Fulfilling my Civic Duty (maybe?)

Dun, dun, dun....I've been called for....JURY DUTY!

Ahh!

I have been summoned for jury duty exactly three times in my lifetime. To date I have served on exactly 0 trials. The first time that weighty little letter showed up I was about 22 years old, and, while nervous as 'all-get-out' after dialing the phone-in line, I was relieved of my duty: the trial had been cancelled.

The second time I was summoned was during my year-long leave of absence (read: when I was a S.A.H.M. to my Peanut and Chubbers). Due to the sensitive nature of my living situation (read: heavily lactating-mommy moo-cow who was nursing a 20lb. Chublet every 3 hours), I was able to decline to fulfil my Civic Duty.

It is always said that the "third time is the charm", and with that in mind, this past October, I received my third offical summons to appear as a juror in service of our magnificent American justice system. Unfortunately, at work, I was heavily inundated with offical State business (yet another fun audit or the like...honestly, I can't remember what legal-ish situation was going on, but it was something high-stakes (apparently) or else I wouldn't have been able to defer...) so I was able to postpone my summons until a later time.

Being the industrious little worker-bee that I am, I looked at my handy-dandy calendar and marked which bank holidays occurred in which months, and I zeroed in on February as my choice of month to commit myself to my Duty. Why February, you ask? Well, it is the month with the fewest bank holidays/inservices/out of the office days, of course. And, if I'm going to get stuck doing something I don't particularly want to do, I might as well do it and have a day out of the office, in a month where there are few days away, while I do it. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I thought so too.

So, here in my post box this afternoon what was I to find? I found the Safeway weekly mail insert (yuck--who cares, the poor slaughtered trees and environmental waste is what always pops into my brain), a Discover card advert (who cares? Aren't Americans, as a rule, entirely too far in debt? Isn't the Fed, as we speak, working on contriving a way to keep us out of a recession due to our overzealous spending habits and the poor investment choices of people with NO CREDIT have made? Isn't coroporate America crying 'poor, poor, poor, me...save me! while our Leader has (thank GOD) resolutely refused to dole out yet another form or corporate welfare...aherm...climbing down off the soap-box now). And, tucked neatly between the glorious waste of paper in my box, you guessed it, my Jury summons.

Should prove to be interesting, at the least. I wonder if I will wind up not being needed, as before. Or, will I get stuck on some sort of O.J.-esque media circus where I'll be sequestered (detained, Northern Korean prisoner-of-war style) in a swanky hotel, away from all outside influences and my precious family?

Who knows.

I call into the automated response system on February 24th to see if I will be needed on the 25th.

Wish me luck.

Just Ducky...so, why be normal?

Go Big Green!

Why be normal? A snowman is just a snowman, but a with a mohawk, he just rocks!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

Enjoying a snow day...

Angst takes a plume and scratches feverishly upon the digital parchment

Tonight I had a lovely phone call with my father, who resides (currently, as in during this season) in Florida. My entire family lives there. I am the lone loony tune on the west coast--or am I? Our phone conversation was exactly one hour, two minutes, and forty-three seconds long. A world record conversation, when it comes to my father--whom, incidentally, when in this state will drive 1.5 hours to my home, talk to me for ten minutes, give me a hug, and leave. Yes, he is rather eccentric. I know no one like that.

At any rate, one of the gambits of conversation rested upon my brother, and upon further interrogation, my nephew: Steven. Ah, Steven. I rarely (if ever) use first names here, due to respect of privacy and the ever present specter of the digital world that threatens to haunt us--should we dare utter something incoherent (I frequently do) or worse something not politically correct. Lord knows, anything in history that has wound up in some sort of public medium finds a way of rising from its musty grave of some twenty-odd years or more, and challenging the speaker's credibility--as if we aren't entitled to change our opinion, or become more evolved and more sentient beings as we age. I digress.

My nephew, Steven, and I are only 5 years apart in age. Yes, my brother is nearly 17 years my senior. In a nutshell, without going into particulars, my family has become estranged from my nephew. He has chosen to take his anger toward his father (my brother) out on the entire family, and has eclipsed reason and decided that his father did him wrong, ergo so have I. It is fallacious thinking, but alas, he is only human. I try not to hold it against him. I try.

It has been hard for B.J. and I because over the years, we have tried to reach out to Steven, include him in our lives, and entreat him to allow us into his life. He would make a few baby-steps toward that end, but then forget to follow through with his end of the deal: take our calls, allow us to see him. At any rate, it is difficult (at best) to try to stay in touch with someone who does not wish to be in touch with you. And so, times went by. Two years, as a matter of fact. And within that two years we find that Steven has had a son, Kade. We missed out on 2 years of his sweet little life. Despite our best efforts (could I have tried harder? I will be honest: yes.) Steven, and now his son Kade, slip through our fingers and are lost to the ever shifting sands of time. We hear nothing...nothing...cannot find them...then they show up! A merciful, wonderful, reunion! We are allowed to have a glimpse at Kade and Steven's life.

Fast forward, again, two years. Steven has made us 'persona non grata' and we have not been in his universe. Not, until I get the horrifying phone call last January (2007) that Kade has been killed. We are devastated. We were denied access to his precious life while he was living, and due to poor choices and (somewhat mysterious) occurrences, he is deemed an 'accidental death'. I rush to Steven, as he has finally allowed us to cleave to him in his darkest hour. We weep, he professes his errors, and we forgive him with open heart and arms.

Again, the sands of time bury him, his addictions, afflictions, and misery. He is lost to us. My heart and soul ache for him. He doesn't know what he does, and I cannot change him. I can only sit by quietly, offering my open arms, and should he choose to run to his family, to me, and clasp him to my breast and tell him that I would choose to never let him go. I cannot change someone unwilling to change. I can forgive him, but I cannot make him forgive himself, his father, or his ways. I must wait.

This evening, while talking to my father, I find out that Steven has surfaced, again. And, again, he has another child. A two-year-old boy. I do not even know this child's name. I am so angry, so broken. How I wish he would grow-up, wake-up, 'get over it,' or whatever it is he has to do to see that, yes, he has a genuine right to be angry at his father. He has a right to be pissed off at his father. My brother was wrong, did wrong, and continues to do wrong. I cannot change that. Steven cannot change that. He is old enough now to realize that I am not his father. His grandfather is not his father. We are here to love him. We want him, good, bad, ugly, addicted, unloved. We want his son. He is family.

Do we lose another precious baby to time, anger, and hatred? Does Steven have the right to deny his son his heritage? His family? Does he? I cannot imagine another loss so profound as this, short of losing my own children. I am so angry. Incensed. Yet, do I have a right to my anger? I do not know. I am sure some would say I have no right to be angry, and that I am being selfish, and immature. You're right: I am selfish. I want my family. So many today simply cast off that which they do not want, that which does not acquiesce to their wishes, and ways. And, as I say this I think, directly, of my brother. But he will face his own sins in this life, as will I. Do we suffer another Kade? Do we live our lives and let time go by, without ever being present? What do I do? I know he is approximately one hour south of where I live. One hour. Yet, the gulf that divides us is more vast than the Marianas Trench, the rings of Saturn are closer than they.

Blood is thicker than water.

Tragedy sent this bright, curious, much-loved boy, Kade, Home far too soon. Will we miss out on his half-brother's life, the way that his all-too-brief little life was lost to us? I sincerely hope not.

And, yet, I wait. With prayers and patience, I wait...

...bon anniversarie a moi, and another random quote.

Stolen from the siggy of an email forward:

I'm experiencing deja vu and amnesia at the same time. I have the feeling I've forgotten this before.

Yep. Pretty much sums up my life experience. Who knew? It is possible for me to be succinct (even if it is plagiarism!).

Hope you all have a scrumptious weekend. B.J. has something 'FUN' (his words) planned for Saturday, the day I hit the big _-_ ! (No, I will not indulge you on which two-digit birthday we are speaking of, but I'll give you a hint, the second digit is a 0.)

Wish me luck on my birthday fête--who knows if B.J.'s idea of fun will mesh with my own...

Always busy, always excuses...

It has been a while since I have sat down to post. I'm just too busy. I've been organizing the house (and cleaning--a lot), working on other projects, and exceedingly busy at work (let's just say I finished a fun 'dog and pony show' for a very intimidating suit from the state. Yech!).

Here's a brief (or as brief as I'm capable of) synopsis of the last 3 weeks:

Mission New Lifestyle:

Week 1: Struggled like crazy to keep my caloric intake within approximately 1,500 calories per day. I was constantly starving (though, it never looked like it), and wanted to eat everything in sight. Especially around my bad time of day (3-5pm).

Weight lost: 5.5lbs. Yay!

Week 2: Still struggling to keep my calories to about 1,500. Discovered I have to have a sweet treat in the evenings. If I don't have this treat I think I will die. Skinny Cow makes good treats that are reasonable calorically speaking and yummy enough to 'do.' Healthy Choice fudge bars also fill the bill, and, they're sold in super-mega-bulk packaging at Costco. Oh, how I love Costco.

Weight lost: 0. Zilch. Nada. I felt pretty bummed, but I figured, " Hey! It could have been worse, you could have gained. " Isn't it the second week on 'Biggest Loser' that they always have small numbers? Hmm...

Week 3: Getting easier to keep my calories in the 1,500 range. Also getting easier to plan. I find I am obsessing a little less about food. Weighing every morning is very motivating. I have also started trying to do a long walk a few times a week. Saturday, B. and I walked 5+ miles. It kicked my butt, and I hobbled around like an old lady because my hips ached. Ugh. But, hey, I got moving. Funny, how after a fairly sedentary 15 or so years, your body protests when you actually decide to move. I have discovered if I drink a lot of water and make sure that I have a small (+/- 100 calories) snack every morning around 10 am I do much better. I still feel like one of Dan Akroyd's cone head characters from the movie THE CONE HEADS "...must consume mass quantities." But, it is getting better.

Weight lost: 2.5 lbs.

Overall, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. I'm beginning to create some new habits (good ones, for a change), and my new lifestyle is feeling less restrictive. I'm getting the fat addiction out of my system, and even as I type, I am anticipating taking an hour long walk in the sunshine (while we have it!). I find that it is becoming rewarding to move and see some small results. Already, with only 8 pounds lost, I feel my clothing fitting a bit more loosely, and I'm looking forward to when I will be able to donate it to a charitable organization--because I'm never going back.

Keep your fingers crossed for me. I am going to do it this time, but a little extra help never hurt.

...because he's a geek. And I love him.

I'm posting this picture of B.J.'s car on my blog because he has to have a geeky avatar on his testosterone-my-intake-works-better-than-your-turbo-exhaust-chipped-tweeker-car website. And, he's experiencing 'technical difficulties'.

Tcha!

These people and their geeky Internet obsessions. It's like they have nothing in life to do but be tied to the digital umbilical. Yeah. What-ever. I'll never understand that kind of behavior.