Corner Office, but still no Ocean View

It's been a month now, since my boss, on the very last minute, promoted me by exiling me to another office, to salvage the possibility of losing a major law firm account. As soon as I got back from my mini vacation, I was shipped seven blocks away, demoted to a lower floor, but given a corner office. The only people in this firm who get a corner office in the entire building are the partners. Well, who was I to complain, since I did not have to make partner and even go to law school, for that matter, to get my corner. I even have a bigger office than some of my neighboring attorneys. My only complaint is that I still do not have my requested ocean view. I guess it is an impossible request, if one's office is in downtown Los Angeles. For now my view is a construction site of another future condo, the old Hotel Figueroa (which side wall is used for movie promos), the Staples Center, the L.A. Convention Center, the 110 Pasadena/Harbor Freeway, and the infamous L.A. smog.

The dress code in this trial law firm is so laid-back, it is almost difficult to differentiate the mailroom boy from a partner who is wearing a torn vintage T-shirt, cargo pants, and flip-flops. They change to their power suits only when they travel, go to court or meet with clients. Even if I like dressing up, I find it such a refreshing change. I guess I'll just have to adapt and update my homey wardrobe for casual Mondays to Fridays.

I find myself busier than ever and more stressed, taking no breaks, leaving the office late, skipping the gym, having dinner very late, and losing sleep. At this pace, the firm had better give me my ocean view, or else!...LOL.

Age is just another number

I do not know what happened, but when I turned 29, something suddenly changed...I stopped being carded to check if I was 21 or older, when I would enter a bar/club and/or order a cocktail. Once my age number surpassed my waistline number, which I proudly maintained since college, I got the feeling that it was the sign that it was all going downhill from there.
Then when I turned 35, commercialism made me keenly aware that I was no longer part of the marketable young demographic.
Nowadays, I have to stop and think to remember how old I actually am. It now seems just like any other number...
I guess until I reach the Big 4-0.
Now at my age, especially since I came to my parents' lives, with my mother having just turned 41, I feel simply blessed to still have them with me. Fortunately, they are still relatively quite healthy in their late 70s-mid 80s. However, that does not stop me from worrying about my elderly parents since the vast Pacific separates us. It's a good thing that my father has this lifetime benefit, for both my mom and himself, of flying first class free during their lifetime, after my dad retired from the airline. Thus they are able to visit their kids abroad at their pleasure. I have not seen my Dad in a year and my Mom in two, so my birthday was extra special, since they decided to fly over here to be with my sister, Bill, and me, for our successive birthdays in August.
That's the best gift I could have asked for!

iPostcards from Maine & Vermont

We're back!
Had a fabulous time!
Please click on the following destinations to be directed to the specific posting:

Portland

Peaks Island, ME

Kennebunkport, ME

Ogunquit, ME

Pittsfield, VT

iPostcards from Maine

Under Construction - Coming Soon!

iPostcards from Vermont

Under Construction - Coming Soon!

11 on the 11th

Bill and I are celebrating our 11th anniversary today!
That's more than a decade! That's 77 in gay dog years! Now, whoever said that I was unlovable and that same sex relationships can't/don't last beyond one night to six months?!?
We now have surpassed millions of breeder couplings who have either ended their marriage in divorce, legal separation,...or (as in the case of some of my fellow Roman Catholics) annulments!
In a little more than a week, we will be headed for Vermont. No, not to get married or anything like that. We're going to attend the wedding of Bill's nephew, Kaya, to his beautiful fiance, Kelley, which happens to fall on Bill's birthday.
The blessing of our own union will just have to wait until the powers that be allow us to live in a more beautiful, educated, and enlightened world.

Leaving my mark in "Amerika"

I apparently received a one-week notice for an appointment to have my fingerprinting done in connection with my U.S. citizenship application, during the period that I was out of town. By the time I opened the letter, the date had already passed and now I was at risk of having my application delayed even further. I immediately wrote a letter of complaint to the USCIS, explaining why I missed it, that they should have given me a more advanced notice, and that they therefore should now expedite my application. I marched to the nearest immigration application center ready to do battle. I was surprised to be greeted by a friendly clerk, who simply said, "Well you're in luck, today is a slow day, and we can take you right this moment".
I imagined with the modern infra-red photo-technology, this was going to be a quick, clean and painless procedure. I was wrong. It took an average of seven swipes per finger to get a good read. I could see the officer was getting frustrated as she painfully kept wiping my finger with a wet cloth to moisten it. She then asked me, "What kind of work do you do?!?". Oh boy, I knew what she was actually trying to say behind that question. She meant that the reason my prints were not registering properly is perhaps due to my hands seemingly being drier than that of a common farmer's daughter. I came to America with skin as soft as a baby's butt. Now after 11 years of life in America without affordable household help; I am only left with a memory of my once soft and smooth hands. The officer had to ask a supervisor to approve my fingerprint readings and override the system to finally accept them as passable. I was so apologetic to them. They eventually gave me a smile to appease my embarrassment. I hollered back at them, "I swear, I moisturize my hands at least 6 times a day!". Not realizing then that I sounded more like a horny teenager confessing that he has been up to no good...LOL.