A couple of years ago, I wrote a letter to Warren Brown, owner and proprietor of Cake Love. I'd just passed the Wisconsin bar, after a long ordeal of difficulties with the exam. Then came the job search. I must have been sending out ten resumes a week. Sitting before the television, with the food network on mute and the lap top buzzing away with clickity clicks of my key board, I was struggling. I remember the bright sunlight of the morning, the feeling that I had encountered an invisible wall of discrimination and in the background, foodnetwork's new show about cooks who had changed profession. Warren Brown was on, demonstrating his process for making german chocolate cake and strawberry shortcakes. Cake? My brain switched from lawyer to baker and I turned off the mute button. I heard Mr. Brown tell his story about his prior life as an attorney. I wondered how long he'd been practicing for. The cakes were delicious and he explained how he too had struggled to realize his passions in life. He seemed so happy and passionate about baking cake. This was the inspiration behind the name of his bakery, "Cake Love". The name continues to inspire me to find that kind of love in my career. The tears begin to fall uncontrollably from all the frustrations I had encountered since I'd moved to Wisconsin. I was moved to meet another person who had been where I was then, found his truth and changed his destiny. I was desperate to know what my destiny was but the timing was not ripe yet. So I wrote a long emotional letter to Warren Brown thanking him for sharing his inspirational story. A little over a year later, over New Years Eve, I received a letter from Mr. Brown of Cake Love. A really awesome warm and encouraging card reminding me where the light is. I hang it over my refridgerator, tangible proof of accomplishment and bravery.

tick-tock

I've been living the Howard Hughes life these past few months. Pure isolation. Just not worth getting out of the house and wasting time. It feels like I am waiting for something big to happen but time keeps on dragging. Each day I check the mail for a letter from the PTO with my registration information. But no mail in sight. So it's patent exam limbo land till whenever. Ugghh. Meanwhile, other things are going on that weighs on my heart and mind. My profession gives me a heavy heart and makes me wonder if it's even healthy for me. Compassion fatigue is the new classification for what many family lawyers go through. I just want to invent the next toothpick - floss, make a few million dollars and retire. Switch tracks. Clear the slate. I think that this will be the last case I'll have on my plate for a while. Right now, all I want to do is to go to quiet church and be anonymous with God. However, the blood sucking Lutheran churches in this town stress me out and they all have contact lists. Guess it'll just be the computer and more work and more waiting. Nothing worse than waiting. Why didn't I become a pharmacist?