My Civic Duty

(No, it's not updating this little thing. Nice thought, though.)

Once upon a time, I lived in a little house in St. Paul. By "Once upon a time", I mean "Since 2005". As in, my official government address has been this one for over two-and-a-half years now. This element will become interesting shortly.

Earlier this month, I received a phone call from my mother. "Oh, I sent you some papers in the mail that came to our house in Sleepy Eye," she told me at the end of our conversation. "I think one might be a jury summons."

A jury summons, eh? Well, why in the world would such an official document come to an address that is no longer listed on my state or federal tax returns, or at which I am no longer registered to vote?

Apparently, the United States Court, District of MN, is living in the past. The papers, when I opened them, proved to be the preliminary step in jury service: a survey determining a potential juror's qualifications. "Do you speak and understand English?" "Have you served on a federal jury in the last two years?" "Are you a resident of the state of Minnesota?" Yes, no, yes. Shoot - I'm qualified.

I corrected my address on the form and promptly threw it in to the mailroom at work. Hey, at least I saved a stamp; no postage necessary if mailed in the U.S. "All I can do is wait," I thought bitterly. "If my name is selected, I'll be on call as a petit or grand juror between September 2008 and August 2009, but at least I would only have to serve for two months. And, hey, 29,000 people received this survey, and only half will even end up in the pool. Maybe I'll be off the hook."

Then again, maybe not. I arrived home yesterday to find an intriguing piece of mail awaiting me. "Ramsey County District Court", read the return address. Come again?

That's right, another jury summons - TWO in just over two weeks. Random selection, my eye. Red ink ordered, "Report to the court on March 17. Fill out the survey below and return it in the envelope provided."

"Do you speak and understand English?" Check. "Are you over seventy?" Negative. "Have you served on a jury anywhere in Minnesota in the last four years? If so, when and where?" Umm...

"Court services," chirped the woman answering my call to the county government center.
I: "I have a question about jury service."
She: "Okay."
I: "I received a jury summons in the mail..."
She: "Yes."
I: "And I am filling out the survey..."
She: "Yes."
I: "And there's the question about whether I have served on a jury in Minnesota over the past four years..."
She: "Yes."
I: "Well, not two weeks ago I filled out a preliminary form for a U.S. District Court jury that would call me between September 2008 and August 2009, so how should I answer that question?"
She: "Yes."
I: "Yes? And for when and where I should say 'currently' and 'U.S. District Court, District of MN'?"
She: "Yes."
I: "Thanks. Oh, and I have another question. Your summons is for March 17, and I have a religious obligation that weekend. Would..."
She: "You don't need to worry about it. We're going to excuse you anyway."
I: "Okay, thank you."
She: "Have a nice day."

And thus in the span of five minutes was one-half of my civic duty charge fulfilled. Now, if I could only get my hands on the person who decided it would be funny to put me on two jury lists at the same time...

Non Sequitur

A conversation with a six-year-old on a schoolbus, emphasis original:

He: "At our block party last night, there was a police officer, and he showed us his gadgets!"
I: "Which one was your favorite?"
He: "He had a magic stick, that when you waved it it grew!"
I: "Oh, really?"
He: "And he had a gun that shoots electricity!"
I: "Wow. You wouldn't want to do anything wrong with that by you, would you?"
He: "I want to live in a castle."

A Blue Moon

Two things of note:

1) I am immensely sad to report that Better Meats is no more. The storefront is boarded up, and the company doubtless has moved on to pastures that are, if not the best, at least greener.

2) Two years of limping along for the old bloggity today. Terrible twos, no doubt. Here's to leaving the frequency of my writing perpetually mysterious.

Ruth-full

Merry merry merry merry merry.

A reemergence in the new year? We'll have to wait and see...

Mostest Superlative

Happiest of birthdays to the dearest of Jeffs!! Would that I could provide you with the most delicious of cakes and help you celebrate in the headiest of fashions. I hope it is a splendid one, my love.

Shiny Objects

The very first conversational exchange I remember clearly having with Meg happened in the spring of our freshman year. Two of my friends from high school, Caitlin and Mal, were visiting, and I had to drag them to a Collegium rehearsal in Sanders during which we spent minute after excruciating minute achieving the perfect concert standing positions. I had borrowed a pair of flip flops from Mal, white sandals with shimmering bands of silver spangles that threaded through my toes and across the top of my feet. I only recall this because Meg, a self-admitted magpie, glanced over at them and said, "I like your sandals."

I replied with a clever, "Thanks," and we haven't really stopped talking since. It's a good thing Meg likes shiny objects, since they paved the way for our friendship.

Happy golden birthday, Margaret Alice, and bestest wishes for a highly sparkly twenty-fifth year.

Feuding Hopalongs

As I stood in my darkened front yard this evening waiting for Ali to come and fetch her forgotten wallet, I spied a strange and surprising sight. In the middle of the residential street, two bunny rabbits began, well, catfighting. (Bunnyfighting?) They swiped their front paws at one another; one struck a glancing blow and the other leapt into the air. The two headstrong hares (HA!) kept at it for minutes on end, until interrupted by Ali's headlights. They reluctantly bounded onto the grassy island across from the house, where they started their fight anew.

I watched in shock for a moment longer, then walked inside, locked the door, and ate the head off of the hollow chocolate bunny that was left over from my Easter basket.