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A day since the jab and no major ill effects. My arm hurt quite a bit at the site of the shot when I got up this morning, but that's down to a dull roar. We're not going anywhere or having anybody for the occasion, so we got decent geezer naps in, which helped with the feeling of general malaise from the boost. Not that the dog was much help with that: I swear, whoever named her "Pepper" did it as a short form of “perpendicular” because she always bogarts the bed by lying 90 degrees straight across where you want to be.

The holiday has brought one new thing and a continuation of a long-standing tradition for me. "New" is really nothing new, since, as I mentioned last time, I simply brainfarted on the total number of credits I needed to accumulate in the process I've been describing here over the past few weeks.
The four categories of CLE we are required to cover every two years are:
Areas of Professional Practice
Diversity, Inclusion and Elimination of Bias
Ethics
Law Practice Management
Skills
You'll note that "math" is not included among those.
After finishing my final two hour ethics binge the other day, I set out to fill out my forms... and I was four hours short. But no matter. On demand is everywhere. I just needed to find one for four hours worth I could watch on and off over these next two "days off" to finish the job.
Here's what I found:

I was wondering what the codes they would embed- the ones they make us put on our credit applications to prove we actually paid attention. Alas, the first of four was utterly boring. The material, not so much. In just the first half hour, I learned that there are already Netflix shows focusing on Cooking with Cannabis that the retailers will be exploring.
Mark the tape: I hereby claim all rights to "The Great British Toke-Off."
----
Then there's the tradition that continues.
I'd long known about Arlo Guthrie's legendary song "Alice's Restaurant" and its obvious Thanksgiving connection. I learned every word of the song in high school and can still speak more than sing along with it verbatim. I copied vinyl of it from the East Meadow library onto a cassette, acquired my own copy of the album in college, watched it melt in a law school trunk, and finally got the CD of it which we still have. But it was on arrival in Rochester that listening to it at noon on Thanksgiving, on the city's longtime and still-going classic rock station, became a part of my day whenever I was within the sound of Dave Kane's voice.
That was most years. Skipping my first when I went on a horrid plane trip, an early one or two where we traveled to family, and a few in pre-Internet radio days when WCMF was just out of range, I always found time to turn on the stereo, or the car audio, or now the phone, to hear Dave's opening remarks, the full playing of the Masacree, and his signoff. It's my Macy's parade, my Lions/Cowboys football showdown, my fight with Fox News Uncle Harold over what he's been consuming away from the table.
And it only takes a little over 18 minutes:)
At least one year before CMF went online, I left the house around 11:30 and drove east to see if I could find the signal; 96.5 came in, free of interference from the local 97 Rock, in the empty parking lot of the Eastern Hills Mall. For a few recent years, it became the bookend of my Turkey Trot experience. I'd set my slow foot on Delaware Avenue pavement just past 9, arrive at the afterparty sometime after 10, take the bus back to the starting-line parking at 11-something, and listen to Alice as I drove home. (I signed up and didn't go in 2019, begged out of the virtual one last year, and didn't even consider doing it back live this year with COVIDiots being way too big a cohort around here right now.
Then, this spring, Dave retired. He got a final show, his successors retained some of his best bits, but the station was silent on whether he would be returning for his 41st year (and my 30-somethingth) of hosting the broadcast. Then, last week, came the clues. Photos and mentions on his Facebook page- of Alice, and Alice, and even that Alice! All followed by the big reveal- there'd be no cries of DAVE'S NOT HERE! at Thanksgiving this year!
I set a timer to stop my weed study. Then Eleanor asked for help cleaning the fridge. Gawd, it needed it. I put down my papers- NOTES, people!- and spent the entire length of the song with Arlo in my ear and Greased Lightning on my sponge. I guess it was fitting to clean a fridge while listening to a classic song about a restaurant.
It looks much better in there. And Thanksgiving feels much better in hereā¤
----

The holiday has brought one new thing and a continuation of a long-standing tradition for me. "New" is really nothing new, since, as I mentioned last time, I simply brainfarted on the total number of credits I needed to accumulate in the process I've been describing here over the past few weeks.
The four categories of CLE we are required to cover every two years are:
Areas of Professional Practice
Diversity, Inclusion and Elimination of Bias
Ethics
Law Practice Management
Skills
You'll note that "math" is not included among those.
After finishing my final two hour ethics binge the other day, I set out to fill out my forms... and I was four hours short. But no matter. On demand is everywhere. I just needed to find one for four hours worth I could watch on and off over these next two "days off" to finish the job.
Here's what I found:

I was wondering what the codes they would embed- the ones they make us put on our credit applications to prove we actually paid attention. Alas, the first of four was utterly boring. The material, not so much. In just the first half hour, I learned that there are already Netflix shows focusing on Cooking with Cannabis that the retailers will be exploring.
Mark the tape: I hereby claim all rights to "The Great British Toke-Off."
----
Then there's the tradition that continues.
I'd long known about Arlo Guthrie's legendary song "Alice's Restaurant" and its obvious Thanksgiving connection. I learned every word of the song in high school and can still speak more than sing along with it verbatim. I copied vinyl of it from the East Meadow library onto a cassette, acquired my own copy of the album in college, watched it melt in a law school trunk, and finally got the CD of it which we still have. But it was on arrival in Rochester that listening to it at noon on Thanksgiving, on the city's longtime and still-going classic rock station, became a part of my day whenever I was within the sound of Dave Kane's voice.
That was most years. Skipping my first when I went on a horrid plane trip, an early one or two where we traveled to family, and a few in pre-Internet radio days when WCMF was just out of range, I always found time to turn on the stereo, or the car audio, or now the phone, to hear Dave's opening remarks, the full playing of the Masacree, and his signoff. It's my Macy's parade, my Lions/Cowboys football showdown, my fight with Fox News Uncle Harold over what he's been consuming away from the table.
And it only takes a little over 18 minutes:)
At least one year before CMF went online, I left the house around 11:30 and drove east to see if I could find the signal; 96.5 came in, free of interference from the local 97 Rock, in the empty parking lot of the Eastern Hills Mall. For a few recent years, it became the bookend of my Turkey Trot experience. I'd set my slow foot on Delaware Avenue pavement just past 9, arrive at the afterparty sometime after 10, take the bus back to the starting-line parking at 11-something, and listen to Alice as I drove home. (I signed up and didn't go in 2019, begged out of the virtual one last year, and didn't even consider doing it back live this year with COVIDiots being way too big a cohort around here right now.
Then, this spring, Dave retired. He got a final show, his successors retained some of his best bits, but the station was silent on whether he would be returning for his 41st year (and my 30-somethingth) of hosting the broadcast. Then, last week, came the clues. Photos and mentions on his Facebook page- of Alice, and Alice, and even that Alice! All followed by the big reveal- there'd be no cries of DAVE'S NOT HERE! at Thanksgiving this year!
I set a timer to stop my weed study. Then Eleanor asked for help cleaning the fridge. Gawd, it needed it. I put down my papers- NOTES, people!- and spent the entire length of the song with Arlo in my ear and Greased Lightning on my sponge. I guess it was fitting to clean a fridge while listening to a classic song about a restaurant.
It looks much better in there. And Thanksgiving feels much better in hereā¤
----