cindy's world

The 88 prospective jurors today are way whinier than our remarkably cooperative 91 jurors last Monday. Monday’s panels were so great that we already swore in 12, we just need to find our 3 alternates from that panel. Today, instead of 90, we started with 85 because some just failed to appear, and others whined their way out with doctor’s notes claiming anxiety, and get this, “cough and headache.” One elderly juror just announced that she was here on trial 3 years ago before us on another case. “How’d I do?” my judge asked her. “Very well,” she replied cordially. “Thank you. That’s the right answer,” my judge said to the laughter of the courtroom.

Despite my grumbling about certain aspects of this job, it’s interesting when I consider how badly I really, truly wanted this job before it was mine. Weren’t we all like that? All of us who complain about coming to work in the mornings, who gripe about a day “ruined” by having to get up too early to sit in a cubicle/office/courtroom or to visit clients on the field, didn’t we all at one point beg the stars audibly or inaudibly, “Please, please PLEASE lemme get this job! Please like me after the interview! Please give me a call-back! I am SO RIGHT for this job, I SO WANT this job!” ?

Funny, ain’t it?

One of my most prized possessions in grade school was a pretty large Fisher Price dollhouse. It opens up and you can move the little plastic dolls around the children’s bedroom area, a kitchen/dining area, living room area, and a parents’ master bedroom area. There was also a side garage with a blue door that slid up to open, and a yellow plastic car with 2 holes to plop the dolls of your choice in for a ride, and a smiling dog doll. The back of the garage served as a doghouse entrance. On the house itself were cartoon pictures of things, like shrubbery, curtains, flowerbeds on windowsills, birds. The drawn kitchen window, as seen from outside the house, depicts a cartoon mom smiling and waving from what is presumably the sink. There may have even been a pie cooling off on the windowsill. I played with this house endlessly, charmed by the ways my characters could interact, even ring the doorbell by flicking a small plastic lever that’d spring back up to hit a resonating bell. The characters were always smiling and they always got along. I knew it was unrealistic, and I loved it.

Today, after purchasing my new $93 New Balance stability-inducing running shoes at A Snail’s Pace, I decided to break them in by wearing them to visit my parents. Mr. W had suggested we visit them first and then come back to his place for a short (3 mile) run so I don’t blister when I train in them. When I pulled up to my parents’ house in the evening, my dad was to our left watering the front lawn, and I lowered the window, said, “Hi dad!” and he waved at us. As we waved back, I giggled at how Fisher Price this felt, my dad watering the lawn, smiling and waving at his daughter and her boyfriend, who are smiling and waving back pulling into the driveway. It’s the classic Lego/Barbie depiction of “life.” We got out of the car, walked to my dad, and chatted about the trees. I decided to take Mr. W around the backyard since there’s been considerable changes made since I’d last been out there maybe 10 years ago. My dad walked with us watering all the leafy fruit trees, telling us what each one was. Lime grafted with palmelo, white peach grafted with some other thing I’d forgotten, 3 types of guavas, kumquats grafted with another type of kumquat, and then we rounded the side of the house to the back of the house. “Eh??” I heard coming from the kitchen window. My mom was standing there, presumably doing dishes, looking surprised to see us. “Hi mom!” I waved. “Hi!” she waved back. I giggled again. We walked around the garden looking at the other stuff, the veggies on the other side of the yard, squash, tomatoes, and the gourds hanging from the rafters, some so large they nearly hit Mr. W on the head. My mom came out and talked about the neighbor’s figs. Fresh figs? My mom took us to the other side of the yard and pointed out the neighbor’s fig tree, heavy with large drops of deep purple fruit. Apparently this neighbor can’t get rid of the figs fast enough and constantly invites my parents to help themselves. So Mr. W and I leaned down the slope and picked some fresh figs. They were delicious, soft and syrupy inside. My mom made won ton soup for us and we sat around the dinner table chatting and eating. Then, as my parents left to my aunt’s house to return some DVDs in their weekly Chinese soap opera exchange, Mr. W and I set off for a walk around my parents’ hilly neighborhood as we were now too full to run. First we explored a newly built fancy senior citizen’s recreation center up on a nearby park at the top of a hill. As we strolled along the perimeter, my parents drove by on their way to my aunt’s and I heard my mom’s playful higher-pitched chirp, “Hello!” We waved at them as my mom’s extended waving arm disappeared around the bend. I giggled again. A walk that takes my parents 40 minutes took us over an hour. I was pretty proud of them. It was not an easy walk, definitely very slopey. I didn’t blister at all, and I think I broke those shoes in. After unloading soy milk, yogurt, fruit, crackers, an oven mit, and some Chinese bath salt paste on me, my parents walked us out the garage and we were off.

This evening, in addition to the early afternoon spent napping (I took like 3 naps today, and I don’t normally nap at all), watching interesting shows on TV and Inside Man on DVD, and eating freshly made guacamole, homemade oatmeal-butterscotch cookies, and Ben & Jerry’s “Vermonty Python” ice cream (I just learned that Ben & Jerry’s only uses milk/cream from cows not treated with growth hormones, cool!) made for a relaxing, happy day. Perfectly in contrast to the chaos that will be tomorrow as I go into work to play with the 90 new prospective jurors we’re supposed to pick 15 people from for the 2nd jury of our 4-defendant, dual jury murder trial.

The sky was cloudier till later this morning, making the day cooler overall. Even when the white gave way to blue, the winds that played with my hair kissed me with coolness. A car salesman shook my hand as Mr. W and I strolled by, greeting me as “Smiley.” The man and I walked about the neighborhood for almost an hour and wandered through the many blocks of car dealerships displaying their colorful mechanical wares like an exotic bazaar. Bargaining was going on around us, but we were content with just the air slipping through our fingers of one hand with the other’s hand in the other. Commenting on the different cars, appearances, gas mileage, improvements (or not) over the years, we ended the talk on how all that is needed to feel content sometimes is a walk in the sunshine with your loved one, and a breeze to dry your sweat off.

This morning at 5:30 a.m. I got up and dragged Mr. W on a run. 4 miles down, 10 more to go. *faint* True to tradition, every time I add a mile, I get a new blister. That’s only 1o more blisters by mid-September. *faint*

When I was in judicial assistant training class 7 years ago and we had to memorize all our oaths, the trainers told us that we were all going to have times we blunder our oaths, say the wrong oath, forget our oaths in the middle of recitation, etc. I thought, “Heck, that’s not gonna be me. I’m prepared.” And I had all the oaths well memorized.

In the real professional world, because we always have our oath cue cards (mine were written out on 3×5 inch index cards), we don’t say them all from memory. My personal tendency is to glance at the card to get rolling, and then I roll the rest of the oath from memory.

Today, about 40 minutes ago, I was coming in the front doors of the courtroom from letting in our 91 jurors (I’d just done orientation w/them outside in the hall), and I was still walking to my desk when the judge told them all to stand to be sworn. Rushing to my desk, I reach into the cubbyhole I keep my oath cards and…empty. I had a quick panic. They had us/me cover so many courts in the last couple of weeks that I have no idea where I’d taken those cards. I whispered toward the bench, “Your honor, I can’t find my oath cards, so I’m gonna TRY to do this from memory.” He said confidently, “All right.”

I did not deserve that confidence. I stumbled through the first few words, hoping it’d come back to me, but the thing with long memorized strings of words is that unless the first few words are correct, it doesn’t cue the rest of the words. So I stopped the stuttering, and said to my judge, “I’m sorry, I need my oath cards.” He said okay and then instructed the 91 jurors to please remain standing until they’re sworn. ACK! I madly called the last department I was in that I could’ve taken the oath cards to. No answer. I looked at my reporter and said hopefully, “Do you have a hot key for that oath?” (so that her machine would transcribe that oath without her having to type everything in) She doesn’t have a key programmed for that particular oath. I tried typing it out on MS Word hoping that writing it without the pressure of saying it would bring those words back to me. It didn’t work.

“Oh, I have it in a transcript,” my reporter said, and darted off to her office. Meanwhile, 91 jurors still stood and stared, judge sat there in the uncomfortable silence, 2 defendants, 2 defense attorneys, a district attorney, and 2 bailiffs did I don’t know what cuz I was too busy still trying to type out the oath to look at them. I thought I got it, and said hopefully to the judge that I think I have it, he said great, let’s wait for the reporter to return, and then I realized I DIDN’T have it after all. She returned with a transcript, flipped a few pages, and said, “Oh, it’s not on this transcript. Wait, lemme get another one.” She darted off again. I tried calling another clerk to borrow her oaths, but then my reporter walked in triumphantly with a thick transcript turned to the correct page.

As she ran back to her transcription machine, I turned to the 91 jurors and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a demonstration of Murphy’s Law. This has never happened before.” They laughed and relaxed. I read the first 13 words of the oath and the rest was clearly recited from memory as I never looked down again, so they were probably wondering why I couldn’t have done that earlier.

“Do you, and each of you, understand and agree that you will accurately and truthfully answer, under penalty of perjury, all questions propounded to you concerning your qualifications and competency to serve as trial jurors in the matter now pending before this Court, and that failure to do so may subject you to criminal prosecution?”
“I do.”
“Is there anyone who does not or can not agree to this oath? No response. Thank you, please be seated.”

Jury selection went on, I called another courtroom I may have left the cards in, and that clerk said there was no such cards on her desk. I ran to the clerk next door and borrowed her oath print-outs, which are outdated, but I knew them well enough to revamp them, and then I re-wrote all the oaths out on index cards. Meanwhile my gym trainee had emailed me and asked if I was going to the gym today. I emailed back:

I don’ tknow yet. still trying to live down one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened in my professional career here, and of ocurse it has to happen in front of 91 jurors during our 4-deft trial.,

You can tell how flustered I am by the quantities of my typos. My trainee is going to take me out for lunch instead. Cuz what I need is a drink to help me slur through the rest of the day.

I did more gut spilling last nite. Didn’t feel much better. Didn’t sleep well until the early morning hours, when I dreamt I was arrested in Mexico for making a left turn on a red light, and the jail cafeteria lady (who was an older Asian) offered me grilled talapia for dinner in jail.
***
Said to him this morning in a goodbye hug, “Don’t hate me because I’m crazy.”
Him: (laughing) I don’t hate you! I love you because you’re crazy.
Me: I’m not crazy, you jackass!!
***
Vicky told me last night to not give up my dreams just because of one bad weekend. So I’m probably not going to buy the car. Unless I just really, really want it after 3 weeks. She also thinks the nagging sinking nausea will pass and I’m just going through something because of environmental factors and/or recent developments around me. If she’s right it’d make things easier. At least temporarily.
***
I have a bad stress habit of picking on my heels. I was so stressed that last night I even picked my heels in my dream.
***
I’m wearing more makeup than normal today. It’s what I do when I’m forcing myself to feel better. I have to feel better today, because today is day 1 of our 4-defendant, dual jury month-long murder trial. We’re picking the “red” panel of jurors today for 2 of the 4 defendants, and I have to orient 91 jurors soon. Monday we’re picking the “blue” panel of jurors for the other 2 defendants out of a different 90 jurors, and after that jury selection will be a juggling act between the 2 panels. But that’s nothing compared to keeping the exhibits straight, i.e. keeping the evidence that only goes to 1 panel separate from the other panel, tracking which exhibits can be viewed by both panels. So anyway, this morning the perfect song was playing on KIIS FM, Ryan Seacrest’s morning show:

from “Sexy Back”
Justin Timberlake

[Verse 1]
I’m bringing sexy back (yeah)
Them other boys don’t know how to act (yeah)
I think you’re special what’s behind your back (yeah)
So turn around and I’ll pick up the slack. (yeah)

The Cancer horoscope for today reads:

“Your mental faculties continue to be razor sharp now. You have absorbed everything with precision and have successfully withheld your feelings about what’s happening. Today you must say what’s on your mind, as terrifying as that sounds. Don’t let an opportunity slip by without doing something about it. Things won’t improve until you stir up the waters.

Thursday, August 10, 2006”

I saw it after returning from a lunch break during which I’d let spill the emotional driving mechanism behind my sudden impulse for a non-essential luxury car purchase this past weekend. At least getting this horoscope kinda makes me feel like I’d done the right thing in retching my wretched guts out at lunch.

The amazing part is, I don’t feel too miserable for having done that.

I picked up another letter this morning (delivered yesterday) from our psychic solicitor, Miss Elizabeth. It is the exact same letter as last time. I opened it and looked all the contents and little notes over, just in case Miss Elizabeth had gotten a second and more urgent prompting from the archangel Michael to help me. Nope. Even the opening is the same. Apparently at 9:30 p.m. this past Tuesday night as well, I’d unconsciously cried out in despair for help. In reading this, I even briefly entertained the possibility that the first letter was clairvoyant and premature and THIS letter was a real response to my actual dilemma. So let’s see… when was I emotionally distraught this past week? I believe it was Sunday night. Tuesday night at 9:30 p.m., I was bored to heck watching V for Vendetta with Mr. W in his living room, and around that time would’ve been when I’d given up on the movie and gone to take a shower, whereas Mr. W was still intrigued in the darkness of all the unsympathetic characters. So yeah, strike 2, Miss E. And it again reaffirms my earlier decision not to believe all the mumbo jumbo scare tactics she used in her letter to con money out of me. My spirit guide speaks louder than her letters claiming she rubs elbows with archangels.

I must be on 2 separate mailing lists she bought, or maybe my name appears differently so it looks like 2 different people. Like maybe one had a middle initial on it or something. Or maybe a higher power simply answered a question I had — how many people does she send this to, and are all the letters exactly the same? Apparently, she sends out tons of these and yes, they’re all the same.

Coincidentally or ironically, I also got notification in my email this morning that someone had commented (can’t tell if it’s spam) on the original post about Miss Elizabeth’s letter. I’ve left that comment up on that post.

I’m still in the busy criminal court today. I have to say, it certainly does make me feel productive. I didn’t work thru lunch again, tho. I went and ran a 5K with hills, because I wouldn’t be able to run after work. I’m going to Vanessa’s place after work to meet her new kittens, and she emailed me that she’d already told the kitties that their Auntie Cindy is coming to visit them and they’re looking forward to it. I gotta see them before they get too big. After visiting kitties, we’re going to belly dancing.

Sometimes I really like my life. =)

Now back to work.

My entire staff is taking over for a busy criminal calendar courtroom today and tomorrow, since that entire staff is on vacation (except the bailiff, who’s here with my bailiff running the guys who are in custody). Mr. W had a lunch shabang that he’d invited me to twice before, and I’d been unsure but I turned it down now that I’m so busy and I may have to work thru lunch. I figured that if I can get enough work done before lunch, I’d join my coworkers for their usual Tuesday lunch out. A retired coworker who drives down weekly for this lunch had emailed everyone to say that she would come out to meet us, and I wrote back that if I’m not too busy, I’d meet them. Before lunch, I got a call from Mr. W asking if I’d be able to join him and his lunch crew. I said no, we were still on the record. But some time went by and I had made some progress, so I walked out to meet my coworkers. They weren’t out there. I called the retired coworker and she said, “You didn’t get my email?” Turned out she’d written me back to cancel lunch due to many people’s unavailability for lunch today, and I didn’t get the email cuz I was so busy in here that I didn’t see it. I didn’t bring my workout bag to go to the gym, either. So I just came back inside to work and blog thru lunch. Yay, fun.

On the brighter side of things, yesterday evening’s run felt good. I’m getting more optimistic about my ability to run the Disneyland half. On the darker side of things, the sun was bright and beaming at 7am this morning, so if it stays like this till the run, I’d be miserable running in direct sunlight.