Amy Shelf - Counselor at Law

The amount of work I get done in the last hour or two of my work day is impressive.  Or perhaps it is actually pathetic; it is often markedly different than the level of productivity I exhibit during the rest of the day.

I would feel more self-critical about being most productive in the last hour of my work day if my work habits weren't really similar to those of highly compensated athletes. Think of those fourth quarter - two minute warning - bottom of the ninth experiences.  Who is to say those moments are much different than me kicking into high gear at 3pm after spending too much time on facebook and craigslist?

Recently, I've had a few conversations about productivity.  Colleagues are feeling overwhelmed by the pressures to do something to revive slow law practices.  Business owners spin their wheels trying to find new ways to make a profit.  Spouses feel helpless and unable to do enough to keep their families secure.  Often our conversations are about how we feel stuck, unable to be productive and get things done.  We end up going to the gym, going to the grocery store, having conversations with people at the grocery store, etc. instead of getting something done.

When I had been practicing as an attorney for just a few weeks, one of the partners at my law firm paid me a visit.  We were chit chatting about whatever, and I mentioned how I was adjusting - not smoothly - to timekeeping.  It was the first time I'd ever been involved with billing my time, and I was WAY too involved in the machinations of my little desk-top timer thingy - a widget (not sure if I'm using that term correctly) that allowed me to set up separate timers for each client, and then click the stop and start buttons to keep track of the time I was spending working on any particular client's matter.  I was telling this partner about how I was diligently stopping the timer when I got up to go to the bathroom or to get my lunch from the fridge or to reply "yum" to my husband's email telling me about dinner, then starting it again when I returned to my desk or my document.

She (the partner) told me I was going about it all wrong.  She asked, "Do you stop thinking about your work as soon as you get up from your desk and walk to the bathroom?  Are you not thinking about what you were writing when you are washing your hands?"  (OK, I didn't mention the email to my husband.)

The honest answers to her questions were, "sometimes" and, "sometimes."  But her point is well taken, even if her point was directed more toward billing hours than it was toward a holistic understanding of what it means to work and be productive.

Those things we do when we aren't being productive - I don't necessarily mean craigslist and facebook, but the staring out the window, the organizing the desk, the netherworld where time disappears, and maybe even craigslist and facebook (to a small degree) - I believe that is largely productive work. 

I can't reference any studies or really even speak articulately about how it all works, but, from my own experience, I know I need time in between active time and down time, I think of it as strolling time.   I used to think I was just poorly focused, and maybe focus is not my strong point, but there is a brain space where things are jumbled, where the to-do list gets mushed up and everything is swirling around without clear priority or order that has demonstrated its value empirically.  I am not resting, my mind is still on work, though it is on other things too.  In this space I stroll, picking things up and putting things down and seemingly not getting anything done. 

I know I am a productive person - look at my friggin' life!   Working backwards from that truth, my strolls must support my produ.  I am most certainly not resting, but I am stretching my legs, mentally and sometimes physically.  I am getting a grip, emotionally (a highly underrated component of productivity, I think.)  I am letting go of the order of things, of a sequence of tasks and, hopefully, I am inviting creativity and insight.

Then I am ready to kick ass in the fourth quarter.

Today is earth day.  I remember my first awareness of earth day.  Back in the late 80's, I was in college in New York City.  There was a huge concert in Central Park that left many of us feeling inspired and awakened.  The event also left the park trashed.   Literally.

There continue to be many levels of irony in earth day and the way it is celebrated.  Seems to me that it would be more meaningful if we all gave ourselves one day to completely trash the earth, and then every other day becomes a day of conservation and awareness.  On earth day you should use disposables, let the water run, keep the lights on, drive to the corner store, get it out of your system.  Then the other 364 days of the year you live responsibly.  I like that balance a bit better than merely having a single day devoted to awareness of our shrinking resources and irreplaceable habitats, with the rest of the year . . . what?  Un-earth day?

Alas, I have not yet started the movement dedicated to reversing the way we celebrate earth day (and the rest of the year).  So I won't trash the earth today, and I'll do my best to reduce, reuse and recycle.  Day in and day out.

It is difficult for me (and for all - or most - of us) to separate ourselves from a feeling of crisis right now.  This plays into earth day, of course.  Environmentally, the momentum is increasing simultaneously in the right direction and the wrong direction.  But whether you are seeing the positive change or the downward spiral, the stakes are epic.  The current economic crisis (god, I am getting to HATE that phrase) has thrown a big ol' wrench into the work of environmentalists and conservationists - public sentiment was supporting a shift of resources and a dedication to green products until none of us had any disposable income.  Ultimately, it seems, the state of the world economy may really benefit conservation efforts insofar as many of us are more open to a completely new paradigm.  Maybe we've jumped past the debate between traditional automobiles and hybrid cars, or past the focus on buying green products, and we're finally talking about not driving and not consuming so fucking much

A few months ago, when the banks were failing and foreclosures were rippling through communities like the common cold and it was all anyone talked about, I had a moment of pure envy for a cliff. 

I was driving home after finishing a weird business meeting of questionable promise.  I had driven too far, and taken too much time out of my work day, to go to this weird meeting, and the whole prospect of trying to make a living felt shaky and depressing. 

My meeting was in Marin County, and, coming back to San Francisco, I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge .  It is easy to be awestruck at that spot - it is a place of enormous natural beauty.  Plus the iconic bridge and picturesque city.  Monumentally gorgeous.  Often, the drive across the bridge fills me with such gratitude for where I live, and for life as I know it.  That day, however, when I looked to the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the mouth of the bay, I was filled with jealousy.  The cliffs have it easy.  Yes, they are forced to endure wind and cold and fog, but they are not worried about money.  Or war.  Society as we know it can collapse, but the cliffs will remain.  Even if an earthquake or natural disaster takes the cliffs down, they will not feel pain but will continue to exist as dirt and rocks.  They do not feel fear and do not fear death.  If only I could say the same for myself.

I wished, at that moment, that I could enjoy the cliffs' freedom from fear, freedom from economic vulnerability, and, even, freedom from consciousness. 

Of course I would not really trade my life as a human for existence as a geological fixture, but some wisdom from that moment has stayed with me.   Somehow, in my jealousy, I caught a wafting awareness of the act simply being, of standing against forces much stronger than myself or my mind, of letting wind or fog or bankruptcy or hunger beat themselves against my edges and, ultimately, not fearing whether I stand or fall, knowing that if I fall, I will remain rocks and dirt but in a different form.

The funny thing is that I really believe in the corporeal, in its importance and wisdom.  The key, I think, to making that a livable philosophy is in seeing its context.  Fundamentally, this life, this time here, is the most important thing because now is the only time for it.  The afterworld, the energetic level of existence, whatever - that shit is timeless.  But the here and now - well, they don't call it the here and now for nothing.  However, as much as it matters, right here and right now, it is over when it is over.  Not much we can do about that.

This is what the cliff instructs: I am only this cliff, I am only here (can't be in two places at once!), I am here to endure. 

Fuck, if it were only that easy.

I value this planet, and I will act and vote and speak with my mind and heart committed to not destroying it.  I am not a cliff - I do have consciousness, and I can do more than just endure.  But today - this earth day - I will let the cliffs be my teachers, and, in so doing, I will learn something about how to be very grounded. 

I don't usually write about anything actually LAW related here, but today is different.  I don't usually preach about getting your estate planning in order - I understand, completely, how difficult it is to get this stuff done.  Again, today is different.  This post is written with a supremely huge amount of compassion, but also with a clear direction: get the basics in place.

An old friend called recently.  Her brother suffered an unexpected injury and is now hospitalized.  He is in the midst of breaking up with his wife, owns a house, has student loans and other bills to pay, and had absolutely nothing in place, legally.  Things have not been going smoothly, medically or financially.  He is recovering slowly and his capacity to sign legal documents or make his own medical decisions is questionable.   Unfortunately, the family is now faced with some unpleasant and expensive prospects for helping this man deal with his life and finances, both of which continue while he is hospitalized.

The situation described above could be helped, GREATLY helped, if my friend's brother had basic financial Powers of Attorney and an advance health care directive in place.    By executing financial Powers of Attorney (often called Durable Powers of Attorney) you give someone the authority to manage your financial affairs if you are unable.  Similarly, with an Advance Health Care Directive you give someone the authority to make medical decisions for you in the event you are unable to make them for yourself.

Many people assume that spouses (or, in California, registered domestic partners) have rights to act for one another, that if you are married or registered domestic partners you have less need for a Power of Attorney or a Medical Directive.  In a number of respects, your spouse or registered domestic partner can do things on your behalf without an official, legal document in place.  Similarly, physicians or heath care providers will often respect the wishes and follow the directions of family members who are present and involved, and where there is no conflict or disagreement, even without an advance directive.

However, HOWEVER, even in the best situations there are things that cannot be done without a Power of Attorney or a court order.  Selling or mortgaging a house.  For one.  And that is usually the biggest one. 

Without a Power of Attorney, the only other option can be going to court to get order appointing an agent or authorizing a particular action.  Expensive and a lot of time and work.

I am reluctant - as an attorney - to invoke scare tactics.  In any event, I could present you with way worse in the worst-case-scenario department of things that can go wrong in the world of death and incapacity.  So think of this story not with a "you should do this or else such-and-such can happen" moral but as a reminder of how little it takes sometimes to avoid a big problem with more problems and no easy solutions, and to get yourself and your loved ones squarely into the world of simply big problems.  Quite the lesser of two evils.

We cannot avoid big problems.  We cannot ever sufficiently prepare for them legally, financially and emotionally all at once.  We can, however, take very simple steps to do damage control, to put in place the most basic of safety nets, to have those backstops in place. 

I talk to many people who avoid any sort of estate planning because the enormity of all of the decisions that we need to make when we put together a complete and customized plan.  And then there is all of the follow up to do - life insurance, retirement beneficiary designations, the difficult conversations.  It is too much!  So I invite you all to take baby steps.  Get three very simple documents in place - a Will, a Financial Power of Attorney, an Advance Health Care Directive.  Or start with one.  One is better than none.  Something is better than nothing. 

With my panic-free potlucks and workshops I can help you do all three with minimal time and cost.  Consider it the first step in completing the bigger project of having everything in place.

This is the first in a multi-part series.  A lifetime project.

Tonight I started making a delectable dinner.  It was one of those evenings where you can picture exactly the meal you are making and it is just what you want and you are stoked.    The early evening sun is making the kitchen bright, the kids have had a snack and are playing happily, the work day is done and you are going to eat fish tacos.   You even have cabbage and sour cream and they are going to be perfect!  Life is good.

So, there I am in my blissed out pre-taco state, cutting the fish into perfect sized pieces, and I see this maggot-like thing in the fish.  It is a small, light-brown, wormish creature.  Maybe a larva, maybe a maggot - maybe they are the same thing.  It wasn't gross, by appearance alone at least.  The maggot was still and clean, but it was pretty clearly some sort of creature - parasite, even - embedded in the flesh.   Not just sitting on top, but embedded.  The fish otherwise looked and smelled wonderfully fresh and tasty.

I went through the five stages of grief.  I swear. 

Denial: Maybe it is not a maggot, I thought.  I looked closer, hoping to discover that this was simply a discoloration in the flesh, like the dark red streaks near the spine.  Or maybe the fish had a knot in its muscle right there.  Maybe it is not a maggot.  Maybe.  Maybe?

Anger: Fuck! I realized it is so undeniably some sort of little larva or worm.  My goddamn fish tacos!  I was so pissed.  I can't feed my family fish infected with a parasite or worm.  Shit.
 
Bargaining:  OK - I actually had two pieces of fish.  I thought about just cooking the other one.  I looked at both of the pieces - the other one was larger and darker.  The maggot piece was smaller and whiter.  I was certain that they were not from the same fish  (Denial, again).  I could cook the maggot-free piece and just bring the other one back to the market.  I cut up the larger piece of fish, getting ready to bread it and fry it in oil, so that it was crispy and juicy and salty and perfect.  I took the other piece, the one with the maggot, and put it (now in pieces itself), along with the maggot, in a bag and I put the bag in the fridge. 

Depression:  I kept going back and  forth between the fish and everything else.  I was immobilized.  I had a plan.  I was cooking the other piece of fish.  It was not contaminated.  Why couldn't I just move forward?

Acceptance:  We were not having fish tacos.   It was so clear.  I can't cook my family fish in which I've SEEN a maggot.  I have some leftover brisket from passover.   I can chop it up, we'll have beef tacos.  Too bad.  I put all of the fish in a bag, and planned to take it back to the market.

The acceptance ultimately came from what I call the dumbass approach to making decisions.  If I fed the fish to my family and we all got sick?  I would feel like such a dumbass.   I saw the maggot in the fish and still decided to cook it and eat it?  Dumbass.

Without a doubt, I have eaten fish contaminated by way worse than a sweet little light-brown maggot.  I could easily have not seen it, or it could have been cut out by the butcher, and probably we all would have been fine.  Not all maggots are infectious parasites - in fact most are not - and we eat rat shit and cockroach legs, in small amounts, all the time.  I could have eaten this in a restaurant and I never would have known the difference.  Chances are this fish would not make us sick.  And this is what I told myself as I worked through the five stages (see Denial, Bargaining, above).  BUT to see it and then decide to eat it anyway?  Different matter altogther.

Now I don't always need to resort to the dumbass approach to get through life, but it is an important floor to set for risk-assessment.

A similar, related way of viewing risks and dangers, especially with respect to the relative benefits and virtues of dangerous activities, looks to my mother's reaction to any death or injury that might result.  I won't bungee jump or sky-dive for this reason. It is one thing to die climbing Denali or even jumping a freight train, which, itself, has literary and historic value, but bungee jumping?  Sky-diving?  What a cruel thing to do to your mother.  Oh, I'm so sorry you lost your daughter, Ma'am, how did she die?  Oh, she jumped out of an airplane?   Voluntarily?  Duh.  Jumping out of an airplane is not a reasonably prudent thing to do.  In my opinion at least.

Not that my mother has ever given me grief for what I might do.  We all make this call differently, each of us with our individual values and standards determining where the line will be drawn.  For some, there is intrinsic value in jumping off of a bridge with a bungee cord attached to your ankle.  It builds character, the thrill of the experience is a valuable component to life.   For others, the mere act of getting in an airplane borders on foolish.  You voluntarily enter a steel tube that then goes hurtling through the goddamn sky?  What do you think will happen?

I still think I probably could and should have cooked the fish.  But it is easier to forgive yourself for spending eight dollars on fish that you didn't eat than it is to forgive yourself for being a dumbass.

Happy Colette Day everyone!  Be thankful for what you got, even if its just a nice shirt.

In the past, I've made it a point to send one big email per year about my estate planning law practice and professional life.  Not this year - below is an email I just sent around to clients and friends:

I have received SO MUCH positive feedback about the Panic-free Planning Potlucks.  Thanks to many of you for your participation and enthusiasm, and for spreading the word.  However, the Potlucks are not right for everyone, so I've expanded my Panic-free Planning offerings.   Read below or go to my website and click on Panic-free Planning.

In addition to Panic-free Planning Potlucks, I am offering Panic-free Planning Workshops in my office.  These Workshops are much like the Potlucks - you execute the same very basic documents for the same very low price.  The Workshops are good for those of you who can't or don't want to organize a group of friends, or would rather skip the bonding meal and get your documents finalized at a less time-consuming event.  Workshops are already scheduled for April, and as long as at least two unrelated people sign up for a Workshop, it is a go!

I am also offering Self-help Consultations that take place in the comfort of your own home.  How many of you have bought the do-it-yourself materials from Nolo or some other legal publishing company?  Are the software and book gathering dust on your shelf?  For a flat fee of $500, I come to your house and work with you for up to three hours to finally use that software you bought to help you create a fully customized estate plan (to the extent your software permits).  Maybe you haven't created your estate planning documents because you have difficulty finding the motivation or time.  Or maybe you can't let go of that nagging fear that you will miss something.  With my self-help consultations you'll do it yourself, but you won't have to do it alone.
 
Lastly, if you are interested in putting together an estate plan (whether through a Panic-free Potluck, Panic-free Workshop, Self-help Consultation or otherwise) and are short on cash, talk to me about bartering!  I can't guarantee I'll need your services, but I'm always open to talking about it.

OK - that is all for now.  Please forward this information to anyone you think might be interested.  If are on any listservs (in particular parenting or school listservs), and want to post this information there, that would be great, too!

With thanks and good wishes,
Amy

On June 12 of this year I will celebrate my 39th birthday.  I consider that the official kick-off to planning my 40th birthday party.

40 is, to date, the only approaching birthday that has filled me with any sort of anxiety or stress.  30 was a piece of cake - a total joy, even.  I was completely relieved to be finished with any illusion of a connection to 19.  All of the birthdays in my 30's have felt relatively mundane, with a ripple of impending doom hitting at 37.

I am convinced that so many good things await in my 40's, but it nonetheless exists in my heart (more than my mind) as a fearsome threshold.

I'm working on a plan to host an incredible event.  One that will bring together the amazing creative forces of everyone in my life.  In the plan, there is some sort of fundraiser - a fixed certain amount will go toward a birthday gift for me, something substantial that everyone can pitch in on, and anything above and beyond that goes to charity.   With critical mass, even small contributions from everyone will add up to a lot.  And I have, like, 350 friends on facebook alone!  I'm stoked.

So, the question is this: should my gift be a yoga retreat or laser hair removal for my chin?

I was going to give myself the gift of a yoga retreat after my daughter stopped nursing.  Reclaiming my body, taking space for myself again.  That was 2 years ago and I still haven't done it.  So I have a standing order for that gift. 

But then there's the chin hair - I am so sick of plucking it!  Plus I break out from all of the attention I pay to that swatch of skin.  TMI?  Maybe.  Sorry.

I'm a little tripped out by the psycho-spiritual implications of the decision of which way to go as I head into this milestone of aging.

The yoga retreat is obvious and straightforward in its pure goodness - physical and spiritual health, self-nurturing.  Cool -I'm evolved and evolving, I take care of myself, good for me.

Chin hairs?  Is 40 when I should get over myself and my vanity issues?  Is 40 when I should accept myself how I am?  Is 40 when I should stop giving myself a total head trip about my very understandable desire not to have chin hair and zits?  Start a home yoga practice with all the time I'll save not doing battle with my follicles?

I have not written anything here for a few weeks.   One of the reasons I've been reluctant to broadcast news of my web-log to all of my fans is that I wanted to see whether I'd really post regularly.  Nothing is worse than a web-log that is never updated. Except a lot of things, really, but it sucks when you get all into following a web-log and then no one updates it.  Bo-ring.  I've done a moderately decent job of paying consistent attention to this web-log, in my opinion.  I'll probably not post the link to my web-log on facebook or anything like that.  Although facebook is really the only thing 'like that' in my life.

So, in the hopes of getting things going again, I've decided to post a list.  Lists can function in so many ways - and I'm just talking about the way other peoples' lists work, not your own.  The function (or not) of your own lists in your own life is another story altogether.  Or many stories.  But other peoples' lists - back to that.  Other peoples' lists can be incredibly mundane and boring and self-indulgent.  I'm sure this will be one. Other peoples' lists can throw you into a state of anxiety and self-doubt, and can really do a job on your self-esteem, as in "I should do that, but I have so little hope of ever getting it accomplished I don't even put it on my list."  I can only hope I have that effect on people.  Other peoples' lists can also be validating, as in, "wow, they still have yet to do all that shit, I did that yesterday" or "what a good idea!"

My list may make you feel good or bad about yourself and your life. In the hopes of providing some validation to you, I'm also letting you know how long the various items have been on my list.  Some of the items make regular appearances - foods to make, foods to buy.  With these I'm indicating how long they've been my intentions, at least since the last time I wrote a list or had any intention regarding them.

Now mostly my lists are handwritten and usually involve lots of arrows and/or dots and/or dashes for design and overall organization.  And usually my lists are kind of centered around a particular task or focus: what to do to get ready for Huck's birthday party, things to accomplish in the house, what to buy at Trader Joe's.  This one is random - a hodgepodge from all of them.  Enjoy.

++ Make bread - 8 hours.
++ Curtains for the bedroom skylights - 5 weeks.
++ Organize my art area - 15 years.
++ Buy vinegar barrel - 7 years.
++ Weed yard - 2 weeks.
++ Build a closet in the bedroom - 2 months.
++ Build a planting table/organize garden tools   4 months.
++ Learn how to build shit (I should really know this) - 10 years.
++ Make cream of spinach soup - 2 hours.
++ Buy maple syrup - 2 weeks.
++ Deal with the kombucha I started brewing 1 1/2 months ago - 4 weeks.
++ Get bottles for kombucha - 6 weeks.
++ Clean/organize office - 6 months.
++ Deal with headlight and turn signal on car - 2 months.
++ Work on quilt - 8 months.
++ Write for web-log - DONE!