Actually this post has nothing to do with Obama's VP pick, except to say that T's phone went off this morning while it was sitting on my side of the bed, so I actually was the one to first read his "First to Know" text message announcing the pick. T learned the VP confirmation via my already half-asleep announcement: "It's Biden."
So what am I writing about here? Nothing really. I just feel the need to seize the computer while I have the chance. (Mine is still in pieces on the floor of our bedroom, to be assembled tomorrow.)
The final bit of orientation took place today. I rode the city bus up from my new neighborhood to the far north of the city, where a group of first year students participated in the annual 1L service project. After a long week of orientation-type activities, I was kind of regretting having signed up for the extra engagement. But it turned out to be a lot of fun. Not only did I get to play a bunch of foosball with some extra-competitive kids, but I also had a pretty interesting tour of the city on the half-hour ride up.
It's kind of cool how many different nooks and crannies there are to discover about this place. T and I explored two this evening. The first was part of a simple search for pizza. We walked up the main touristy thoroughfare that is just a block from our apartment, and after abandoning our table at the first place (it was far fancier than our budget allowed), we settled for Olympia Pizza, a cheap looking joint just up the block. Turned out to be the absolute worst pizza I've ever had. Tasted like cardboard topped with ketchup and cheese product. Still and all, it was one more place to cross of our list, and we discovered a neat little comic book store on the walk over.
Later, our second expedition found us walking several blocks east toward the fabled 24-hour dog park. The park turned out to be a typical city pocket park, with a dog run that was simply left unlocked at night. Neither of the two dog parks we've visited have had grass, and this one was laid with a fine, dusty gravel. It took a while, but we finally convinced E that it was, in fact, a dog park and he was, in fact, allowed to run around. He was skeptical of the gravel and, principe that he is, he daintily walked the concrete perimeter of the place for several minutes before deigning to get his paws dirty. But he came back pooped.
The public interest director and I rode the same bus back to our places after the service project this afternoon. On the ride back, I made a comment about how I'd been lead to believe that law school was going to be one of the hardest things ever. She looked at me in complete dead pan and said, "Being a lawyer is hard. Being a grown-up is hard. Law school is not that hard." She added that I should know, having been a grown-up for the past five years. (Her definition of grown-up being someone who is working and not in school.) Following that logic, I'm hopeful that this experience will be a fun challenge, not torture. I'm writing this post because I'm curious how I will look back on it in nine months, when I'll be a little more qualified to comment on the subject.