I have received my golden ticket. I have been called for jury duty.
It's an exciting process that involves receiving an ACTUAL LEGAL SUMMONS in which the sheriff of Lorain County, Ohio, is "commanded" to summon me "to be available to serve as a petit juror (I'll graciously overlook the fact that as a female I should serve as a petite juror, and that with my diminutive stature I would fit the bill nicely) for the Court of Common Pleas of Lorain County. (Emphasis theirs, all caps and bold and underlined and stuff.) Beginning Monday, June 14, 2010, I am required to be available to serve for a three week period as needed.
This was truly a gift from the Gods (or God, or the Universe, or a totally meaningless coincidence as per your beliefs). As most of you know, I've been experiencing a bit of angst about what I'm doing with my life at this point, and this gave me a breather. I knew enough to know that jurying is a day-to-day thing where you never know until the evening before where you need to be the following day. This is not compatible with doing childcare since working parents generally need to know that they have a babysitter who will be there. I dutifully notified the parents in question that I essentially needed a 3 week vacation. I had also, inexplicably, decided that now was the time to remodel our old bathroom and eldest daughter's room (just in time to get it the way she wants it so she can go to college in a year), so I could also be baby-free during construction.
I read my instructions with growing excitement. I would need to report to the courthouse by 8:30am. The parking lot is several blocks away so I calculated how early to leave my house to allow a 15 minute walking time (the letter says it's 5 minutes) so I wouldn't appear to be my usual, time-impaired self. The dress code said "business casual," a style of dress I haven't needed for at least a decade. I invested (all of $10.00) in a pair of dress sandals. (They will likely cause baby-toe blisters during the walk to the courthouse [no shuttle service available due to budgetary cutbacks] but, hey, they're cute!)
And did you know that you get PAID for jury duty? It's $25.00 if you need to be there all day, $10.00 if you're done by noon. THAT'S MORE THAN I MAKE BABYSITTING! And you get paid if asked to report, even if you don't serve on a jury! I could get paid for reading and doing crossword puzzles! I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
I even had an exciting conversation with my across the street neighbor who actually served on a jury. She said it is not true that you can have a portion of the transcript read back to you, that only happens on TV. She also said there is this cool static sound they pipe in over the jury when there is a sidebar at the bench. (Can you tell I've been sucked into the world of cop shows?) She also, JUST THAT MORNING, thought she had caught sight of the perp she'd help put away (how cool does that sound?) at a local park.
Oh boy, oh boy. I filled out my questionnaire (should I have mentioned that I once worked at a domestic violence shelter?), sent it in well ahead of the deadline, made sure I had an ample supply of books and crossword puzzles, and waited. And waited. One week and a half into my "jury duty" and I'm still waiting. Each day after 3:30pm I eagerly log onto the website only to be told to check in the following day after 3:30pm for further instructions. Heavy sigh.
Last week was OK. About once a year the yard requires some heavy upkeep involving trimming, weeding, and mulching, and I got that done. After that, well, let's just say I'm not so good with unstructured time. I fritter it away and then feel guilty for not getting anything done. I'm a bad self-starter. Without an external goal I quickly get aimless. And bored.
I just checked about tomorrow and you know what? I don't have to report tomorrow, either!
I guess it's back to babysitting as I can - a little money is better than none.
And, hey, at least I got some cute sandals out of the deal.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Poking Sleeping Bears (or What I did on my Summer Vacation, Part II)
Tom and I realized that we haven't planned a summer vacation yet which is unusual for us. Our vacation is usually the pinnacle of our year, a camping odyssey carefully mapped out and executed. But it's a different phase of life now and things grow more complicated. We need to include things like college visits this year for our impending high school senior. And last summer's camping trip showed me that taking two teen aged girls into an electronic and shopping-free zone isn't all that relaxing.
A nice transition. I realized that I never finished writing about last summer's alpha and omega journey: New York City followed by Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore in the upper part of lower Michigan.
Ah, Michigan. I never meant to fall for you. You were always the kid next door while I was growing up in Wisconsin. The other mitten state. We had our own north woods and Great Lakes so I didn't need you. But now that I've moved on and only have Lake Erie to cling to I find that the time we spend together means so much more.
I don't remember how we first discovered Sleeping Bear, but this was our second time there. The "bears" referred to are actually sand dunes. It's a gorgeous patch of dunes and Lake Michigan. I don't want to say too much more or else other people will want to go there.
There are three things I remember from this trip: boredom, the traditional rain while trying to break camp, and Regan from Muskegon.
First, the boredom. This was when it became painfully apparent that my kids were no longer content to just take in the sights, listen to birds, play in dirt, and relax. In fact, spending 24/7 with your parents in a place with no running water or electricity with only a fabric shelter to retreat to is probably the teen version of Hell.
It wasn't all pain and whining, though. I did get to spend some individual time with each girl during sunsets at the beach. Amelia and I went on a crazy rock hunt one evening. The next night Miriam and I skipped, or tried to, skip stones, whooping and high-fiving after each pathetic attempt. Amelia learned, much to her chagrin, what happens when you forget the sunscreen while wearing sunglasses. And the cool young park rangers, Zach and Sarah, kept things interesting.
And I have to mention the rain while breaking camp because it happens so often as to have become an integral part of the vacation experience. It goes like this: we have a beautiful couple of days camping somewhere, planning on packing up and moving on the next day. Sometime in the early hours of the morning we're leaving we hear a rumble of thunder, leading to a (usually futile) mad scramble to pack everything into the car before the tent gets wet. Then we drag our wet, disheveled selves to the nearest diner for breakfast. I'm not kidding, this has happened to us at least 5 times that I can think of. Joe's Diner in Honor, Michigan took good care of us this last time.
A highlight for me, however, was Regan from Muskegon. That's how he introduced himself. As in all camping, you take your chances with your neighbors. With nothing separating you from each other the quality of the neighbor impacts the overall camping experience. Our favorite campground at Sleeping Bear doesn't take reservations, so we were just happy (and lucky) to get a site, even if it was next to a chain-smoking guy who favored staying up at night by his campfire drinking beer (probably Bud Light) and listening to classic rock (Led Zeppelin/Rolling Stones era).
If he were a dog, Regan would be a golden retriever -- big, shaggy, and enthusiastically friendly. I figured him to be in his 50's. He was not tall, but big. Muscular (oak tree biceps), but paunchy. His tangled blond hair fell to his shoulders but he had a sizable bald spot. He favored wearing faded tank tops, shorts, and mirrored shades. He was the neighbor who would walk out and talk to you while you were walking by (which, truth be told, made us consider alternate routes to the outhouse).
He buttonholed me our first day there, I believe, while I was returning from my morning stumble to the rest facilities. He strode out to wish me good morning. Now, I'm not a self-conscious person upon rising, and I have no real problem strolling around in pajamas before completing the daily grooming. Regan made a good-natured jibe about my hair, then grabbed a nearby fork and proceeded to run it through his. He asked after the rest of the family, referring to us by name. Turns out he had talked to Tom the night before and had scrawled our names on a paper plate so he'd remember. While we were talking one of the ever present daddy-long-legs crawled up my shoulder. Regan grabbed it away and said he was adopting them as pets. He was going to name that one Jeff.
I was amused and somewhat charmed.
It was easy to remember his name because of the rhyme -- he's Regan from Muskegon. He had spent the past twenty plus years as a furniture salesman but this was the beginning of the economic downturn. Even though he had seniority and experience they laid him off. He also had recently separated from his wife of twenty some years. He was up here to kayak and gather his thoughts. He still had his house in Muskegon, but wasn't sure he wanted to return there, and it was a bad time to sell. He hadn't found new work, didn't know what he wanted to do, but knew unemployment was going to run out. A buddy had contacted him about going out west to be a rafting guide. He was considering it.
I think I recognized his state of mind. Somewhat. It makes me think of the last job I walked out on. No, not the nursing home. The law office. That job was a complicated psychodrama beyond going into here and one day I just walked out. It was only about 11am and I just walked out and climbed into my car without any clear idea of where I was going, just knowing I didn't belong in that office. As I turned the key in the ignition the radio turned on and Tom Petty's "Free Falling" was playing. I still consider that a magical moment. I felt I had jumped off a cliff.
Looking at Regan, I thought I saw some of that stomach-churning elation. He had lost everything that anchors a person and he was just going, casting his fates to the wind. He ran out of time at Sleeping Bear so thought he'd head out to Manistique for more kayaking. After that, who knows?
He was such a character that he still pops into my mind now and then, and every time I think of him I pray a silent prayer that life is treating him kindly.
Wonder what this summer holds?
A nice transition. I realized that I never finished writing about last summer's alpha and omega journey: New York City followed by Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore in the upper part of lower Michigan.
Ah, Michigan. I never meant to fall for you. You were always the kid next door while I was growing up in Wisconsin. The other mitten state. We had our own north woods and Great Lakes so I didn't need you. But now that I've moved on and only have Lake Erie to cling to I find that the time we spend together means so much more.
I don't remember how we first discovered Sleeping Bear, but this was our second time there. The "bears" referred to are actually sand dunes. It's a gorgeous patch of dunes and Lake Michigan. I don't want to say too much more or else other people will want to go there.
There are three things I remember from this trip: boredom, the traditional rain while trying to break camp, and Regan from Muskegon.
First, the boredom. This was when it became painfully apparent that my kids were no longer content to just take in the sights, listen to birds, play in dirt, and relax. In fact, spending 24/7 with your parents in a place with no running water or electricity with only a fabric shelter to retreat to is probably the teen version of Hell.
It wasn't all pain and whining, though. I did get to spend some individual time with each girl during sunsets at the beach. Amelia and I went on a crazy rock hunt one evening. The next night Miriam and I skipped, or tried to, skip stones, whooping and high-fiving after each pathetic attempt. Amelia learned, much to her chagrin, what happens when you forget the sunscreen while wearing sunglasses. And the cool young park rangers, Zach and Sarah, kept things interesting.
And I have to mention the rain while breaking camp because it happens so often as to have become an integral part of the vacation experience. It goes like this: we have a beautiful couple of days camping somewhere, planning on packing up and moving on the next day. Sometime in the early hours of the morning we're leaving we hear a rumble of thunder, leading to a (usually futile) mad scramble to pack everything into the car before the tent gets wet. Then we drag our wet, disheveled selves to the nearest diner for breakfast. I'm not kidding, this has happened to us at least 5 times that I can think of. Joe's Diner in Honor, Michigan took good care of us this last time.
A highlight for me, however, was Regan from Muskegon. That's how he introduced himself. As in all camping, you take your chances with your neighbors. With nothing separating you from each other the quality of the neighbor impacts the overall camping experience. Our favorite campground at Sleeping Bear doesn't take reservations, so we were just happy (and lucky) to get a site, even if it was next to a chain-smoking guy who favored staying up at night by his campfire drinking beer (probably Bud Light) and listening to classic rock (Led Zeppelin/Rolling Stones era).
If he were a dog, Regan would be a golden retriever -- big, shaggy, and enthusiastically friendly. I figured him to be in his 50's. He was not tall, but big. Muscular (oak tree biceps), but paunchy. His tangled blond hair fell to his shoulders but he had a sizable bald spot. He favored wearing faded tank tops, shorts, and mirrored shades. He was the neighbor who would walk out and talk to you while you were walking by (which, truth be told, made us consider alternate routes to the outhouse).
He buttonholed me our first day there, I believe, while I was returning from my morning stumble to the rest facilities. He strode out to wish me good morning. Now, I'm not a self-conscious person upon rising, and I have no real problem strolling around in pajamas before completing the daily grooming. Regan made a good-natured jibe about my hair, then grabbed a nearby fork and proceeded to run it through his. He asked after the rest of the family, referring to us by name. Turns out he had talked to Tom the night before and had scrawled our names on a paper plate so he'd remember. While we were talking one of the ever present daddy-long-legs crawled up my shoulder. Regan grabbed it away and said he was adopting them as pets. He was going to name that one Jeff.
I was amused and somewhat charmed.
It was easy to remember his name because of the rhyme -- he's Regan from Muskegon. He had spent the past twenty plus years as a furniture salesman but this was the beginning of the economic downturn. Even though he had seniority and experience they laid him off. He also had recently separated from his wife of twenty some years. He was up here to kayak and gather his thoughts. He still had his house in Muskegon, but wasn't sure he wanted to return there, and it was a bad time to sell. He hadn't found new work, didn't know what he wanted to do, but knew unemployment was going to run out. A buddy had contacted him about going out west to be a rafting guide. He was considering it.
I think I recognized his state of mind. Somewhat. It makes me think of the last job I walked out on. No, not the nursing home. The law office. That job was a complicated psychodrama beyond going into here and one day I just walked out. It was only about 11am and I just walked out and climbed into my car without any clear idea of where I was going, just knowing I didn't belong in that office. As I turned the key in the ignition the radio turned on and Tom Petty's "Free Falling" was playing. I still consider that a magical moment. I felt I had jumped off a cliff.
Looking at Regan, I thought I saw some of that stomach-churning elation. He had lost everything that anchors a person and he was just going, casting his fates to the wind. He ran out of time at Sleeping Bear so thought he'd head out to Manistique for more kayaking. After that, who knows?
He was such a character that he still pops into my mind now and then, and every time I think of him I pray a silent prayer that life is treating him kindly.
Wonder what this summer holds?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)