lawyers, guns, and money

The oldest partner in my law firm is 76. He is very kind and he laughs a lot and he once saw me pour non-dairy creamer on a grapefruit and didn't say anything about it. He wears moccasins to the office and calls me "kiddo." He has also, on multiple occasions, offered to bail me out of jail should the need ever arise.

Today, it was my job to collect signatures from attorneys in my firm, if those attorneys wanted to be re-authorized to visit clients at the county jail. The moccasin-wearer joked that at this point in his career, he probably wouldn't be found at the jail unless he was an involuntary guest. As I left his office I offered, as he has many times to me, to post his bail if that happened. He nodded slowly, looked to the side, and sat quietly for a moment.

"Don't worry about bail, kiddo. If I go in, it'll be for something big."

Cold. Bonecrushing Cold.

The temperature over the past couple of days has been hovering between -20 and -5 degrees. I have been wearing these gloves, which have been met with some resistance. Troy audibly groaned when I put them on as we were leaving a restaurant. Brad hid his face because he was embarassed to even be near someone who would wear something so horrible. Travis told me that I looked like a bird handler waiting for an eagle to land on my hand and dig into me with its talons.I am freeeezing. But my hands are warm.

"Time for the weather report. It's cold out, folks. Bonecrushing cold. The kind of cold which will wrench the spirit out of a young man, or forge it into steel." -Northern Exposure, 1992