Ouch...

So day two of pain, which I'm told may still get worse yet. What, may you ask, has caused this pain? A very long hike on Sunday, resulting in sore legs and even more sore back, thanks to a lovely sunburn I obtained on the hike down. My very dear friend suggested that we hike up Mt. Eldon, something I had never done before. We had been standing in the parking lot of Salsa Brava when she suggested it, and I looked up at the mountain and said, "Sure! Sounds like fun!" So we agreed to meet up about 7am on Sunday morning with snacks and water and I would borrow some hiking boots from her and we would be on our way. Clearly, I did not fully think this through. Which is perhaps a good thing, because I had I done so, I may not have been so quick to agree. But in spite of it all, I am glad I did it. So Sunday comes, we find ourselves running a little late, but by 7:45 we're ready to start out. It wasn't supposed to be too hot that day, and it began as a rather cool morning. We start the hike with her dog, who guilted her into being brought along, and found the first mile went rather quickly. Only at that time did I think to ask how long it was. I found out it was a five mile hike total, if we made it all the way to the very top. Even then, I didn't think much of it. After all, walking five miles isn't bad. What I failed to take into consideration, however, was the incline. It turns out that the two and a half miles up the mountain include gaining nearly 3,000 feet in elevation. And about 2/3 of the way up, I began realizing what exactly I had gotten myself into. As we turn another corner and see yet another steep switch-back, the only things that kept me going were stubbornness (I had come more than half-way, damn it, I wasn't giving up!) and, when that failed, the knowledge that by that point, it was closer to go up than back down. And every time my friend pointed out the top as we got closer and said, "See? It's not that much further," I countered with, "That still looks like a long way away..." Which it was. In spite of the people we passed who said we weren't far from the top. And who said, "Once you get to the saddle, it's pretty gentle grade the rest of the way up." Gentle my ass! (Yes, there was also a lot of swearing to get me up to the top as well... I had read an article that said a scientific study found that swearing helps you deal with pain, and I certainly believe it). I had never before done a hike that intense. I've hiked before, even fairly long distances before, but never anything that far up. And I haven't done any hiking of any kind in the past two years. Boston is pretty much flat, and I hadn't been out of the city much. So needless to say, convincing my legs to keep climbing became a bit of a challenge. It wasn't so much that they hurt then, or even necessarily felt tired. It just felt as if they were refusing to move. My slight consolation is that as we met people on the way up, they did admit that it was a difficult hike. But somehow I had it in my head that it was supposed to be no big deal. Now, however, I know better. Once we reached the top (okay, so once I reached the top, as my friend was already up there waiting for me), I was so thankful to be able to sit and recover a bit. However, the view of the city from there is actually pretty ugly. Oh well, at least on the other side we had a nice view of other mountains. The way down was better, but going down a steep, narrow path with loose dirt and rocks in many places presented its own set of challenges. And by that time, we were already into the hottest part of the day (which turned out hotter than anticipated), with most of the trail in the direct sun. And I hadn't brought the sunscreen with to re-apply. Somehow I forgot that it doesn't last forever. So now I have a lovely burn line in the shape of the Camelback I had on. Oh, and we ran out of water on the way down. Needless to say, I was thankful to finally see the car. We all were. Probably the dog most of all. He was panting so hard the entire car shook. When I got home, I was only able to stagger in, wash the thick layer of dirt off my face, and fall into bed, not to move for about an hour. That evening, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of pain, and thought it may have been more just an energy draining hike than an ass-kicking hike. Yesterday morning I found out how wrong I was. Ouch. And it's hard to say which was a worse pain, the legs or the sunburn. (For those of you who don't know, I'm normally extremely pale, so I burn quickly and badly.) Even having the burn covered, it still hurts to have the heat of the sun on it, which makes going outside during the day difficult. It hurts to even have it covered, because that means something is touching it. It hurts to lay down, which makes sleeping rather difficult. It hurts to move my arms because that means the burnt skin is being stretched and it rubs against the fabric covering it. But I suppose it wouldn't be a summer spent in Arizona without at least one burn...
Okay, I think I'm done whining about this now.

Ah, summer...

Okay, so that didn't take too long before I was willing to re-write...

So for those of you who were unaware, I have spent my summer in beautiful Flagstaff, Arizona, working for a private defense attorney and living with my occasionally crazy, though always fun, friend and three giant dogs. I had a few misgivings about being away from Boston for so long, but soon learned to readjust to the completely different pace of life in Flag. I've learned to come to terms with doing defense work, mainly by the comforting realization that most of these people are complete idiots and have voluntarily confessed so they're going to jail (and before anyone who does defense work takes issue with this, I'm talking about specific cases here, not defendants in general, and these guys have done some pretty heinous things). I've enjoyed working in downtown Flagstaff, where I make the daily mid-morning trip to Late for the Train for some tasty caffeine concoction or another (totally hooked on Retro-Metros and Mate Lattes). I've enjoyed being able to have lunch out on the patio on Heritage Square, where I see a myriad of entertaining people pass, and listen in to the mayor talk about her birthday party, playing Monopoly, and Twittering about something they laughed at on the square but making it sound very official. I've enjoyed wandering downtown after work or on the weekends, stopping in for a drink at the Wine Loft or with a bunch of attorneys at Rendezvous, finding random music festivals down on the Square, and of course, trying on nearly every hat at the Theatrikos rummage sale before parading around downtown with friends on a Saturday night wearing hats and very odd other costume pieces (which, by the way, we only received about two odd looks for and one question...did we really not stand out? Scary...). I've enjoyed taking the doggies on a walk up on the mesa. I've enjoyed taking the yoga classes in the morning before work (in spite of all my internal swearing by the last sun salutation and my hands are slipping off my mat during downward dog, which is not yet a "restful" pose for me) and in the evenings for deep-stretching yin. I've enjoyed the Sunday morning Farmer's Market, with the fresh, local vegetables, bread, cheese, and yummy breakfast sandwiches from NJ Pizza. I've enjoyed the mountains, the sunshine, the trees, the monsoons, the slower pace. I've enjoyed seeing friends that I haven't seen in years. I've enjoyed the summer dinner parties on the patio with amazing friends, amazing food, and amazing wine. I've enjoyed taking Argentine Tango lessons, even if I never could quite get the hang of the motion. I've enjoyed the serenity of not living right on Comm Ave, even if the stillness of the night is often interrupted by the train. In short, I've enjoyed my summer. But now it is coming to an end. In less than a week, I will be leaving Flagstaff, heading back to Boston and classes and the crazy pace of life in the city. Back to waiting for the T, walking to school, studying... But also back to the good part of Boston, the friends there, the fun we have, the city I've come to love. I'll miss Flagstaff summer, but I'm looking forward to being back!

Really freakin long time...

But as I was half-way through a really long update, this computer (which I have determined hates me) decided to, of it's own volition, erase it all and reload the page. I so don't want to re-write all that now, since this is basically for my own need to write rather than anyone to read, and I've already written it once (even if it was lost). Another time then. Hopefully when the computer is being less of a pain in the ass.

International Law Today!

Okay, first exam today! By 4pm, I will be officially done with International Law. It actually doesn't scare me nearly as much as it did a couple of weeks ago. Believe it or not, it is pretty straight forward. The hardest thing is remembering which treaty is which (Is it the 3rd Geneva Convention or the 4th that details standards of treatment of POWs? Third, I think...). There are ten thousand Geneva Conventions, Vienna Conventions, Hague Conventions... And of course, as we learned about the provisions in class, it was merely "Article 5 says...", not "3rd GC, Article 5 says..." Oh well. We get our notes for the essays, as well as all the other materials from class. Hopefully this exam will be a success. Wish me luck!

Crim Pro or Kitchen Experiments?

Nothing like trying to study all day to make my mind wander in three thousand directions... So in between answering questions for the 1Ls, trying to get my Lexis account to work again and listening to the Barbri lecture, I decided something sweet would be really kind of yummy (anyone else get that urge when faced with hours upon hours of studying?). As I have a tendency to not normally have sweet stuff on hand (aside from dried Turkish figs...but they weren't quite going to cut it at the moment), I began trying to think of what I could make. This was even more of a problem, because I've been trying to use things up (I'm leaving way too soon), and therefore have an extreme shortage of flour. So my fabulous thought for lemon poppy seed bread went nowhere. Instead, I decided to go for peanut butter cookies, based on the simplest recipe I've ever come across, as it does not include flour. However, either I remembered the recipe wrong, or it just doesn't quite work the same with natural peanut butter. So I decided to throw a few more things in, and wound up with some fabulous PB&J cookies, with a little banana. First time I've actually made up my own recipe for baking (somehow that always frightens me more than cooking without a recipe), and I have to say it was a total success! And now as the last pan is about to come out of the oven, it's back to crim pro. The warm cookie helps take the sting out.

Oh Scalia...

I love the humor of Scalia, even when it is unintentional...

How Do You Solve the Problem of Scalia?
The razor-thin line between obscenity and bad judgment.
By Dahlia Lithwick


Leave it to Justice Antonin Scalia to trigger a nationwide debate about the hermeneutics of chin flips.

But first, a brief glance at the procedural history: It's undisputed that a newspaper reporter approached Scalia as he left a special Red Mass for lawyers and politicians at Boston's Cathedral of the Holy Cross. It's also not disputed that when the reporter, Laurel Sweet, asked what Scalia had to say to critics who question his impartiality in light of his Roman Catholic beliefs, he offered a familiar hand gesture, adding, "You know what I say to those people?" and, evidently by way of explanation, "That's Sicilian."

Where the parties differ is regarding the meaning of the gesture in question. The Boston Herald initially characterized it as "obscene." Supreme Court spokeswoman Kathy Arberg carefully described it, by contrast, as "a hand off the chin gesture that was meant to be dismissive," but not obscene.

The lower courts immediately issued conflicting opinions: Evidently in some jurisdictions, the chin flick "is a gesture of contempt, somewhat less rude than giving a person 'the finger.' When used in the United States, it usually means 'Bug off, I've had enough of you.' Not a polite gesture, but not a particularly hostile one, either," according to one blog. A concurrence by Wonkette (complete with an illustrated appendix) reached a similarly benign conclusion: "Justice Scalia's gesture wasn't a full-fledged flipping of the proverbial bird. But it still wasn't exactly the most polite of actions; in some quarters, it could be interpreted as pretty darn close to giving someone the middle finger." Dissenters disagreed, finding that the gesture, whether chin flip, finger, or otherwise, is improper. The "thought of flipping somebody off in church, minutes after receiving the Eucharist, is just, well, beyond shocking, insulting, infuriating."

The issue might have died there—with a largely amused nation in good-natured agreement that the equivocal gesture was par for the course for Scalia's usual belligerence and bombast—were it not for his interlocutory appeal, filed yesterday with the Boston Herald. In a surprising (though not unprecedented) letter to the editor, Scalia disputes the finding that the alleged gesture was "obscene." Dismissing the reporter as "an up-and-coming 'gotcha' star" (and inserting some trademark Scalia wordplay involving her name—"o-so-sweetly") the justice clarified that the gesture was limited to "fanning the fingers of my right hand under my chin."

Fanning. Not flipping. Please take note of the significant legal distinction.

Scalia goes on to cite Luigi Barzini's book The Italians (query whether this constitutes the citation of foreign law) and pleads that "The extended fingers of one hand moving slowly back and forth under the raised chin means: 'I couldn't care less. It's no business of mine. Count me out.' This is the gesture made in 1860 by the grandfather of Signor O.O. of Messina as an answer to Garibaldi."

Scalia goes on to accuse Sweet of leaping to ethnic-slur conclusions: "From watching too many episodes of the Sopranos, your staff seems to have acquired the belief that any Sicilian gesture is obscene—especially when made by an 'Italian jurist.' " This in turn led to the Herald's decision to empanel a grand jury of Sopranos actors in order to shed further light on the meaning of the hand flip in question. Again, however, unanimity was impossible to achieve: "It's an obscenity," Joseph Gannascoli, who plays capo Vito Spatafore, opined. "It's not like grabbing your crotch, not that bad an obscenity. … But it's an obscenity. It's something you would do after paying a bookie, to your bookie, but not something you would do in church."

Not so, said John Fiore, who played Sopranos capo Gigi Cestone. "It's not that bad, but I wouldn't do it to my mother. No way. Would I do it in church? These days, maybe. It depends if the priest was giving me the hairy eyeball." Black's Law Dictionary contains no definition of "the hairy eyeball," nor does Title 18 of the U.S. Code.

Concurring in Fiore's result, but offering a separate opinion, was Steve Schirripa, who plays Bobby "Bacala" Baccalieri: "Ah, I think he meant 'to hell with ya.' " Frank Santorelli, who plays Bada Bing bartender Georgie, joined with the plurality: "It's kind of a light gesture … not a vicious one. It's not as bad as the (middle) finger."

The editors at the Boston Herald then tried to amend their pleading, styling the late filing as within their right to "get the last word." Obliquely referencing the Fiore dissent, the Herald conceded that the gesture at issue may not have been obscene, but added—in what is surely dicta—"Maybe so, but it's still not something you'd do to your mother." They appended to the record the photographic evidence of the gesture in question and the testimony of the photojournalist who snapped the shot, to wit: "The judge paused for a second, then looked directly into my lens and said, 'To my critics, I say, 'Vaffanculo.' " The Herald helpfully translates, "(expletive) you."

Some folks on the political right are already in raptures about Scalia's "rare clarity." His kiss-off is even being spun, amazingly, as a justified response to an insulting attack on his religious beliefs. Scalia is once again the victim, it seems, of cunning liberal attempts "to make him into news." He is being stalked and baited by the liberal media in the hopes that he will say something that will result in a demand for his recusal in future cases. My God, but we liberal journalists are cunning bastards. We just won't stop hitting poor Scalia's fist with our enormous, spiteful chins.

Dahlia Lithwick is a Slate senior editor.

Article URL: http://www.slate.com/id/2138117/

Class and Pop Culture Collide

"Supreme Court throws out Janet Jackson ruling: Justices order appeals court to consider reinstating fine for nipple flash."
How appropriate that I came across this headline as I'm sitting in admin. Chevron deference anyone?

FCC v. CBS Corp., 08-653