcoholism isn't new to the scene and I bet that most people reading this can name more than a few individuals who have been collared for a drinking and driving charge. And, in the defense of young Hollywood, if someone had told me I had a drinking problem when I was twenty-one years old, I would have laughed in their face.

When it comes down to it, I really believe that - as the old adage says - money is the root of all evil. These young stars and athletes are making more money than most of us will ever see in a lifetime. I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd been a millionaire at the tender age of eighteen. Even back then, I remember thinking how worldly I was, and I hadn't ever set foot out of the Midwest for more than a few weeks. And I was still getting an allowance and a meager paycheck from Sam Goody. To know that you will always have the freedom to do what you want - and the means to do so - is not something that you or I will ever really understand.

And, who is going to stop these celebrities? Their parents have invested everything into ensuring their child's success. Either that, or they're too invested in their own careers (Read: Kathy and Rick Hilton, Lionel Richie). Even an athlete's parents will take anything they can get - remember Reggie Bush? Their children become their career, their means for survival and in turn, they become the perfect enabler. Having an a child complete rehab before she's even of legal age to drink is not the result of external forces. It begins and ends at home.

I will be the first to admit that I was a bit of a wild child when I was younger. I admit to drinking and smoking too much, a bit of promiscuity and dabbling in some illegal activities - and we'll just leave it at that. But, my parents were strict and punishments were always enforced. I had a curfew and my parents knew all of my friends and their parents as well. And, while I can't compare my life to Paris's or Britney's, I can tell you that I always had my mother's voice in the back of my head. Which is probably why I only lead a minor rebellion.

And, as for the athletes, we worship these people for their feats of "super-human-ness." Because they can do things that we, as average human beings, cannot. I could not hit a home run if someone forced me to and I know I couldn't ride a bike through the French Alps. But, maybe if I took some grown hormones or did a little blood doping, I'd be able to. Hey - I'm in pretty good shape! But taking steroids is exactly like rigging a basketball game. It takes away the competition and sport. It becomes nothing more than artificial. And, more importantly, it is disrespectful to those who set the record in the first place - I wonder what Hank Aaron thinks.

What makes this situation even more disheartening is that we, as "commoners" are engineered to look to these individuals as role models. Just today, there was an article in the paper about finding an abandoned kinkajou, the famous pet that Paris Hilton once owned. It just goes to show you how impressionable the public really is - Paris has it, therefore I must as well. Our news is saturated with the daily activities of these athletes and celebrities and their erratic behavior becomes acceptable. We have to realize that a Lindsay Lohan arrest and a Nicole Richie conviction isn't news - and it trivializes the real problems that people face. Their misdeeds shouldn't make the front page news. But, it's a vicious cycle. We read about celebrities and athletes because of the sensationalism their behavior causes and their popularity keeps them in the news. If we stop feeding the monster, perhaps it'll quiet down.

But, athletes and celebrites have their quest for immortality in common. Every generation wants to be greater than the last. But, on their journey towards fame and fortune, these individuals fall short of what made their predecessors great. And, while past generations weren't necessarily without their own scandals and addictions, their greatness and illustriousness came from their humanity. Not from human growth hormone or multiple DWI convictions and jail time. And, certainly not from rigging a basketball game or dog fighting.

My friends, Heather and Shan...

Tonight marks the fifth year that I have participated in Relay for Life. I never really understood the principles behind any of these cancer fundraising efforts...it doesn't make sense to try and raise a bunch of money only to get the right to walk around a track! But hey - I'm raising $2200.00 to walk sixty miles to fight breast cancer at the end of August, and I can't remember undertaking a cause nearer to my heart or having a goal I want to achieve so badly.

But tonight, I will walk for a different reason. My friends, Shandra and Heather, are celebrating their remission from cancer. Shandra has been cancer-free for four years, Heather has been in remission for two years. While this is worth a celebration in itself, I want to honor them for different reasons.

Shandra has been one of my best friends since high school. I still remember the day she called to tell me that she'd been diagnosed with cancer. I remember I'd just gone back up to school for Spring Semester my senior year of college, and she called to tell me the first day at my new job. I remember it was really cold out that day and I walked around and around the block, trying to digest the news that she was sick. I remember I drove back to see her that night and we went to a basketball game at our old high school. I remember the first time I saw her after she'd gone through chemotherapy.

But, what Shandra may already know, I remember her as an unbelievable inspiration. I remember her telling us about the "Drunkies in Doo-Rags" party she had to shave her head. I am still amazed that she was able to graduate college on time, completing her final semester while going through chemotherapy. I remember her refusal to wear a wig because she didn't want to look like she was trying to cover something up. But what sticks most in my mind is a conversation Shandra and I had when I was dropping her off at her house after a night when we'd had too many cocktails. I remember sitting in her cul-de-sac in Revere Court, and confessing to her how scared I was to be going through all this testing for multiple sclerosis. And now, several years away from that night, I can't believe how selfish I was. I was crying to someone who was in the midst of a battle with cancer and I didn't even have MS.

It was on this night that Shandra gave me the best advice I have ever received. She told me that, when it gets right down to it, you can only ever control your attitude and you have to give the rest of it all up. In that context, she was saying that you can only do so much - you can be proactive about your medical care, you can get the best treatment available and you can take good care of yourself, but at the end of the day, you have to realize that it's in God's hands. The only thing that we can control is how we perceive the situation. We can control only our attitude.

This advice has carried me through a number of difficult situations. Recently, I was able to tell Shan the impact her words had on me when she was going through another trying time and give her advice back to her. This kernel of wisdom has been passed between the two of us quite frequently since then as we have both experienced set-backs in recent months.

But, for those of you who are only reading about my friend, Shan...I wish you could know her. She is inspiring and confident in the most humble way. She doesn't judge and will listen to you, no matter what. I am so honored to have someone like her in my life and I am so proud to be celebrating four years of remission tonight!

As for my friend, Heather, we've only grown closer in recent years. While we were peripheral friends throughout grade school, middle school, and high school, she and I only got to know each other after high school. Heather was diagnosed with tongue cancer during the winter of 2005. Again, we went down to visit her shortly after she had undergone fairly invasive and intense procedures to remove part of her tongue. As she candidly describes her surgeries, "her leg is in her arm and her arm is in her mouth" - meaning that the doctors took grafts from her forearm to replace the tissue removed from her tongue and took grafts from her leg to replace the void in her arm.

I remember sitting around her room at the Mayo Clinic. Despite the fact that she couldn't talk, she was making jokes on her white board and seemed embarrassed about all the attention that was being given to her.

And again, she continues to inspire and humble me. While internally, I believe that she has her struggles, she has never let it show. She plows forward at a million miles per hour and never have I met someone who lives life more "in the present" than she does. Heather is empathetic and energetic. There's a scene in a Sex and the City episode where Carrie tells an affirmation and motivational speaker that her friend, Charlotte is "out there - more out there than anyone she knows" and that's exactly how I feel about Heather. She is out there, experiencing life from all corners. Being around her immediately makes life seem sweeter and even the most mundane of dinners turns into something exciting and interesting based on her flair for the dramatic and her ability to tell stories.

While it may seem unlucky that two of my friends have been affected by cancer, I really see it as a silver lining. We are good in a crisis. We can pull together and provide an absolute safety net for each one of us - and I can attest to this. As Shandra says, you can only ever control your attitude and your perception. So, tonight...I am glad to celebrate both of your successes!

Silver Linings

I've been trying to find the words that would best encapsulate the ordeal that has been my life for the past two weeks, but there really is no explanation sufficient. Yet, the thought came to me while still groggy from medication and in the midst of a bout of feeling sorry for myself that life really is a series of unplanned events. Life is merely reality and whether events are good or bad depend on our perception of them and whether we see them through rose colored glasses or through the bottom of a half empty glass.

While there is little doubt that recovering from a punctured lung is not the way that I wanted to spend my summer, it happened and there's little use in dwelling on that fact and wondering why this kind of this always seems to happen to me. But, what I believe deserves time and attention are the amazing people that I have in my life. I know I've written about this before, but I believe that any expectation I ever had has been far exceeded.

I have become a very different person than who I was in college. I don't know why and there's really no point in examining it, but I grew up to be somewhat of an introvert. I need much more time than I would have ever needed in the past and I have become much more independent and self-sufficient. But, I would like to think that I am the type of person who you can count on when it really matters. I believe I am accepting. I believe in giving people more than just a second chance. And I don't hold grudges. And I don't have any regrets other than apologies.

There are so many things that I wish I could have said to so many people in my life. And there are people who will continue to be petty and forever be consumed by the small things in life and will always hold grudges. There are other people who will remain in their cliques and continue to demean, never actually seeing the consequences of their actions or the forest through the trees. But, I believe I made the right choices in life. None of these people are in my life any more. Those who are will support and love me until death, regardless of who I've become. And, I suppose that's really the essence of true friendship.

The friends that I have are truly rare. We love each other and we have helped each other through tragedy, happiness, surprise, and anger. There are people who might not understand us or comprehend such a large number of women remaining close. But this only contributes to the rarity of this friendship. Each one of us, I believe, lends something unique to our lives and without this attribute, without this gift, we'd be less human and at a disadvantage for not having each woman in our lives. And while my contact with these women is no longer daily, I am continually blessed by their presence, forgiveness, understanding, compassion, consideration, support and love. As a consequence to my independence, I suppose I really don't rely on anyone else and I expect that I have the tools to get through something on my own. But this past week has shown me that I don't need to do that and there are people willing to help me. Regardless of whether I've asked for it. Perhaps this whole disaster happened so I stop to look at the forest, and realize all the good I've been missing.

And, as a deviation from this, I'd like to recognize Jeff. He works harder than anyone I know. But, the kind of devotion, love, care and concern this man has shown me these past weeks literally leaves me speechless. I wish that I could convey to him the true sense of gratitude that I feel at having him in my life. He has slept by my side every night. He has taken care of me. We have gone far beyond the traditional notions of boyfriend and girlfriend. This man has helped me get dressed in the morning, has attended every doctor's appointment with me, he has made sure I eat well, and has cared for me and gone to great lengths to help me in any way that I need. I know that sentimentality makes him blush, but I just wanted him to know that I know the sacrifice he's making, even if he doesn't show it.

So, thanks...for helping me see the silver lining...for picking up those rose colored glasses and making the best of a bad situation. Your friendship has always been important to me.

The Hilton Riots

Remember the LA Riots in the 1990s? Over Rodney King? A black man who was savagely beaten by white policemen who were later acquitted, sparked riots all over the county. And, from the way that this "Paris Goes to Jail" fiasco is turning out, the rage in Los Angeles seems to be building again.

According to reports, Kathy and Rick Hilton went to visit their daughter in prison - a.k.a. a medical facility - and were allowed to skip the line of visitors, most of whom had been waiting since before 6:00 a.m. to see their loved ones. People interviewed outside the prison were enraged, and some even had their visits cut short so that the Hiltons could visit in privacy. I'm not entirely sure when the Hiltons became the First Family. But, the simple fact that Paris is getting preferential treatment has sparked outrage all across the county.

The news to Paris: Nobody likes you and those who do are in the minority. People are pissed that you're getting special treatment because you flaunt that you are above everyone else. Calling Barbara Walters and claiming repentance does not change the public's perception of you. Who even gets to call Barbara Walters in prison? She wouldn't be my first choice. Additionally, if people actually liked you, no one would care. Remember when Michelle Rodriguez went to jail? Yeah - neither do I. And this is the other thing I don't get - Paris refused to eat (thus the reason for serving the remainder of her sentence in a medical facility) because she didn't want a guard snapping a picture of her going to the bathroom. Please, sense the irony. We have seen countless naked crotch and ass shots. Her clothing choices don't leave much to the imagination and, let's not forget the debacle of "One Night in Paris." And she's embarrassed about having someone take a picture of her pantsless, sitting down? She was in a porno! The girl has hid nothing from America.

Truthfully, the media should be embarrassed of themselves. They have hyped this up and magnified every little detail. Even the Washington Post has stooped to report on Paris news. The girl America loves to hate is going to come out of this whole fiasco smelling like roses. And everyone else who comes out of prison is just left with the black mark on their record. The disparity is shocking and saddening. I don't blame the public for getting upset.

Count your blessings...

I never understood the phrase, "count your blessings." We say this to ourselves, and to other people when bad news is received as if to somehow lessen the blow. But, perhaps its when the best news is received that we should really take stock of all that we are given, and how lucky we all are, regardless of the trials that we face in our lives.

Yesterday, the doctor called to tell me that this tumor, the source of countless hours of sleeplessness, is benign. I don't have cancer. This news came on a pretty bad day for me. While I told myself that the only solution was to keep a positive outlook, I couldn't help but feel sorry for myself yesterday. I don't understand sometimes why all this stuff happens to me. But last night, I was sitting outside on my deck, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders, I found myself considering all for which I am grateful.

Mostly, I am grateful for the people I have chosen to surround myself with. My girlfriends are the most unassuming individuals I've ever known. I've always thought that I could never do anything to change their perception of me. I could never say or do anything to make them like me less or not want to be friends with me. They're the ones that listened to me, who called me and sought me out to talk, who confronted me with the issues even when I didn't necessarily want to be. That kind of friendship is unbelievable. Oftentimes, I think that true friendship is not about the nights out and the parties, I think it's more about being there for someone when it really matters. It's about shared experiences. A true friend will want to share the experience with you, even if it's not always a good one.

I'm thankful for my family who, despite their repeated assurances, called me literally every hour to see how I was doing. And my mother, who would listen to me talk and cry for hours if I asked her to. My dad, who lined things up and formed countless plans of action just to be on the safe side, so I'd never be without a game plan.

And, most importantly, I'm so grateful for Jeff. He seems born to deal with this kind of stuff. He did his research and talked to people. He called me with jokes to make me laugh and didn't let me get down on myself, despite the fact that I really wanted to most of the time. I never felt like I was going through this alone. He was always there. Even when I kicked him out of the biopsy, he was there. He made me have fun, he taught me to golf, and he also let me cry and didn't try to make me stop. I truly never felt so loved by any person. I felt protected and safe. I knew that, no matter what the outcome, he was never going to leave me or let me go at this alone. He's not really a sentimental, so I'll stop...but, I am so thankful for who he is.

There are countless of other things that I'm so thankful for. Counting my blessings is an absolutely insurmountable task. But I love undertaking it.

Words you never want to hear

This blog sits in the quiet recesses of one corner of the Internet...and I don't know if anyone ever reads it. No one comments on it, so I suppose that perhaps its my own personal, private diary in the most public space in the history of humanity.

There are certain words and phrases that no one wants to hear - phrases like, "You're fired" or "I don't love you any more." These words, inevitably, signal that we must be forced to change despite the fact that we don't want to. And, our natural reaction is to desperately try and hold onto the last few minutes of normalcy that existed before those words were ever uttered.

I encountered one of these phrases - "We've found a lump." To any woman - or any person - for that matter, this immediately inspires fear. I heard those words and I began desperately trying to clutch the last happy moments I remembered - driving to the doctor's office, laughing on the phone with Jeff while he was doing some silly impersonation of a wayward Southern preacher. They've found a lump - a tumor - about the size of a dime in my back, just to the left of my cervcial spine.

I don't even know if my reaction is warranted. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have a biopsy scheduled for this Friday and I'll have to wait a week or so to get the results. As if life couldn't get any crueler, I need to wait to find out if I have cancer. Cancer...that's the first time since this happened, that I've been able to actually think - or in this case, type - those words out. I don't want to even think them because everything will be fine.

My girlfriend, Shan, had cancer our senior year of college. I called her last night because she, of all people, understands. She told me that I'm allowed to be upset about this for a day - I get twenty-four hours to cry it all out. The, I need to start taking care of myself. She once told me that the only thing in the world you can ever really control is your attitude. You can't control anything other than that, at this point. You can be proactive about the care that you receive, you can follow your doctor's orders to the letter...but at some point, you need to step back and let the chips fall where they may. But, your attitude lets you determine how you're going to view your situation.

I promise that I'll get there. I will gain strength and I will stand on my own two feet and face this head on, no matter what happens. I'm just not there now. Mostly I'm just afraid.

You win some...you lose some...

But not this time!

After much anticipation on my part...I received the opinion back from the court on my first trial. For background, please read my post from May 15. Needless to say, I was terrified as I saw the papers sitting in my incoming mail that my secretary so noiselessly placed on my desk, whispering, "The Anderson decision came back today..." and backing out of my office.

I never really wrote much about the trial after it happened...but needless to say, the trial went about as badly as it really could have. I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't screw up the procedure, but the two men I was so terrified of going against were horribly unprepared for the trial and wanted to argue between themselves instead of argue the merits of the case. I kept my mouth closed. Then, my co-defense counsel pulled me aside during a break and told me that he didn't want to engage in too much "finger-pointing" which was the basis of my entire defense. I laughed that off until my first cross-examination when he began objecting to every single question I asked. I was becoming extremely flustered and nervous until the judge stepped in and told my co-defense counsel that she was issuing a blanket overrule to all his subsequent objections. (I think she may have been on my side and may have sensed my frustration and flustered-ness)...Then, about a week after trial, my associates and I are sitting outside at lunch one day on Nicollett when the plaintiff's lawyer walks by, approaches me, and tells me that after the decision is issued, his client would like me to know he's available and would like to take me to dinner.

So, needless to say, I think the deck may have been stacked in my favor.

But, the opinion came back today, dismissing my client from the suit with prejudice. As far as legal opinions and decisions go, this is about as good as it gets for an attorney. It's as if the claim against my client never existed.

For a brief period of time at least, I can claim that I'm undefeated.

And, in the words of my mother, success is the best revenge.

I'm a friend of Bill W....

There are certain people belong - and should go - to Alcoholics Anonymous.

My dog is not one of them. However, the drunk girl who fed him jello shots might benefit from becoming acquainted with Bill W.

Last night, I had my weekly kickball game. Maverick loves to attend the games and is our official team mascot. He loves all the attention he gets from my teammates and he gets to play with other dogs...be outside, and he even gets a bite of the occasional hot dog. Every time I pick up his little bag to go to kickball, he gets so excited.

I am the first base(wo)man. I like that Justin Morneau and I have some special bond because of this. In any case, I'm on the field and I leave Maverick to his own devices on the sideline. I look over at one point in the inning and see some girl feeding jello shots to my eight month old puppy. He's thinking that he's getting a treat and this girl is laughing hysterically.

I went over to her, called her a few choice words and questioned her ability to think...eventually, my team separated us. Her excellent logic pointed out that she thought it'd be funny to get a dog drunk. So. Maverick and I leave the game and the poor little guy is scared to death because he can't figure out what's wrong with him. He's having problems walking straight and he keeps sitting back on his haunches and looking at his paws.

We (meaning drunky and myself) went to pick up Jeff and we subsequently head into Uptown to the SoHo Cafe for dinner. Maverick is kind of lolling against Jeff's stomach. We decided to just pick something up and take it home because our dog is drunk. In any case, while I'm parking, Maverick throws up all over the back seat of the car....so, we clean it up...and both of us are fuming at this point. Maverick is crying and moaning outside the car because he doesn't feel well and he's embarrassed and afraid he's going to get in trouble for puking.

Eventually, we make it home. Maverick goes to sleep it off. At some point, I pick him up to take him to bed and he's moaning because the poor little guy has a hang over. Needless to say, sleep was not an option last night. The only thing that made Maverick feel better was rubbing his belly. So, I stayed up with my sick "child" all night long.

But, fear not, he was fine this morning and even attempted to swallow a battery whole. If this dog lives to see his first birthday, I will consider it a miracle.

What I don't get...

I was watching television last night when a commercial for All laundry detergent came across the screen. The specific product advertised was "All - Small & Mighty" laundry detergent. The product claimed that it was three times as concentrated as regular All and therefore, a person would simply have to use less laundry detergent. The "All - Small & Mighty" bottle claims to be able to wash thirty-two loads of laundry.

I don't understand this gimmick.

The regular All - the one in the big detergent bottle - also washes thirty-two loads of laundry. There's nothing "extra-special" about the "Small & Mighty" bottle except the size. The thing that gets me is that the only "extra special" thing about this detergent is that the bottle is smaller - and you use less laundry detergent. But it doesn't matter because, regardless of the size of the bottle you buy, because you're still only going to get to wash thirty-two loads of laundry.

I did a little research on the All website. When they were asked about how the Small & Mighty product compared to the regular detergent, this was their response:

Let’s just say it can hold its own with the big boys. All® Small & Mighty’s® 3x more powerful formula allows you to get a mighty clean with 1/3 the amount of All® that you are probably used to using. Remember, good things come in small packages!

Therefore, I'm pretty sure that the only thing special about this detergent is that it's small. I also did some research about the cost of the detergent. The regular All detergent costs about $2.00 less than the Small & Mighty. So, this means that you're paying $2.00 more to do the same amount of laundry. There really is no benefit to using this product. The only people I can see this product benefiting is the old ladies that can't lift the ten pounds that the regular detergent bottles cost.

I've been seeing these incredible shrinking products everywhere. Everything seems to be getting smaller - and I don't know why that is. Perhaps the product isn't selling and so they decide to make it smaller to see if that will increase sales - I don't know. In any case, until they either decrease the price of the incredibly shrunk products or somehow make them worthwhile and sensible in terms of cost, I think I'll stick to the original.

Walk the Plank

I have my first trial tomorrow. I'm working so hard to try and settle the case, but I just don't think it's going to get there today...so, tomorrow I start my first trial. And, truth be told, I don't know that I really understand what I'm doing. This is bad news for my client.

I suppose I should pony up and actually try the case. I know it better than the managing partner, I took the deposition, I attended the pre-trials, I attempted to settle it. I wanted to be a trial lawyer, and this is how you get there, I suppose.

What's holding me back is that I'm going against two men who have been in the business for more than thirty years. Now, dear reader, you must understand that I am not even thirty years old. I am twenty-six years old and going to trial for the first time. There's also a co-defense counsel, who I don't really like either. I feel like he's trying to man-handle me and push me around simply because I'm a young woman. This has also been confirmed by the managing partner on the case. The original trial strategy on this case is that I would handle all the day-to-day stuff on the file, and then, the seasoned, name partner would try the case. In a sense, we were trying to stage a coup...draw them in with my inexperience and then hit them with the big guy.

However, now I am the "big guy" and all that inferiority has come creeping up and I am left shaking in my stylish, yet affordable, heels.

I know that this is the first of many trials I will face. But...I'm scared to walk the plank.

Paris goes to jail

One of the top stories that was on the news this morning was that the heiress, Paris Hilton, was sentenced to spend 45 days in jail for violating her parole.

Her excuse is that she is treated unfairly because of who she is and that the cops are out to get her because they have all hit on her and she's turned them down. Now, I will say that I don't necessarily wish jail time on someone - but I do think that Paris should absolutely pay down her time in the slammer.

Paris Hilton was actually late yesterday to her own court appearance which doesn't make a judge happy. Believe me. I had a professor in law school once who told me that, "Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable..." and then he went on to tell stories of how cases have been thrown out simply because a party was late. It just goes to show that Paris has absolutely no respect for the legal system and expected to walk through it with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Perhaps she expected His Honor to hit on her as well.

The other thing that drives me nuts about this all is that she tried to blame it on Elliot Mintz, her publicist (who in my opinion, deserves to be nominated for some kind of sainthood) by saying that Elliot told her she could drive under certain circumstances. Well, ignorance is fortunately not a defense to the law. But, the total ludicrousness of this whole incident keeps getting expounded. A petition has been drafted trying to get the California governor to pardon Paris because she provides "beauty and excitement to (most of) our otherwise mundane lives." Ahem. Offensive. As if Arnie didn't have anything better to do, he should grant Paris a pardon because she's pretty. Get over it. She urges all fans to "sihn" her petition. My guess is that she may not have been so ignorant if she had actually taken the time to learn how to read and spell. Then, she could have read the charges against her, actually understood that she wasn't supposed to driver her car, and learned how to spell "sign" in the process.

I was watching some special last night about creative sentencing, which I wholeheartedly support. It involved using embarrassment - rather than jail time - for non-violent offenders to really get the message across that their actions were wrong. It involved everything from lecturing in a dog costume to children about pet care for a man who abused dogs to wearing a sign indicating her crime in front of the store from where this woman stole. Naomi Campbell was sentenced under creativity for making the princess/supermodel perform community service in the sanitation department. My point is, that in the spirit of "creative sentencing," jail time is probably a perfect punishment for Paris. Gone are her pills, booze, labels, pets, and her luxury. For the first time in her life, she'll just be another person. But, I doubt she'll actually take prison that seriously.

Now, Paris is claiming that she was treated unfairly because of "who she is." And, while I don't disagree entirely, my guess is that she's seeing it through rose colored glasses. In a poll on People.com, 91% of people believe that Paris should go to jail. My guess is it's not because of what she did wrong, necessarily, it's because most people can't stand her - because of "who she is." It isn't because the wold loves her, it's because she made herself famous for partying, crotch shots, and amateur porn movies.

Or, maybe the judge's kid got harassed on "The Simple Life." His Honor has his reasons too, you know. But, I'm happy to see at least one person take a stand and actually enforce the law.

My most favorite website...

I love this website. I especially love the section about "Missed Connections" and "Rants and Raves." It makes me laugh and I love to see the little antidotes that people post in there.

Link

Join the Movement

Yesterday, I participated in the MS Walk around St. Paul and Minneapolis. We walked nine miles to help find a cure for multiple sclerosis. While the weather could have been better, I am never disappointed by the motivation and inspiration I find within each one of these events. This one, however, hit pretty close to home for me and I spent most of the walk thinking how lucky I was and how big of a bullet I actually dodged.

During my senior year of college, I began to have some serious problems with my right shoulder and arm. Originally, the doctors thought that it was due to an old soccer injury that I'd had surgically repaired some years before. But, I began to lose function and sensation in my right hand and arm. So, scans and tests were ordered and they found some abnormalities in my brain. Make all the jokes you want now...back then, it wasn't funny. A doctor told me, somewhat ambivalently, that it looked like I was in the beginning stages of MS.

Over the next two and a half years, I visited every specialist in the State of Minnesota. I went to neurologists, neuropsychiatrists, motor function specialists, physical medicine specialists, physical therapists, orthopedists, and cardiologists. I also underwent just about every test in the book - from MRIs to CT scans, spinal taps to EMGs and EKGs. My blessings became the occasional week where I wasn't scheduled to see any doctors. It was emotionally and physically exhausting for both me and my family. I remember sitting in the waiting room with my mother - waiting to see yet another expert in the field of MS - watching all those who already suffered significantly from the disease and crying because I believed my young, strong body would eventually deny me.

These doctors put me on all different kinds of trial drugs and had me undergo motor function tests to try and figure out the cause of my slowness in response and my lack of sensation. Nothing worked. Eventually, during my second year of law school, I saw a new specialist who looked at all my test results and told me, just as ambivalently as the first doctor had, that he didn't think I had MS.

Just like that.

He referred me to a cardiologist who determined I had thoracic outlet syndrome - a condition where my first and second ribs were too close together and were constricting my thoracic artery, cutting off the circulation to my nerves and causing the loss of sensation in my hand and fingers. So, the doctor removed the rib and I was restored to "normal."

Far be it from me to forget to count my blessings but those two and a half years left me significantly changed and somewhat jaded. Then, my girlfriend Shan - who overcame her own personal battle with cancer - told me that the only thing you can ever truly control is your attitude. I had been so angry at all the doctors who put me through all that testing and who had kept me up at night for two and a half years that I failed to see the blessing in it all. While there are certain blessings which may seem obvious, I was left healthy for a reason.

Yesterday, I felt so inadequate. I raised money, yes...but I got to walk nine miles to show my support for MS research. More importantly, I can walk nine miles. I walked past people in wheelchairs and people who were struggling to make the next step. My body has gotten stronger and it doesn't seem fair. Those people who suffer from the disease motivate me to move faster and farther. They are the people who don't blame their circumstances for their lot in life - the ones who push us to make a change.

Fortune smiles on so many people who fail to appreciate the significance of its gifts. I realized that I had to go through what I did to appreciate all that I have. People can make a change. We just have to realize what we've been given and use it to inspire change in others.
Link

The Most Over-played Song of All Time

"Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-a-Lot...

I hate this song. I think it came out when I was twelve years old and I don't think I've gone a week since 1992 without hearing that damn song. Radio stations insist on playing it at least once a day and it is still being played at the bars and clubs like some kind of mantra.

Girls will occasionally get out and shake their asses to the song, but come on...at some point the song gets a little ridiculous. It's about a man loving a woman with a giant ass. Which is all fine and good but I think it's gotten to the point where the song has become the "Big Ass Anthem."

Perhaps if the song was played on a less frequent basis, it would still hold some of the nostalgia and fond memories that it once did. Like Young MC. But the song is played so much that my mother actually knows the words. And it's disturbing to see a 58-year old woman is rapping "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hon!"

And, truth be told...I can't tell if one should actually be offended by the song. For example, while the song is all about loving "back" when it's played in the dance clubs and someone actually goes out to dance to it, are you showing off your assets or admitting you have a giant butt?

While having junk in the trunk is the equivalent of the large breast movement for the new millenium, "Baby Got Back" does not appreciate the ass and talk about it with all the respect it's owed. The song talks about how a guy won't sleep with a woman who's butt isn't stuffed.

So, to the radio stations and DJs playing this song...stop, for the love...it's kind of offensive and fifteen years old. Put it on the shelf and let it collect dust for a while.

Share the road

There are many signs telling us that spring is here...the plants are turning green again, the jackets are being put in the closet, and the bikers are returning to our streets.

Last week, Minneapolis held an event entitled "Share the Road" and it involved bringing awareness to drivers about keeping an eye out for the two-wheelers. While I wholeheartedly agree that some drivers need to be more conscious of bikers on the streets, I am dismayed that this event did not focus on bikers sharing the road with drivers. While this is not an attack on all bikers, there are some who pedal around our city acting as though they have the right of way in every situation. There are bikers who refuse to use the bike paths and bike lanes built solely for their use and instead insist on riding in the middle of the street, well below the posted speed limit, creating significant traffic disturbance from all directions. There are also those who refuse to follow the rules of the road by failing to use the appropriate hand signals to indicate turns and by neglecting the stop lights and stop signs posted for all traffic control.

This has been a huge "pet peeve" of mine for years. However, it really came to a head last weekend.

I live in the Warehouse district in downtown Minneapolis. There are bike lanes all over my neighborhood. I know where they are, despite the fact that they are rarely used by those who ride their bikes. On Friday night, I was driving to meet my family for my boyfriend's birthday dinner. While turning right onto Third Avenue from North Second Street, I paused at a green light to allow a young woman to walk through the crosswalk. I was completely stopped when, all of a sudden, I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye and felt something hit my car. When I looked to my right, I noticed a very angry biker screaming at me. He had run his bike into the passenger side of my car. At this point, I was completely uncertain as to what had transpired based on the fact that I was at a complete stop when I was hit.

After exiting my vehicle, I was subjected to a tirade by this biker, telling me that he had the right-of-way, despite the fact that he had a red light at the intersection for the direction he was headed. After being subjected to several derogatory comments about the kind of woman I was, his argument boiled down to the fact that he had every right to ram my car because he had a bike lane. However, I wasn't in his bike lane, but merely making a right onto a street under heavy construction. If I had been infringing on his lane in any way, it was only to avoid the large orange cones and the steady stream of oncoming traffic. After being threatened with legal action, I snapped.

My frustration stems from the fact that, yes, we are supposed to share the road with bikers. This means that bikers need to share the road with cars. It does not mean one needs to intentionally ram his bike into a vehicle. This man should have stopped. He shouldn't have hit my car. Can you imagine if drivers chose to intentionally hit other cars because of gridlock traffic or a car stopped at a yellow light instead of speeding through it? What would happen if a driver hit a biker because he was riding in the middle of the street at a significantly slower speed? Perhaps this man had a bad day and I was simply on the receiving end of his meltdown. But, this really speaks to a larger issue that needs to be addressed:

1. If bikers are going to ride on the streets, they need to follow the street signs and traffic lights. This is for the safety of all drivers and pedalers. They need to use hand signals to indicate which direction they are turning. Drivers are required to use their turn signals and bikers should follow the same rules of the road.

2. If bikers aren't riding at the posted speed limit, move to the side of the road. This again, is a simple traffic law. Slower traffic should move to the right and allow for the faster moving traffic to pass on the left. Forcing a car to pass a biker in a lane of oncoming traffic is not safe for either the biker or the driver.

If bikers refuse to follow the rules of the road, they should be given a moving violation.

3. Use the bike paths. I will never understand why a biker chooses to ride in the street, right next to a perfectly good bike path. Using words like "on your left" clears up any traffic that may be moving slower on the paths.

4. Stop weaving in and out of traffic. Cars are watching you to see what you're doing, trying to avoid hitting you, and not necessarily paying attention to what else is going on around them. If there are bike lanes, I don't understand why bikers don't use them.

5. Lastly, to the man who hit me, get over yourself. You ride a bike in spandex. You aren't Master of the Universe and your bike does not entitle you to special privileges. You were wrong. Attempting to demean me and humiliate me doesn't make you a bigger person or make it right to yell at me.

And, like I told you that night, I'm a lawyer...I love a good fight. So bring on the law suit.

A side note...

I attended a Focus meeting for the Breast Cancer Three-day walk.

The walk is sponsored by the Susan G. Kome Breast Cancer Foundation and is considered the largest non-profit organization dedicated to breast cancer research, treatment and prevention. Do you know how much money they've raised? Less than $1 billion. Breast cancer...the New York Yankees...The Yankee's payroll this year is just under $200 million.

It just kind of put it all into perspective for me. A ball club will spend more money to win the national championship than people are willing to donate to curing breast cancer. It is estimated that, without a cure, ten million women will die from breast cancer in the next twenty-five years. A-Rod is earning $27.7 million dollars this year.

I know that American values have to lie elsewhere...

So you had a bad day...

Yesterday could have been better.

And, sometimes I fail to see why I'm so lucky that I've made it through my life relatively unscathed. I've had some set backs and I have had some failures...but my life would be deemed successful, worthwhile, and happy...

Let me explain. Yesterday I deposed my first rape victim. This has affected me in ways I didn't really expect. As an attorney, you should appear to have taken it all in stride. You are not supposed to show your surprise, you should act as if you knew it all along.

But, what killed me yesterday was the fact that this woman was twenty-one years old and scared. She didn't speak English...she couldn't read...she's single and five months pregnant. And, as a human, there are certain things that we cannot stomach. This was one of them. As she talked about how my client had repeatedly raped her, I began thinking about my duties to my client as a lawyer. As a woman - as a human - my initial response was to be as caring, compassionate and concerned as possible. But as an attorney, my response is somewhat different. It's supposed to be unemotional, unaffected and suspicious. I am supposed to be a zealous advocate for my client. But, how can I act that way when I have a frightened young woman sitting across from me, telling me her most shameful experiences?

So, what did I do? I tried to poke holes in her story, I tried to find footing on which I could build a defense. I did my job. I'd like to think that I was respectful of her while I was doing it, but come on...I was trying to find the pieces that didn't fit.

I haven't stopped thinking about it.

There's got to be a Silva lining...

I love the Minnesota Twins...I love what they're about, how they play the game...they're cute, funny and to me, represent what baseball should be about.

I once read an article about the New York Yankees...according to this article, George Steinbrenner has spent $1 billion dollars in the past six years on his franchise...that's $1 billion dollars not to win a championship for the past six years. The phrase "waste of money" and pictures of starving children in Africa come to mind. But, the Yankees are the most notorious team in baseball...everyone knows who plays for them...everyone knows who played for them...from the Babe to Gehrig, DiMaggio, Yogi Berra and Micky Mantle...and as those who have paved the way for today's ball players, there are no bigger names and players who have affected the game of baseball. The Twins, on the other hand, haven't spent $1 billion dollars on their team in the entire franchise history.

Granted, our last championship was almost sixteen years ago...

But last night's game reminded me of how much I really love the game of baseball. After a somewhat tumultuous series with the Yankees (well, let's be honest, they turned us over their knee and spanked us like we were little children) the Twins showed us that they really play baseball for the love of the game.

They swing their bats hard...they don't quit...even when it looks like the batter got a double, the Twins somehow find an ability to turn that into a double play. The only one who isn't getting any love yet is Carlos Silva. He's had two excellent outings and the relievers and closers just have to go and take away that "W." But, it's nice to see Silva back in true form. I've been a little nervous since last season...and especially when they announced he was in the rotation.

But the point of the story is this: The Twins don't need money to make the game great. They still play well, they look like they have fun and they've cultivated a fan base that loves them. While the same can be said for the Yankees, you don't see Twin fans booing Little Nicky Punto when he tries to steal second...and you don't hear them trying to send Torii packing when he tries to be a hero...True, Rondell White did get on many a Twins fan's bad side last year with is below the Mendoza line batting average. But, we love our Twins...we appreciate them and they play baseball because they love the game...not the money that comes with it.

And I would walk sixty miles...

So, the commercials got to me.

I realized that this disease - cancer - has affected the lives of so many people who are close to me. It has affected me personally. I thought about how our lives would change if cancer was cured. And then I thought that thinking does nothing to bring anyone closer to a cure.

However, this can.

I am going to participate in the 2007 Twin Cities Breast Cancer Walk. Over the course of three days, I will walk sixty miles. It will be a great physical undertaking and I cannot wait to tackle the challenge. I want to walk to stand up for those who have been cut down by this disease. I want to walk to show support for those who are currently fighting cancer. I want to do this for those who will fight in the future. More importantly, I want to walk to show my support and love for those in my life who have been so deeply affected by breast cancer.

And, this is where you come in. I have pledged to raise $2,200.00 and I am asking for both your financial and emotional support to attain this goal. Any donation is greatly appreciated. You can click on the link below to take you directly to my personal fundraising webpage. Please send this to anyone you believe will be able to assist me in reaching this goal. I look forward to this challenge and to do something bold to fight breast cancer.

Thank you for your support.

http://www.the3day.org/twincities07/katiekopperud