The world of falling pants

What kind of underwear does a fashionable divorce lawyer wear nowdays? I'm trying my hardest not to let the world know, but one the side effects of my weight loss has been that none of my pants fit me well anymore. I gave a half hour legal argument, pacing back and forth with one hand holding up my slacks.

And, yet, despite the weight loss, I'm still to heavy to be able to use my old belts. Time to hit amazon for an in-between belt.

This is progress, right?

Court has been going very well recently. I'm in a rhythm heading into a few weeks of big contested cases. Estolano Law is doing well also. I've brought my paralegal Joe in full time and he's made a huge difference. I was sitting at my desk going over police reports and had a nagging feeling that there was someone that I should have been calling back, but it was a false feeling. Joe had everything under control!

So, I'm off to a healthy dinner with my buddy (and perhaps my wife). Another week of this and maybe I'll get the tailor to actually tighten the waistline of the pants a bit.

So, what underwear does the fashionable divorce lawyer wear? Whatever kind his wife buys for him!

The world looks blurry from up close!

The symptom that finally sent me running to the doctor was blurred vision. I managed two weeks of frequent bathroom trips and ignored it when my water began to taste metallic, but when I went through three days of vision so distorted that I couldn't make out a wall calendar or distant freeway signs, it scared me sufficiently to visit the urgent care facility.

After a few days of medication, the blurriness went away. For awhile. Now, it's returned with a vengeance, but with a twist. Before, things that I saw in the distance were blurry. Now, my vision up close is blurry. I have difficulty reading anything that is a few inches away from my face (though this large computer screen, a couple feet away is OK). During lunch today, I struggled to set the time on my father's watch because I couldn't read the print on the buttons.

This is apparently a natural phenomenon for diabetes as my eyes snap back into shape with a decreasing blood sugar level.

But, it feels strange to not be able read a book in comfort.

The Big D

I was diagnosed with diabetes on March 11, 2010 after I struggled through three blurry vision days in court. I could barely see the huge calendar on the court wall, but struggled through several hearings. Justice may not have been blind, but this attorney almost was!

I'll blog further on it as time permits- but for now let me just say that diabetes is truly life altering when it comes to your diet.

As of this weekend, I had lost about 10 pounds since my diagnosis and am eating less than ever before in my life as I adapt to this new reality.

My closest friends, as always in a crisis, have been there for me. They've worked out with me, listened to my venting sessions and have generally helped me through this.

My family, those who know, have also been great. My brother Carlos, as usual, is my irritable confidant (you'd be irritable too, if you had to listen to "unfiltered" Ray). My mother has offered her usual mix of intelligent reasoning and crackpot medical theories (diabetic tea and the such..). And my wife has been mostly patient at eating her meals with a mad man who looks at the corn bread on her plate as if it were a long lost love.

Ah, cornbread, I remember you when...

A night with Culture Clash

It's funny how life takes you down different paths and it's interesting to think about who you could have been. Last night, I watched a Chicano acting group named Culture Clash put on a series of skits about what it means to be American. The last time I'd seen the group perform was at UC Berkeley as an undergrad. At the time, I played around with the idea of trying out for a similar group. My girlfriend at the time was all for it.

"You make people laugh. I think you'd be a natural for it."

"I think people would be laughing at me, not with me. And I haven't acted since high school," I said, but I remained tempted by the idea. I made a mental note to look into the try out.

"Just don't let them know you voted for Reagan!" she added sarcastically. It wasn't true that I'd voted for Reagan(I was 13!), but having grown up in a small family business I did tend to be a bit more conservative than my friends.

As a student at Berkeley, I was drawn to the provocative and enjoyed watching a theater that made me think about society. I've always like to have my opinions challenged. I also loved the idea of possibly being a part of something similar to Culture Clash, but I ended up involved in local politics and never followed up on the acting.

Some eighteen years later, I remembered this as I walked into the theater to see Culture Clash.

An interminable two hours later, I found myself wishing that anyone but the actors on stage had tried out for Culture Clash. Their performance was, to say the least, less than provocative. One bit made fun of the different way that Latinos from different countries dance. Another bit, in the age of Will and Grace, made the shocking point that some Latinos are gay.

I was tempted to stick around for the 'question and answer' to ask where the revolution went. What happened to the radical guys that I watched in college?

I guess Culture Clash lost its bite as it's actors aged and got mortgages.

Maybe they would have been better off with a guy that voted for Reagan?

It's been awhile!

It feels like forever since I've posted a blog here. For the most part, I blame this on having been unusually busy- even for me. Sometimes you get so caught up in the moment that you lose time to reflect on the humorous qualities of life.

Here are some recent highlights:

1- My Nose Job- Unfortunately, this title doesn't mean that I now have a little dainty honker on my rather large cabeza or head. A little less than a month ago, a surgeon- after a few pleasantries- stuck a hot wire into both sides of my nose, burning and reducing a structure known as a turbinate, which had been enlarged since perhaps my amateur boxing days. "How do you feel," he asked as I sneezed a fine red mist of blood on my YMCA weight loss shirt. "Just peachy," I replied in a nasal voice that would make the next couple weeks of court interesting...

2- Back to the Weight Loss Challenge/A Random workout- Out of respect for my nose, the Torturer had me working out in doors. I raced up a treadmill with a 20 percent incline for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only ten minutes. The woman next to me in the elliptical machine was so impressed that she kept asking me for tips...okay, the tips were on her legal situation, but in any case I made it through the workout in flying colors. Red and blotchy pink as I recall...

3- Back to Law School- As I traded notes with a co-consul, I found out that our hearing was going to be in front of a visiting judge, who was none other than my former trial advocacy professor. This threw me into a state of mild shock, remembering how tough my teacher had been in law school. Still, I asked all the tough questions that I'd planned to ask and defended my client vigorously. At the end of the hearing the charges were dismissed. "A+++, counselor." My teacher graciously said... I replied in a still nasal voice "Thank you, your honor."

Cooking with Hitler- Part II

I returned from court on Wednesday to find an family email from my brother Carlos, aka Hitler. My brother was nicknamed Hitler by my childhood friends partly because he used to beat us up in order to play our video games. And while time has made Hitler much smaller than me, it has done little to mellow him.

"We will wait, first, for Ray to show up, and secondly, if he brings any ribs to enjoy them…" wrote Hitler. "I will make/bring enough chicken for us all in the event Ray runs out of time to get the spare ribs…" I could almost feel the lecture coming through the email- the youngest brother who is always missing family poker night, family dinner night, family bowling Sunday....might now leave his father without ribs!!!

Admittedly, I had been somewhat remiss in my family dinner obligations what with my absence during my jury trial. My past contributions, while tasty, had been courtesty of El Rancho Restaurant and the like. The last time I had cooked for the family had been... well, let's just say a little while.

So, I prepared early this time around. I marinated a couple racks each of pork and beef ribs. It's a simple marinade- some citrus juice, brown sugar and red chili form the base of my marinade with other spices added to taste. I stuff the ribs into a small plastic trash bag with the marinade and leave it overnight in the fridge.

I made a practice run of ribs and tri-tip in the morning for my house and left everything ready to cook after getting out of work.

Unfortunately, I didn't get out of work until close to 6pm. I rushed home, fired up the Orion, added some more rub to the ribs, tequilla to the cooker and beer to the chef. Then I ignored most of the phone calls that began arriving at around 7pm.

Hitler: "Are you planning on coming today or tomorrow?"

Mayra: "You know, we are kind of hungry and all there is this chicken Milanesa that Hitler made..."

My mother: This call I answered. She wanted to know how long it would take me to show up. I told it'd be another twenty minutes.

At 8:15 PM, I walked into my parent's house carrying 2 racks of pork ribs, 2 racks of beef ribs, and a selection of barbecue sauce.

Better late than never, right? I walked into my fair share of lectures, but once the family was eating all was forgiven. Hitler even gave me his recipe for chicken Milanesa- superthin chicken breast dipped in egg and breaded with a fancier version of shake and bake, then you fry it beyond recognition!

All in all, a good night at the family dinner.

The YMCA weight loss team and 24 suicides

This past Friday, the two teams in the weight loss competition got together for a challenge worthy of the Biggest Loser Show itself. We were assembled and told we were to be taken to room MP1.

"Multi Pizza Room," wondered Pamela. If only... We were taken to a room near the front of YMCA with multiple traffic cones assembled in a line.

"Run to the second cone, touch the ground, then run back to the first cone, touch the ground, then onto the second cone and so on...." instructed Carlos. "Once you are finished with the suicides, do ten squats."

The winner of the competition was to be the team that (1) remained standing when the time ran out and (2) completed the most cycles.

It was an exercise seemingly designed to be difficult for the overweight. Balance does not come easy when you are carrying a extra hundred pounds! Every time I ran and touched the floor, the momentum of my body almost made the rest of me hit the floor as well. And the squats made my legs feel like jelly.

But, not wanting to let down my team, I persevered and gave it my all. And when the bell rang ending the event, I was on my feet for at least a minute or two...

"27 suicides for the Transformers. 24 suicides for the Super Frogs." announced Carlos.

My team had lost. But as we walked out of the MP1 room, I glanced at the wall mirror. If I squinted just right, I could see a skinnier me.

Just a matter of time...