If jury selection is truly RANDOM, then how come Scout and I have both received summons for jury duty two weeks apart? Reeeaaaally... random? I would like to present a case that they scroll through the list in alphabetical order. Hmmm... except that his first name would come before mine. Buuuut... this probably isn't the most perfect process, so I'll allow it as evidence that it is possible Scout's name got caught up in a jammed printer, so he was spared for another two weeks, which would allow me to leapfrog ahead of him in potential juror line. It's plausible.
I am pretty sure if I do have to go down to the courthouse, it will only be for one day. Scout assures me that nobody wants a hormonal woman sitting on a jury. Especially once they see how many bathroom breaks I'll need! I am considering bringing a box of tissues with me in case of potential selection, since I'm pretty sure I can cry on demand these days.
No knitting needles to pass my time (deadly weapons - you should SEE the statistics on knitting needles deaths in the U.S. - on the rise!). I'll have to pass my time with the good, old fashioned book. Which might be nice, since I have a stack about 2 feet high of books I've been "meaning to read."
Wish me luck next week... sitting in a room with 347 of my closest friends, all with last names starting with "O."
3.09.2009
3.06.2009
growth spurt
By the eighth grade, I had already completed my growth spurt, reaching peak elevation at 5'8". Which, I now appreciate - I can reach the top cabinets in my kitchen, don't have to hem my pants, and all sorts of other perks (none of which I can think of at this moment, but I know they exist). But in junior high, 5'8" was ridiculous - I towered over all the boys, and my poofy Jersey Girl bangs only accentuated my height. Fortunately, pegging your pants was in, so I didn't have to worry about my pants being too short - good thing, cause that was well before the Gap made pants in ankle/regular/long versions.
It has been many moons (and perhaps even a score ago, but a lady cannot admit her true age) since I have experienced a growth spurt, but here it goes again... and this time, I am not growing UP, but rather, growing OUT. Yes, it's true - I am currently baking a little Scout in the oven. We are not sure if it is a girl scout or a boy scout yet, but we will be asking the kind people with the cold lotion, metal prodder and mysterious black and white screen if they recommend blue or pink. See justification here.
My official due date (per Google search) is September 7, 2009 - yes, Labor Day. I am sure since I would so appreciate the irony of that, this child will not arrive on that day. In case that doesn't work out, I will be issuing an eviction notice on 9/9/09 - cause how cool would that be?!?! But rumor has it that the spawn don't listen, even though everyone says they can hear you in there! So, I say to my child: arrive whenever you want - we can't wait to meet you!
It has been many moons (and perhaps even a score ago, but a lady cannot admit her true age) since I have experienced a growth spurt, but here it goes again... and this time, I am not growing UP, but rather, growing OUT. Yes, it's true - I am currently baking a little Scout in the oven. We are not sure if it is a girl scout or a boy scout yet, but we will be asking the kind people with the cold lotion, metal prodder and mysterious black and white screen if they recommend blue or pink. See justification here.
My official due date (per Google search) is September 7, 2009 - yes, Labor Day. I am sure since I would so appreciate the irony of that, this child will not arrive on that day. In case that doesn't work out, I will be issuing an eviction notice on 9/9/09 - cause how cool would that be?!?! But rumor has it that the spawn don't listen, even though everyone says they can hear you in there! So, I say to my child: arrive whenever you want - we can't wait to meet you!
4.10.2008
it made more sense in the middle of the night
Padding into the bathroom at 2:16am due to dehydration induced gallon o’ water consumption last night, I was startled by a small, dark object on the floor. The moonlight slicing through the window - okay, fine, the bright light of the streetlamp right outside the bedroom window that will not be dulled by the shades - illuminated the object against the shiny white tile. My first thought was, “Oh, shit, a mouse. Should I wake up Scout so he can catch it?” My second thought was, “Since I don’t have my glasses on, perhaps I should verify that it IS a mouse before I wake him up (see previous mention of time of day, rather, night).”
So I flipped the light switch on to get a clear view of the mouse. A couple flaws with that plan (which didn’t occur to me until after I was fully awake, as I clearly was not when I concocted this crazy plan):
1) I had to actually come within 2 feet of the mouse to turn on the light. So after I saw it on the ground, I continued to walk TOWARD it in order to turn on the light.
2) I neglected to consider that the mouse might ALSO see the light and scurry away instead of hanging out for me to inspect its rodentness.
Fortunately for my middle of the night illogical logic, it was not a mouse. Quit squirming in your chairs. It was a travel pack of Kleenex that had fallen off the counter. You can understand how I could be confused, as tissues wrapped in cellophane have an uncanny resemblance to furry tailed rodents. People have been confusing the two for many, many years. Hey, it made sense in the middle of the night.
So I flipped the light switch on to get a clear view of the mouse. A couple flaws with that plan (which didn’t occur to me until after I was fully awake, as I clearly was not when I concocted this crazy plan):
1) I had to actually come within 2 feet of the mouse to turn on the light. So after I saw it on the ground, I continued to walk TOWARD it in order to turn on the light.
2) I neglected to consider that the mouse might ALSO see the light and scurry away instead of hanging out for me to inspect its rodentness.
Fortunately for my middle of the night illogical logic, it was not a mouse. Quit squirming in your chairs. It was a travel pack of Kleenex that had fallen off the counter. You can understand how I could be confused, as tissues wrapped in cellophane have an uncanny resemblance to furry tailed rodents. People have been confusing the two for many, many years. Hey, it made sense in the middle of the night.
4.08.2008
can you hear it?
They have been silent until now, hidden away in a dark place. But today, they are calling out to me. Demons from my past? Orphaned starving children from a third world nation? Hardly. It’s those damn girl scout cookies sitting in my work drawer.
I have avoided them for WEEKS! Part of the beauty of my plan was that I would leave them in my drawer at work, and since I have been traveling lately, I didn’t have access to them. Of course, I could have driven to my office to rescue them, but that would have been CRAZY. It even seemed crazy when it crossed my mind this weekend, but fortunately (in this case), I am lazy and the prospect of driving to work seemed like… well, too much work. But now – they are RIGHT there… if I roll my chair to the right, I can reach them. And there are starving children in this world – it would be a waste to let these cookies go stale. I suppose I could send the cookies to them, but think of all the gas and packaging materials that would have to go into the shipment – and I would have a tough time contributing to global warming even if it was for the cause of reducing world hunger. Competing priorities.
I should go. I have to rescue those poor helpless Samoas (I am protesting their new lame-o name – I anticipate they will bring it back next year due to the revolution) from my drawer. Give them a better home – um, my stomach? Or I guess it would probably be more like my hips or my rump shaker. A technicality.
I have avoided them for WEEKS! Part of the beauty of my plan was that I would leave them in my drawer at work, and since I have been traveling lately, I didn’t have access to them. Of course, I could have driven to my office to rescue them, but that would have been CRAZY. It even seemed crazy when it crossed my mind this weekend, but fortunately (in this case), I am lazy and the prospect of driving to work seemed like… well, too much work. But now – they are RIGHT there… if I roll my chair to the right, I can reach them. And there are starving children in this world – it would be a waste to let these cookies go stale. I suppose I could send the cookies to them, but think of all the gas and packaging materials that would have to go into the shipment – and I would have a tough time contributing to global warming even if it was for the cause of reducing world hunger. Competing priorities.
I should go. I have to rescue those poor helpless Samoas (I am protesting their new lame-o name – I anticipate they will bring it back next year due to the revolution) from my drawer. Give them a better home – um, my stomach? Or I guess it would probably be more like my hips or my rump shaker. A technicality.
4.01.2008
go ahead… make my day
Each new day starts fresh… but with each new beginning, there is a certain amount of repetition. Whether it is a daily routine (flossing your teeth – or so you tell your dentist when you go for your cleaning), a daily route (didn’t you see that guy shaving in his car yesterday… or worse) or the same people (crazy guy that sits behind the bus driver and tells him the mundane details of his life while said bus driver is looking out for the jackass that is about to cut him off), there is a thread of consistency and repetition as we travel through life.
One of those things that makes my day significantly better…
Opening the door to the bathroom stall at work and finding the toilet seat still up. Not because we have a coed bathroom (do you think I am Ally McBeal?) but because nobody has used the seat since the cleaners came through. How beautiful - a pristine seat gleaming at me, untouched by any other behind. Not that I can even validate that the cleaners actually clean the seat – they might just raise it so they can squirt the blue cleaner into the bowl without dripping and leaving the evidence. Or, they might wipe it with a nasty rag. Or, they might wipe it with a paper towel and no cleaner. But I like to think they squirted every square inch with antimicrobial cleaner and wiped it down with a clean rag/fresh paper towel. Let me live my dream.
Now you know what makes my day. I’m a simple girl.
One of those things that makes my day significantly better…
Opening the door to the bathroom stall at work and finding the toilet seat still up. Not because we have a coed bathroom (do you think I am Ally McBeal?) but because nobody has used the seat since the cleaners came through. How beautiful - a pristine seat gleaming at me, untouched by any other behind. Not that I can even validate that the cleaners actually clean the seat – they might just raise it so they can squirt the blue cleaner into the bowl without dripping and leaving the evidence. Or, they might wipe it with a nasty rag. Or, they might wipe it with a paper towel and no cleaner. But I like to think they squirted every square inch with antimicrobial cleaner and wiped it down with a clean rag/fresh paper towel. Let me live my dream.
Now you know what makes my day. I’m a simple girl.
3.27.2008
good(ish) samaritan
Upon arriving home from my March Madness trip to SoCal (southern California for those of you who live outside of Ahnold’s jurisdiction), I found a puffy package in my mailbox. I ripped it open, hopeful that it was my long lost (okay, fine, only five days, but it seemed like forever) wallet. Except that it felt kind of skinny – and it was. No money inside. Not that I expected it. When I resigned myself to the fact that my wallet was not in any of the four thousand pockets of my purse/laptop bag/suitcase, I proclaimed, “I don’t care if they take all the money, I just want to get my license back so I don’t have to stand in line at the DMV.”
So why was I so bummed to find a cashless wallet? Perhaps because when I looked at the return address, there was none! It said “Sender Not Identified, General Delivery, San Francisco.” Question is: why didn’t the mysterious good(ish) samaritan not want to be identified?
1) Good(ish) Samaritan Daniel found the wallet without cash in it and didn’t want to be accused of taking his own reward (my mother’s theory).
b) Good(ish) Samaritan Daniel is wildly famous and didn’t want to draw attention to his celebrity status to avoid appearing in the latest issue of US Weekly as a hero.
iii) Good(ish) Samaritan Daniel took his reward in advance.
For those of you who guessed iii, 3, or c - you are right! Well, I don't KNOW that you are right, but I am 99.99999 (repeating) percent sure that this is the correct option. Even considering the statistical variance of .000001 percent, you are still right. A+++++ right. And here I am - missing my cash, but still in possession of my newly renewed license, all my cancelled credit cards, my blood donor card, my library card and the receipt from my grocery store allowing me to get a 10 cent discount per gallon on my next gasoline purchase. Good news is that Daniel will not be donating pints of blood under the auspices of yours truly, I will not have exorbitant library tabs run up in my name and my next gas purchase will likely be below four bucks a gallon (if I go today - if I wait until tomorrow it might be $5.39/gallon). Other good news is that I no longer have a lingering concern that I will have to do something amazing to pay back the good karma that I received for getting my wallet back – I am confident that Daniel voided the karma exchange by taking all the cash out of my wallet.
The moral of this story is (it is a simple one): don’t lose your wallet.
3.19.2008
You have GOT to be kidding me
This hasn’t happened to me in… well, ever, as far as I can remember. I lost my wallet. Really, truly, back of a taxicab (as far as I can recollect) lost my wallet. I AM a chronic misplacer… If I had a parrot in college, it surely would have been squawking the phrase, “has anyone seen my ID card?” And I am always wandering around the house collecting items (keys, cell phone) before walking out the door. But I can’t EVER remember actually losing my wallet.
And based on my last post, you might be wondering if I am out of town… well, yes, yes I am. Today is my last day (supposedly) on my project in San Francisco, and I am flying out of Sacramento tonight for 2 fabulous days of March Madness (more on that in a later post - yes, as the writer's strike came to an end and finally we will have good TV again, you will have new blog posts to read from yours truly).
To retrace my steps (which I have done a hundred times): I had an early meeting this morning (6:30am to be exact) at the office. I got up early, thought I had enough time to get ready, pack, get out of the hotel and walk to the office (about a 15 minute walk). Of course I miscalculated, AND when I got outside I realized it is still dark at 6:20am. Damn you, daylight savings time, damn you (except at night when it is still light out, then you are fine, daylight savings time). So I got a cab.
I know I had my wallet out in the cab, because I got my money out to pay the driver. And then, when I went to get my wallet around 9:20am (I mistimed everything this morning and 2 meetings later, still hadn’t had breakfast), it was not there. I went through all my bags over and over… searched the floor, searched the offices I had been in… nothing. I started to panic… I called the hotel, went out and looked on the street in front of my office building (right… like a wallet would have just laid untouched on a city sidewalk for 3.5 hours), called the taxi company (which I think was the taxi I took, but I can’t say for sure)… seriously? Is this happening to me?
Then I called Scout and 1) asked him to get my shiny new passport from home so that I could board the plane tonight and 2) asked him if I should start canceling my cards. Which I had to make a list of, and I am not sure it is complete. Do you know what cards you have in your wallet?
Dialed the first 800 number and spent 3 minutes trying to get through the “please enter your account number” prompts. Finally got through after endlessly pretending I was calling from a rotary phone by ignoring the menu selections, explained to the girl that I was reporting a lost card and then... she asked me for my account number. I held back the rage and said again, “I LOST my card, so I don’t HAVE it to give the number to you.” 37 security questions later, card is cancelled. One down, three to go. Second verse, worse than the first… joint card w/ Scout yielded a crazy customer service rep who was practically yelling at me. I hung up on her, called Scout and told him he had to call in to those crazy peeps because I couldn’t deal with them. Subsequent craziness so on and so forth with the other cards…
At home for lunch, Scout noticed a message on our home phone. It was Daniel – he said he found my wallet. But he didn’t leave his phone number (and I think we are the only people in the world who don’t have caller ID on our home phone). Of course he didn't leave his number. Why would he? It's not like people with missing wallets need them. So I told Scout to leave a new message on our answering machine: “You have reached Scout and nro – if this is Daniel and you found nro’s wallet, please call her cell phone at 867-5309.” I guess it is good that he found it, but it would have been exponentially more helpful if he left a contact number. Is that asking too much? I guess I should be happy that someone was responsible and respectable enough to attempt contacting me at all. But I will reserve final judgement until I have my wallet in my possession.
Hopefully I will get my wallet back – any bets on whether my cash will be there or not?
And based on my last post, you might be wondering if I am out of town… well, yes, yes I am. Today is my last day (supposedly) on my project in San Francisco, and I am flying out of Sacramento tonight for 2 fabulous days of March Madness (more on that in a later post - yes, as the writer's strike came to an end and finally we will have good TV again, you will have new blog posts to read from yours truly).
To retrace my steps (which I have done a hundred times): I had an early meeting this morning (6:30am to be exact) at the office. I got up early, thought I had enough time to get ready, pack, get out of the hotel and walk to the office (about a 15 minute walk). Of course I miscalculated, AND when I got outside I realized it is still dark at 6:20am. Damn you, daylight savings time, damn you (except at night when it is still light out, then you are fine, daylight savings time). So I got a cab.
I know I had my wallet out in the cab, because I got my money out to pay the driver. And then, when I went to get my wallet around 9:20am (I mistimed everything this morning and 2 meetings later, still hadn’t had breakfast), it was not there. I went through all my bags over and over… searched the floor, searched the offices I had been in… nothing. I started to panic… I called the hotel, went out and looked on the street in front of my office building (right… like a wallet would have just laid untouched on a city sidewalk for 3.5 hours), called the taxi company (which I think was the taxi I took, but I can’t say for sure)… seriously? Is this happening to me?
Then I called Scout and 1) asked him to get my shiny new passport from home so that I could board the plane tonight and 2) asked him if I should start canceling my cards. Which I had to make a list of, and I am not sure it is complete. Do you know what cards you have in your wallet?
Dialed the first 800 number and spent 3 minutes trying to get through the “please enter your account number” prompts. Finally got through after endlessly pretending I was calling from a rotary phone by ignoring the menu selections, explained to the girl that I was reporting a lost card and then... she asked me for my account number. I held back the rage and said again, “I LOST my card, so I don’t HAVE it to give the number to you.” 37 security questions later, card is cancelled. One down, three to go. Second verse, worse than the first… joint card w/ Scout yielded a crazy customer service rep who was practically yelling at me. I hung up on her, called Scout and told him he had to call in to those crazy peeps because I couldn’t deal with them. Subsequent craziness so on and so forth with the other cards…
At home for lunch, Scout noticed a message on our home phone. It was Daniel – he said he found my wallet. But he didn’t leave his phone number (and I think we are the only people in the world who don’t have caller ID on our home phone). Of course he didn't leave his number. Why would he? It's not like people with missing wallets need them. So I told Scout to leave a new message on our answering machine: “You have reached Scout and nro – if this is Daniel and you found nro’s wallet, please call her cell phone at 867-5309.” I guess it is good that he found it, but it would have been exponentially more helpful if he left a contact number. Is that asking too much? I guess I should be happy that someone was responsible and respectable enough to attempt contacting me at all. But I will reserve final judgement until I have my wallet in my possession.
Hopefully I will get my wallet back – any bets on whether my cash will be there or not?
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