MORNING WHINE

     First, the good news: my alltime blog hit count has now passed 10,000!  That's ten thousand separate views of any one of my posts, and honestly, very few of those were from me.  Is that not awesome?  I find it incredibly awesome!  Of course, if you break down almost two and a half years of blogging it adds up to close to 1,000 total days, but I didn't blog every day, now did I?  Not even close.  In fact, I have posted a total of 206 times, which means an average of about 50 hits per post, so - like I said.  AWESOME.
     Now: the promised whining.  This may help to explain why I haven't posted since completing (successfully, I might add) the A to Z Challenge, in case anyone has been asking him/herself: I wonder why she hasn't been posting since her successful completion of the A to Z Challenge?  Well, wonder no more, because I'm about to tell you.
     I'm a writer.  But I also have a day job, or more specifically, a day career.  I'm an appellate lawyer, and I've been doing that for a very long time, so most of the time I can handle it with a minimum of angst, although I wouldn't go so far as to use the word aplomb.  But most of the time, I'm fine.  However, this coming Monday and Tuesday, I have back-to-back oral arguments before my state Supreme Court (which is, as you might guess, the highest appellate tier in the state court system).  I have argued a whole bunch of times (25? 30? more? I don't keep an exact count) before this Court, but never once have I had to prepare to argue two different cases on two successive days.  Reader:  for the last week, I have been a quivering lump of anxiety.
     In case you've never argued a case before a state Supreme Court, and are curious to know what it's like, I will describe it to you.  The Justices sit in front of you at a long bench.  You stand at a podium in front of them.  You begin to speak, trying to put your best foot forward and eloquently sum up your position.  Two sentences in, you are interrupted by a question from the bench.  You stop in
mid-syllable, pivot on a dime, and try to answer the question.  That Justice may then have a follow-up question, or two, or three, but at some point, when it's quiet for a few seconds, you try to get back to your planned spiel.  One sentence later, a different Justice interrupts you with a completely different question, from a completely different angle.  Stop, pivot, answer.  This process continues more or less forever.  It is over, not when you've finished saying everything you want to say, but when all of the Justices run out of questions.  Are you getting the picture here? 
     Oh, and I should add that they don't want to know just about your piddly little case.  Oh, no, that would be too easy!  It's their job to make the law for the whole state, so what they really want to know is where you're asking them to draw lines.  And the best way for them to find that out is by asking you hypothetical questions, spinning out your arguments far past the point of absurdity to see where it is that you crack.  What if the events hadn't happened in that order, but in a different order?  What if this factor was removed, and this other factor added?  What if, what if, what if????
     I suppose there are some people that find this process exhilarating.  I must admit, I kind of do, when I only have ONE case - it sure gets the adrenaline pumping.  BUT NOT IF YOU HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN THE NEXT DAY WITH A DIFFERENT CASE!  That's when it begins to veer into the realm of torture, and I'm not a big fan of torture, especially not if it's happening to me.
     Okay!  Done whining!  Whew, I feel better.  Thanks for listening.  Now, back to work!