The sputtering of a CPR patient finally drawing a ragged breath

April-to June sure doesn't feel like that long a time in the grand scheme of things, but nevertheless I find myself under a rather altered set of circumstances from my last posting. Or even from my last year of posting, hampered as it was by the snooty "no blogs" policy of the job's Web Portal sentinels. Instead of trotting out some Faulkner-eske paragraphs on what the hell is going on, let's just try some simple bullet points.

- I quit the law firm. Paralegaling is for people who keep organized and like to work late, I decided after a year and a half.

- I'm taking chemistry at Pace U., taught by a wild, tenured, heavily greek-accented professor who paired me up in lab with an 18 year old Princeton engineer who pounds red bull and will burn out within the next 18 months and a nice-seeming orthodox jewish guy with a big beard, a withered right arm and a notable limp. I carry the beakers.

- I am tending to a balcony garden of a dozen geraniums, one tomato plant, and an amarillus. I wanted a dog, but plants don't shit on your floor or get you arrested for cruelty/abandonment charges- I sometimes forget to give myself water.

- I have a car in the city, the family Town & Country set to be retired to a summer life on Martha's Vineyard but running one last tour of duty. I'm currently at #322 on a waiting list of 450 for a parking spot in my Co-op's lot. So I get to deal with alternate side regulations. And yes, assaulting a traffic attendant in the state of New York is a felony.

- I'm a paid-dues member of the World Adult Kickball Association (WAKA), playing on the Cheetos with the first game this thursday at 7:30pm on Central Park Field #3. If you're passing 62nd street, be warned.