Jury Duty - Russian Roulette

Today I had the pleasure of experiencing the Judicial System.

"You'll love it, you sit and read and relax while getting paid by work AND the courts," my friend explained.

I packed my writing, two books I was reading, my iPad and some new music to listen to - expecting to relax for a day and catch up on things.

Boy was I wrong. 

The very first group of jurors - 37 people including yours truly.

How do the people who've been here before look?  "Oh shit, I could actually be picked for a case!"

Me?  I'm confused, I follow everyone out of the big jury room to a small court room asking along the way, "Do we still get to read?  Do I still get to write?"

We go into the court room that's about 85 degrees and all have to sit crowded onto church pews in the visitor seating area.  Someone next to me lets out a SBD, yes a silent but deadly fart.  Oh, it's going to be a long day.

The judge then went through all the procedures:

All eyes on the judge.
You must listen to every single part of the procedure.
You must not talk.
You cannot do anything except listen to the procedures.

So we go through the set of questions with the first set of prospective jurors, and I'm thinking this is pretty interesting, maybe I could do this until they get to the trial lasting about a week to week and a half.  My mind starts moving into what I have to do if I get picked, and I start sweating, while someone around me lets another one loose.

The judge asks if anyone cannot do the trial and I am tempted to get up with the four others and explain that my husband is out of town, that my kids are in school, that I work 3 different jobs.  As I think to do it, another woman says pretty much the same thing and the judge not only sends her back to the jury pool but lectures her on her civic duty.

I start sweating more, and someone lets another one.

Each juror is interviewed by both lawyers who then decide to keep them or let them go.  It's like that horror movie, you watch the next person hit the hot seat, listen to them answer a question, cringe when they say something that sends them out the door.  The amount of sweat you produce is a direct correlation to the number of people around you walking out of the courtroom.

I'm getting to a point where I am mentally answering the question for them, "Don't tell them you have a heart condition, you can serve jury duty with a heart condition!?"

Another one out the door, next.

"Don't tell them your whole life's story, just answer the questions.  What?   He's a pastor, oh man, they are going to let him go!"

Another one out the door, the woman next to be gets called, another foul one wafting across the room.

What?  She can't hear very well?   I think she can hear just fine, you mean she's 68, no that's not too old - PICK HER!

We get down to me and one other person sitting on the benches staring at each other like, "Please let them pick you."  The jury is sat, they are interviewing the alternates, I'd still get stuck.  I smell something and almost look at her saying, "REALLY!"

The woman stands with a piece of paper, I hold my breath.  She looks at us.

It's her.

I sit back because, I am not home free yet.  What if she has Tourette's Syndrome, or knows someone in the case, or doesn't answer the questions right?  I find myself saying a little prayer.

When the first lawyer is satisfied with the woman's answers, I smile as I see her frown and start sweating.  The defense lawyer asks her a few questions, she is hinting around that she doesn't have time to do it, the lawyer stops with her looks at the judge and says he is satisfied.



I almost jump up as the last prospective juror standing and yell "YEAH!  NA NA NA Boo Boo!  To who ever was FARTING, you're stuck with them!  I'm out of here!  Oh Yeah, Uh huh! ALL RIGHT!"

Instead I quietly leave the jurors sitting in the box looking like they are the one on trial and walk out of the room, HAPPY that I am back in the stuffy, hot, sweaty room of prospective jurors!  I'd rather be there any day - thank you Lord!

What I did learn:

It takes a special person, most of the people sitting with me had been married over 15 years, with several adult children, AND held a job for over 20 years.  I figured out why, because upstanding people are the ones that ACTUALLY show up for jury duty.  The rest?  They are getting deferments or just not showing up.

And if you get called to jury duty, don't complain about sitting in the big room with all the other people - it is SO MUCH better than sitting in on a trial and figuring out how to rearrange your life for the next week and a half.

Oh, and bring Febreeze with you because it is much better than standing up in the middle of the proceedings and looking at the people around you saying, "REALLY?  WHO IS IT?"

If you do your duty, as I did and don't get picked, you're scott free for two years AND you make 12 bucks for the day.  A win/win right?

Ever been to jury duty?

Boys - what would you do?

My boys were getting into a fight in a public place, I watched as an adult grabbed the older one by the shirt and said something to him before pushing him away.  I am at a loss if I should have intervened or not.  Here's my take on it:


1.  Sometimes the younger one instigates it and no one sees that - he still has the cuteness factor on his side that makes everyone - including me - over look it.

2.  Yes, the older one is working on self control, and I did tell him to get his brother to do something that his brother DID NOT do.

3.  No, that does not condone him from bullying his brother but - do we use physical force to teach a lesson about physical force?

4.  Don't most brothers fight like that?  Or did I grow up in a different household?

I guess what I am working with here is whether or not I should have stepped in and said something or just let it play out the way I just did.  Here's why I let it play out.

1.  I tell the older one that he needs to learn control maybe someone else embarrassing him into it will make him think twice before his hormones are raging outbreaks.

2.  The younger one needs to see the consequences about his actions - his brother did tell him that I wanted them to do something that he specifically refused to do.  He understood that he brought this one on himself.

3.  I am sure the older one was showing off in front of a friend, and I am glad that this taught him that this doesn't end well.

In the end it had them both crying, which I think is a good thing, both learning lessons that I can tell them over and over again but until someone else says something it really doesn't resonate.   I watched them both apologize to each to each other and then take care of each other like brothers do.  They do love each other - they just annoy the hell out of each other.  

As I always say, "Be lucky that your brother loves you, because you annoy a stranger like that it is going to be much worse that you ever expected."

They learned that today.

Would you have let it play out or would you have stepped in, what do you think?

Ten Secrets to a Happy Marriage - Husband/Wife Edition

Today I celebrate 26 years with a great man who loves me, puts up with all of my crap AND still smiles at me every morning.  How do we do it?  Easy.....



For the Husband:

1.  Don't worry about your socks matching, especially as she gets on in years and can't even see them as she matches them, no one looks at your socks anyway.

2.  The bra hanging on the door knob - she's just reminding you that she's still got it - don't mention it needs a little more underwire than the youthful days.

3.  Dinner is anyway you see it - that burnt food after 26 years - it's just extra flavoring.

4.  There is no perfect way to parent a child - and sometimes duct tape can help you have a casual conversation with your wife.

5.  Say I love you every single day, especially when she asks, "Do I look fat in these jeans?"

For the Wife:

1.  No, you do not look fat in those jeans, and he knows any way he tries to say it will not come out right, just accept the "I love you" and smile.

2.  Great motto for life - always keep your fights on the clean side, and what you do in the bedroom on the dirty side.

3.  He still wants you after watching you give birth, gain then shed 50 lbs AND when you color your hair - you got a good one.

4.  Pick you arguments, the ones that don't matter just smile sweetly and keep what you are saying in your head, in your head.

5.  Starting off and then doing the work to stay friends.  You can tell your friend anything, but if they are married to you you can tell them anything AND they still love you anyway!

Happy Anniversary to my best friend, someone I've been with longer than I've been alone - and that's a good thing.  A lot of people call marriage a work of art - ours will be a masterpiece.

Hello Menopause, my Old Friend

I'm getting old.

Yes, I have fought it every step of the way, but somehow it caught up with me.

I am getting old.

How do I know?

I am having hot flashes.  

Those feelings I used to welcome when watching Vin Diesel in the Fast and Furious movies but now they come at the wrong time.

When someone wants to give me a hug.

When I have put on that cute dress that just seems to not only soak up the water my body produces but places it in the most inappropriate places, like looking like I've peed myself.

I'm having mood swings.

My husband will say, "Good morning sweetie," and I hear, "Hey lardass how many Reese Cups did you eat last night?"  I know it is not right, but something inside makes me react to that.

Then my kids will do what they normally do - not brush their teeth for 6 days, or take their shoes off in the car when the windows are up or spend the afternoon annoying each other, normally I can ignore this, but all of a sudden I want to become Jason Vorhees and take out a chainsaw  and make they feel sorry they said "STOP" for the 1032th time.

I have a teenage face.

I wish it was the lack of wrinkles, or how nice and tight my skin is, it unfortunately is my skin has decided to errupt with craters bigger than Mt. St. Helenes, and off course mine are not the "I don't see anything zits," they are the "Wow, how many times have you picked at that one," zits.

I have a muffin top.

Is there nothing I can do for this extra layer of fat around my waist?  I am cutting my calories, my only carb is a single crouton once a week.  Some of my sisters nod knowingly with the "Oh, yeah, we tried that too" face but they let me do my pilates, my crunches, my burpees and see the same, "When's the baby due" stomach.

Now if I could take care of the liquid carbohydrates, well, then I'd be back at the beginning of this list and in a much worse mood.

I can't sleep.

Sure I worry about my kids, my job, my mortgages, my muffin top.  When I was younger, I'd wake up thinking, "Was that an axe murderer I heard in the house?"  Now, I wake up thinking, "Was that the dog barfing I heard?"  I can fall back to sleep only to wake up again thinking, "Did I actually post that after two glasses of wine?  or When did I pay the electric bill?"  These mean, just get up because you'll be obsessing about it anyway.

I'm become unsure.

I don't know which mood I hate more - the I want to kill everyone or the I am sliding into the pool of old age mood.  One at least gives me energy, the other just makes me sigh.  But then I look at Sophia Loren and Susan Sarandon and Meryl Streep and I just.....well, sigh.  Maybe the liquid bread is the problem.

I have memory loss.

I forget why I walked into a room.  I forget that my glasses are sitting on my head.  I forget that I schedule a facebook post and then like it because I think it is cool.  I write whole short stories and forget them until I read them a few days later.

I forget where I put my keys, I forget if I washed a pile of laundry until I smell it and as I fall to my knees remember this was on going INTO the washer.  I forget all the reminders school sends home, then forget re-reminders.  Yes, I am that parent begging, "I know it is a week late, but please let me turn in this fundraiser, sure it's a bunch of orders but it's really all my own money but he really wants to do the pig races this year!"

Luckily I know who I am and where I am going - and I do not need GPS to tell me so.  The best part about age is the wisdom that comes with it, so forget all the crappy stuff that comes along and embrace the new and improved you!

What are some of your menopause symptoms?

5 minutes in Dog Years

I need to go outside.

No really, I really need to go out side.

Whew, thanks for opening the door.



Ack!  It is freezing out here.

Let me in!

Let me in!

Whew, it is nice and warm in here.

Oh, wait, I forgot to use the bathroom.

I need to go outside.

Really, I forgot to use the bathroom, I HAVE to go outside.

Whew, thanks for opening the door.

It is freezing out here, let's get this over with fast!

Hey?  I'm back at the door, can you open it?

Really, open the door - it is freezing out here.

No?  Let me go to the other door.

Heck, is the back door I hear opening, wait!

Hey, I'm freezing back here, let me in.

I AM FREEZING, OPEN THE DOOR!

Whew, it is nice and warm in here.

..........

I think I want to go outside.

WTF - What the Friday - A Banana Slicer>?

Yes, behold, the Hutzler Banana Slicer, the newest gadget I must add to my kitchen!


At first I thought it was a joke, because I misread it to read Hustler Banana Slicer and my mind immediately went to that poor dude, what's his name, the Bobbitt who had the banana slicer or a device like it used on his banana.

So here's my take on a banana slicer.

It is billed as a fast way to slice banana - no go with me, because you still have to peel the banana so if it doesn't come with a banana peeler I'm not buying.

Looks like the banana can only go one way on the slicer.  What about left handed banana slicers?  Those poor people could lose fingers with this item.

Then I thought, all of my gadgets have multi-uses, so what about the banana slicer?

The perfect threat to my boys keeping them in line - simply show them the banana slicer and leave it at that - their imaginations are better than anything I could say.

We could slicer Weiners with it - not the congressman, but family weiners.  Granted the slicer kind of leans a little to the right, we'll just have to palpitate the weiner until it fits in the slicer, then it should work nicely.

The slicer would also work well on Bratwurst, the only problem is if it gets too hot it could spew hot juice on the slicee and cause burns.

Now this slicer is billed as the better banana slicer?  I'm thinking that it is designed to lure bananas by looking like a vagina, so it can slice them.  Too dangerous in my house.

Finally the MacDaddy of Banana Slicers - this could turn any male in your household fifty shades of pale.  BUT it not only slices bananas but eggs, apples, pears and of course small fingers and toes.

Better yet, just use a normal household items, like my children when they were younger.  Did you know you already had a banana slicer in your home?  Just open and close the CD holder while holding a banana in it - perfect slices every time.  Luckily the jamming warning kept it from slicing any other bananas in our household.

Would you add the Hutzler Banana Slicer to your drawer of kitchen gadgets?

What is that smell?

Babies prepare us for the lifelong job of being a mother.  How?  They prepare our noses:

It starts as an infant - they create the most unbelievable concoctions in their diaper - things you never believed you could smell and actually survive.  This prepares us for:

The leftover crap in the car - specifically the milk they decided to spill in the backseat on your floor mats, so that smell lingers and gets stronger on a hot summer day, which prepares us for:

The lunchbox that sits at the school Lost and Found for 2 weeks with the Thermos of pasta sitting in it

having a party with the water bottle full of apple juice and the cut up pears sitting in the plastic bag.  All of which is opened and put in the dishwasher preparing us for:

The science expermient that sits in the back of the fridge for 6 months, someone's got to guess what it is or what it what, which prepares us for:

The plate of food that ran upstairs and hid itself under their bed for a week, or so they tell you.  As you clean it, it prepares you for:

The tweenie getting in the car after a hot summer day at school, immediately taking their shoes off while reminding you they forgot to wear socks, which prepares you for:

The hormonal child after an extended gym class day in 90 degrees getting into your car, rolling up the windows and turning on the air conditioner, prompting you to have the talk about deodorant, which prepares us for:

Finding a huge pile of clothes sitting on top of the washing machine and wondering if you washed them or they are in need of a wash, with a heavy sigh you know what you need to do to find out, which prepares us for:

Cleaning out the boys bathroom, including scrubbing the toilet that obviously someone has missed and didn't notice.

See it all begins with shit and ends with shit.

The nose knows.