May 3, 2008

On Wednesday evening Lia went to bed in despair. The gown she had so assiduously sewn for many days was ruined. It bore the unmistakable and hopeless look of a maternity dress. On Saturday morning she actually finished the dress and was in ecstasy. It was perfect—a miraculous incarnation of sartorial wonder. And CFA has the pictures to prove it.

Julia had her final creative movement session this morning. Justin felt a bit self-conscious carrying around the latest issue of The Economist, the cover of which bears an animated image of a fiery dragon and carries the headline “Angry China,” in the company of all the other parents, Asians to a mom. Halfway through the class Julia dismissed Justin to go read in the hall (children, it seems, become embarrassed at the nerddom of their parents at increasingly early ages).

In the evening, Justin and Lia went to Anthony’s Ocean View for the end-of-year Yale Law Journal banquet. The setting was garish and kitschy—Sarah Clayton compared it to something out of “The Golden Girls”—complete with floral carpet and tasteless chandeliers. When the DJ in our hall mercifully stopped the record-player, the DJ next door (where a ‘50s reunion of sorts was taking place) seemed to crank up the volume, and the deafening, immortal tones of “Jailhouse Rock” came rumbling through the wall as U.S. Attorney General Michael Mukasey (YLS ’67) stood to address the YLJ editors and their consorts. The food left much to be desired, though Lia confessed she usually loves any meal she doesn’t have to make (with the obvious exception of food Justin makes).

But Mr. Mukasey himself was magnificent. He spoke for about fifteen minutes, fourteen-and-a-half of which was devoted to a brilliant skewering of the stuffy pretension—to an unsparing exposition of the mighty triviality—of the world of student-edited law journals. The Yalies rolled in the aisles. The Attorney General was well worth the price of admission (free for Justin; $30 for Lia; considerably more for the dress materials, though this paled in comparison to what it costs to buy a new dress). Justin and Lia left early, skipping out on the dancing—even though Lia had seen a couple of Justin’s finest moves beforehand—and drinking. [Photo note: "Real princess gloves" from Jini in Germany. A little birthday envelope arrived for me and Eli. Caci also sent a little birthday package for the same recipients, but we're holding pictures of the contents until I exchange either the 18-24 months or the 2T very adorable pink skirts. For those uninitiated into the mysteries of children's clothing, those amount to about the same size.]

Still a favorite pasttime.

Justin thinks the girls clean up so well, he takes a picture just about every Sunday morning. Which is cuter, the girls, or Justin thinking they're so cute?

We're taking a vote. I'm tired of being told I look like I'm 19, and could think of only two viable options for remedying the situation: wearing pearl studs (thus getting my ears pierced) or changing my entire wardrobe. Since option A would be so much cheaper, I'm rooting for that, but Justin is against the idea. So, do you, faithful reader, think I look older in this picture? (My very clever sister Caci instructed us at Christmas on the ease and utility of converting normal earrings to clip-on ones. That's what these are.) Do you think it's time I join the ranks of the classically elegant women in the world and get some pearls? Even if they will necessarily be paired with my 10th grade jeans?