A quick study

As the date nears for Maeg, Krus, and Sohna to leave for Vashon Island, I feel compelled to impart some of my worldly knowledge and experience on Sohna, who, after all, is not yet 12 weeks old, and could hardly be expected to know everything. After all, what are grandparents for?

This week, we have been practicing all the obnoxious deeds kids feel obligated to show to other kids and adults alike. I don't want Sohna arriving in her new neighborhood without some of the tried-and-true antics that all kids seem to enjoy, at one time or another. For example, who doesn't like "seefood" and "train-wreck-in-a-tunnel", which involves a fair amount of food in one's mouth and invariably elicits groans from adults? That was high on the list this week. We also practiced "farting" by placing one's hand in one's armpit, and we thoroughly reviewed the advantages and joys of "whoopie cushions". We recited the ABC's while burping, after very quickly ingesting just the right amount of a diet soda (me, not Sohna), and also practiced farting and burping loudly, and then quickly looking at others around us with a rather astonished look on our faces. And, of course, a family favorite, snorting like a pig, on command, no less, was also high on the favs list (Maeg taught Flanny to do this when Flanny was 6 months old, so I have high hopes for Sohna...maybe it runs in the family; who knows?).

We spent a great deal of time "oohing" and "aahing" over the daffodils that have managed to make a cheerful, friendly, and sunny appearance just before Sohna departs, and we have thoroughly reviewed the rewards and joys of gardening and just where to plant the vegetables to ensure a healthy crop. Sohna is very opinionated about it all, but wisely defers to my judgment in these matters.

All in all, it's been a very productive week for us. Lots and lots of talking (words for me and cooing on her part) and giggling (she is quite the giggle girl, I must say), and so very many smiles (both of us), mixed in with a few tears (mine). Here is Sohna enjoying the daffodils and one of the many chats.

Confessions of a juror, part one

The trial is on, although I must say, the wheels of justice may be turning, but in a decidedly slow fashion. We completed a whopping 3 hours of testimony this entire week, thanks to a holiday on Monday, a defense attorney getting snowed in back east somewhere and arriving half a day late to court, a furlough day for the state workers, and a serious illness in one of the defense attorney's family; serious enough to take the rest of the short week off to deal with that crisis.

While I could be pondering the bombshell that one of the witnesses delivered earlier this week, I am busy figuring out how I am going to patch the enormous hole in my heart when little Sohna leaves on March 2nd. Yep. Maeg, Krus, and Sohna are moving to Vashon Island, WA, flying out on March 2nd. I can't even accompany them to the airport, because my civic duty to appear on time that day doesn't take into account the real life that happens outside the courtroom.

It's probably better that way. I'm not so terribly fond of so longs and goodbyes. I am really hopeful that somewhere in that little soul of hers, she knows just how loved and treasured she truly is, and how utterly and completely perfect she is, just the way she is.

My Favorite Valentine

I have a favorite valentine. I spent the day with my new, favorite valentine. My favorite valentine sang to me, giggled, and spent a wee bit of time on the couch, contemplating life, with pinky up on one hand, showing excellent manners (you know, when in doubt, pinky out) and flipping the world off with the other hand, albeit most likely unintentionally. Maybe not.



As I was changing my valentine's diaper (as in all significant relationships that go through some shit, my undying love and affection includes a lot of poop, as Sohna is affectionately referred to as "Sohna Super Pooper"), I started to whistle a happy little tune. It's been a few days since I've whistled to Sohna, so she was surprised. She stopped wiggling, stared at me for quite some time with those amazingly beautiful eyes of hers, and then proceeded to join in. Not a coo or two. A full blown stanza of her version of singing. Sounds a lot like a really long-winded coo, rising up an octave and continuing for quite some time. I was thrilled! Maeg assures me she's singing, and Sohna sings along with Maeg quite frequently.

My valentine also giggled. She's been working on this for some time, starting to laugh, but having some difficulty executing the actual full sound of a laugh. Well, bless her little giggly self, she did it. Sheer bliss!

My new profession: The lucky one

Well, it's official. Much to my surprise, I was picked to serve on a jury. Not just any jury; a long-ass trial that is high profile and expected to last at least a month, maybe longer.

The thing is, I can't talk about it, read about it, or hear about it. With anyone. No one. All I can do is 'think to myself' about it. I picked up the local paper this morning, the Mercury News, as I always do with my early morning cuppa, and bam! There it was. The article that I could NOT read. I did NOT read it, even though it was on the front page of the Local News section! Although I have been known to break some rules, I can't break these particular rules. I calmly flipped through the pages, saw that the article about the trial was continued on another page, put the entire section down, and read the rest of the paper. Honest. I will now be devouring Dear Abby and Miss Manners, and of course, the comics, and the obits (I always check those just to make sure my name isn't in there...so far, so good).

So, y'all don't get all sly on me and think you can slip something into the conversation that I won't realize is your way of discussing the trial without really discussing it. Not an option. The only discussion I can have is what is offered in the vending area of the jury waiting room.

So far, I have only ventured into the vending room once, to purchase a diet soda (mostly wanted it for the caffeine). The only reason I bought a diet soda was because I misplaced my parking stub and spent my entire lunch break looking for the validated parking stub, so I could leave and go get a decent cup of coffee for the afternoon session. Nope. Never did find it. Finally got a replacement parking stub (which involved going down three flights of stairs, only to find out there was no attendant there at that time, so I climbed up three flights of stairs again). At the end of the exhausting day, the darn ticket stub would not work in the machine at the exit, so I ended up holding up the entire parking structure, filled with happy jurors trying to exit, not at all in a hurry to get the hell out of there. Oh, no. They were all very pleased with me, I'm sure. I'll be the juror wearing a bag over her head, so as to enter and exit incognito in the future.

In my search for a caffeinated beverage, I did take a peek at the vending machine that dispenses candy and such. I took a quick glance, looking for M&M's, but, alas, not to be found. Thank goodness. That could get really addictive. I love M& M's. Plain, peanut, I'm not fussy. Any M&M is a good M&M to me. I did spy, out of the corner of my eye, Pay Day candy bars, but I thought about all the chewy stuff in the middle, and decided that would just give me too much fun, picking out all the chewy stuff out of my teeth all afternoon with my tongue, trying not to look obvious about it. So, my goal is to continue climbing all the stairs each day, and not buying anything from the vending machine, except the occasional diet soda, if I really need it.

For all my opinions about just about everything under the sun, I could go my entire life and not weigh in on this one. Really. Because I believe everything happens for a reason, I guess I'll go with the idea that I have a lot to learn about myself and maybe some other people, too. Here's hoping this learning experience will be a valuable one, and allow me to dabble in the black and white of the world, since mine is usually filled with only the gray.

Civic Duty or was that Skivvies Duty?

Being the good driver and registered voter that I am (the two ways in which one gets into the jury pool in the first place, through the DMV and voting records, at least according to the literature provided by the judicial system), I have been fulfilling my civic duty and appearing for jury duty, the entire week. Not just one day. Nope. No call-in each day to inquire as to whether I was to appear in person or just continue whistling while I work. Nope. Every day. From 9:00 a.m. until 4:30 p.m., not counting the driving, the parking, the walking down three flights of stairs, being "wanded" by security, and walking up five flights of stairs, then repeated in reverse, several times a day. At least I am getting a teeny, tiny bit of exercise each day, going up and down so many stairs; plus, I haven't allowed myself one single visit to the "vending" area, which I fear is filled with calorie-laden goodies that are positively deadly and would seem quite appealing after sitting on my duff for hours at a stretch.

This schedule of non-activity is quite unlike my usual up and down activities of walking to greet each student, popping up during our meetings to photocopy important documents that students bring in and providing them with copies of their ed plans, and then escorting them back up to the front waiting area, to greet yet another waiting student. At least that's some type of movement (although it probably wouldn't score very many "activity" points on Weight Watchers; still, it's better than nothing).

Unlike previous stints of jury duty, I have not spent endless hours in the jury waiting area this time around. Instead, I have spent an entire week listening to about 60 of the 100 people they will interview as prospective jurors, with the three attorneys and the judge asking each prospective jurors the same questions over and over and over and over again (although cleverly worded, slightly different each time around. Correction: cleverly is the operative word here. I personally don't think the questions are cleverly worded at all, but I imagine the attorneys probably do).

Although I was selected for jury duty way back in the 70's and served on two criminal cases in the past (one for indecent exposure and lewd acts in a public restroom, which was so racy for the 70's; the other for stealing hair dye from a drug store, and then being roughed up by a security officer), I remember spending a lot of time in the jury waiting area. I also met a lovely woman who would subsequently be a friend for life. She worked at CSULA and I was a student at CSULA. We hit it off immediately. I remember the thrill of eating lunch in downtown L.A. at different, inexpensive restaurants (how in the world could I afford that back then? I can't afford it now; I'm strictly a brown bagger), shopping, strolling around, and just generally being thrilled to be on a jury, and delighted to meet and begin to know such a dear friend.

This time around, it is decidedly different. The case involved is extremely serious and somewhat high profile. I am a much older and hopefully wiser prospective juror, and I have spent a fair amount of time with attorneys, law enforcement personnel, as well as parolees, and as an expert witness on the stand on many occasions.

Which is why I am fairly certain I won't get picked for the final jury and panel of alternates. Not only do I work with individuals that are in the same age group as the defendants, and I have been robbed at gunpoint (which I felt obligated to share, as one of the questions is "Have you ever been a victim of a crime?"), albeit many, many years ago, and my interactions with attorneys, law enforcement, and parolees has been pleasant and rewarding, I'm thinking they just won't pick me. The jury consultants for the prosecution and the defense are busily scratching away, compiling one list after another, furiously red-lining and repositioning their post-its time and time again, as one after another prospective juror is thanked and excused.

So, for now, I am on the jury panel and will return on Monday for another couple of days of jury selection. Since there does not seem to be any rhyme or reason to who they are thanking and excusing, only time will tell.

If, for some strange and bizarre reason, I am actually chosen to sit on this jury, I can expect the trial to last at least a month to a month and a half. Hum. So many "vending" opportunities. So little pocket change.