I am woman. Hear me roar...

My boss has exactly 19 more work days to ask what I have coming for the weekend. After that, I'm going to law school.

"Anonymous" posted this link in the comments of a previous post: shimmygurrshimmy.blogspot.com.

Whoever you are: THANK YOU.

Why am I gushing about another blogger with such fervor? Because it gave me a glimmer of hope in the face of despair. "Enjoy life now because you never will again," is just about the only advice law school admissions staff, current law school students and law school spouses have offered. The possibilities of planning a wedding, having a baby or just catching a movie once in a while while slaying the law school dragon were described as complete impossibilities. Now: hope. Hope it's possible to survive law school with your faith, family and sense of fun still in tact.

Here's the proof: After three years of a Provo-based education this blogger is still capable of saying "Hell, yeah" when something is good. She wasn't murdered or tortured by BYU staff for being non-Republican. I like knowing I might come out of three years at BYU and still not know how to scrapbook, play Bunco or put vinyl phrases onto painted craft boards. Scary. I love knowing I could come out with a rocking education, a fantastic relationship, fabulous communication skills and still have a sense of humor. Awesome.

I left feeling energized because let's be honest, the world currently expects a LOT out of us women. As Natalie points out in her post about "The Second Shift," the women's liberation movement gave us more options. But it also gave us more to do. We must be mothers, teachers, chefs, decorators, lawyers, doctors, triathletes and we must do it all well and all at the same time. And then, in all our spare minutes we're supposed to blog about it. Sometimes, I get overwhelmed and I haven't even taken on half of the womanly roles I hope to yet.

So this post and in particular, this tongue-in-cheek response to a Debbie-Downer, was a nice reminder I've got it pretty good, too -- even if I am headed to law school:

(You know, I DO have a really hard life...you know, a champion husband, a healthy body, a supportive fam, a great education, a place to live, decent insurance,
etc....WHOA. Now that I think about it, no one has ever had a baby in harder circumstances. WHAT AM I THINKING???)

My friend Johanna is one of my heroes. We served as mission companions and I've never met anyone so capable of love. She is smart, she is tough and she is going to medical school. Andrea's headed to grad school. Amy is rocking it as a mother. Raquel is teaching and coaching high school students. Kristen's tearing it up in D.C. Emilie's the youngest editor I've ever met. Natalie is rocking the GMAT this weekend. I have amazing, capable, incredible friends who are touching and improving many, many lives. Which is why this post about LDS General Relief Society President Julie B. Beck meant so much to me. This entry reminded me how much I LOVE being a woman in today's world; how much I love being a woman who is also LDS. My generation may be the most privileged group of women to ever live. Ever. Seriously, ladies ... how lucky are we? Temple covenants? Check. Rocking educations and the right to vote? Check. Check. Clean drinking water? Check.

Yup. We've got it all.

On magic ...

Chocolate mixed with chocolate, doused in chocolate and then sprinkled with more chocolate.

If you've never ordered a chocolate milkshake from Chili's then stop reading this and go do so RIGHT. NOW.

Seriously, why are you still here?? I know ... Chili's doesn't seem like the most likely place for life-changing-milkshakes, but I assure you it is.

Life-changing.

GO!!!

On preparation ...

The law school letter I received told me to look up the definition of and then "ponder and apply the word 'recreation.'" Unless I do this, the letter warns, my "reservoir will [not] be filled" and I will be left drained and incapable of surviving my first semester. (Reservoir, ponder and apply -- anyone still unsure which Utah law school I picked?) So I've been pondering. And doing a heck of a job to try to apply.

• rec/re/a/tion -- refreshment by means of some pastime, agreeable exercise, or the like.

Turns out the above is a lot easier to "apply in our daily lives" than faith, hope or charity. So far I've gotten a pedicure, gone out to eat and gone swimming. Any other ideas? Or have I interpreted this wrong and I'm headed down some dark road of law school apostasy? Kind of like when this friend thought the Biblical story of the widow's mite was referring to a bug. Don't worry, a companion set her straight before she taught the good people of Tennessee it was OK to pay tithing with small insects.

Who knew going to a church school would be so much fun already?

Suggestions for recreating, favorite scripture verses on enduring to the end and advice on surviving three years in Utah County welcome.

Samisms

Me: Thanks so much for doing that for me, Sam!

Sam (bows gracefully): It was my pleasure. (kisses my hand)

------

Dad: Sam, why on earth did you change back into your pajamas??

Sam (long, heavy sigh): It's a long story.

----

Sam: I think dad's a fat leprechaun.

(Alex chuckles and goes back to what he's doing. Sam continues to giggle.)

Sam (walking away): Fat leprechaun ... I crack myself up.

On the wistfulness of youth ...

The black top was as empty as the hope in his eyes.

Two girls played on a tire swing in the distance -- the only remaining evidence from the school day.

"They didn't build it for me," he sighed. "I realized this isn't for me anymore."

His eyes scanned the emerald grass of the baseball field as if searching for his lost childhood.

"It's just hard, you know?" the young man continued. "One day it's all OK and then the next ... it's just over. You have to grow up."

He kicked a rock, sending it scuttling across the lonely pavement. The distant whistle of a soccer referee broke through the silence like so many memories of sun-filled glory days.

"There's all this responsibility. All these expectations. A year ago it was different. I was still a kid," he said. "Now ... now I just don't know."

Last year wasting time came without reproach, he says. Decisions came without last consequences. Freedom came without a price. You could freely choose your course in the name of "finding yourself." People looked at your nomadic lifestyle with envy instead of disdain, shaking their heads, thinking "Oh, to be young" and smiling because of all the potential ahead of you. You could even play video games.

"But you don't even like video games," I remind him.

It doesn't matter, he says. It's the principle of the thing. This birthday is pivotal, he reminds me. It means the final abandonment of childish things and facing a world no longer offering forgiveness based on youth.

Yes, I think. It is hard to turn 24.

The early twenties are over and the mid-twenties loom ahead like the staggering Everest his neighbor has climbed more times than years he has been alive. Because surely, with the addition of one extra candle, comes the expectations to be stable, productive and the absence of all things light, happy and free. There will be no more smiling. No more laughing. No more traveling or exploration or learning. No more swingsets or blacktops or soccer fields. Ever.

Such privileges only belong to those who are 23.

No, my friend. There are only bills and timecards and paychecks. Only mortgages and 401Ks and car repairs to urge you out of bed in the morning. The rat race has begun and you're only one more furry mass in search of the cheese. Recess is over and the eternal final exam has begun.

Happy Birthday.