Justice Would NOT Be Served

I don't think I'd be a good juror. On any kind of trial. Why? I'll tell you why. But first, the backstory.

Ron got called for jury duty and was selected to be one of the Twelve Angry Men (actually, they do allow women to be jurors these days, so he was one of Five Angry Men and Seven Angry Women). The trial lasted two days. After the first day I peppered him with questions, but got no answers. Which made me even more determined to get something out of him. He went to bed at 7:30 just so he wouldn't have to listen to me. Not really, but I'm sure it crossed his mind more than once during the evening.

Last night when he got home he was allowed to tell me the details of the trial, but even then I wasn't satisfied. I kept asking him questions. And more questions. That's when I realized I'd be a bad juror. I'm sure I'd raise my hand and ask questions during the trial. Or at least I'd want to. And I don't think that would sit too well with anyone in the court room. I can't help it . I have an inquiring mind. And you know what they say about inquiring minds. We want to know. EVERYTHING!

I've Been Lately Thinking . . .

. . . about my life's times . . . That's the first line of John Denver's song, "Poems, Prayers and Promises" and pretty much mirrors my thought process over the past four or five days. On Saturday, Ron, Kate, Tyler, my mom and dad and I traveled to Jefferson City to a reunion for all the people who worked in the State Treasurer's office during my dad's tenure (1972-1980). It was a really wonderful time, seeing people we hadn't seen in nearly 30 years, laughing, crying, recalling fond memories, catching up. This is a picture of my dad (left) greeting Bill & Betty Crigler. I knew these people when I was a teenager and the impact they had on my life was not insignificant. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Dad had a group of really remarkable young men and women who worked for him; I did some calculating and most of them were in their mid- to late-20's when they were hired and they were on the front lines of handling millions and millions of dollars of the state funds and charting campaign strategies.

My friend, Michelle Able, and I used to hang out in the offices of Rick Ravenhill, Bob Jordan and Bob Holden (who eventually became Governor of Missouri) and shoot the breeze when we were really supposed to be doing legislative research for a high school class. The night my dad lost the primary election for the 1980 Governor's race, it was Bob Holden who came into my room, sat on my bed and comforted me as I was bawling about not having done enough during the campaign.

Hearing people talk about Dad at the reunion was especially touching and, I hope, gratifying to him. Every person who spoke testified to Dad's honesty, integrity and fairness, qualities that are sometimes in short supply when we think of our leaders today. The also spoke about the model he provided for the course of their lives. They talked about my mom's support and her generous spirit, which are still central to her character today. I've always known these things about my parents, but it was wonderful to hear that, after all these years, these people still have such high regard for them.

As I tried to corral my emotions on Sunday during the drive back, I realized how unique my growing up years were. How many people can really say that they really love their parent's colleagues from years gone by? How many people even knew their parent's colleagues? Going through multiple campaigns is not only grueling, but it's unifying as well. There's something very galvanizing about relentlessly pursuing a common goal; it's magnificent if it's reached and devastating if the effort falls short. Either way, friendships and bonds are made that last a lifetime and can truly stand the test of time.

A huge, huge blessing and remarkable privilege. That's MY life.

This Is SO Messed Up

Several weeks ago Ron had surgery on his nose. Not a big deal, about an hour's worth. He didn't have a room, didn't get a meal and he had to hold his own suction hose while the nurse was texting her boyfriend. Ok, that last part didn't happen, but I wasn't there - what if it DID?

Anyway, we got the bill for the hospital yesterday. Over ELEVEN THOUSAND dollars. Ok, so that's ridiculously insane, but it's not what made smoke start coming out my ears and nose. It's the fact that a "contractual adjustment" lowered the bill by almost EIGHT THOUSAND dollars. What the hell is that all about? I just don't get it. HeLLO-O. Maybe that's why the insurance industry and health care system is so jacked up. To the person who can explain this to me (to my satisfaction - that's the fine print) I will supply an apple pie every week for the rest of my life.

Seriously. What's that all about?

You Have GOT to Be Kidding Me!

Joke Number One
All of you people who have little children: forget about encouraging them to take up medicine or the law. Or missionary work or politics. What we need in this country (or at least what we need in this household) is a crackerjack IT person. Why? Because I will pay them eight million dollars for one house call if they can fix all my computer related problems. And I'll see to it personally that they are awarded a Nobel Peace Prize for Remarkable Achivement in Restoring A Crazy's Lady's Sanity.

Since I work from home, I purchased an ftp site (I think it stands for File Transfer Protocol - that's probably my first mistake - perhaps I should have learned a little about any extremely complicated and convoluted product on which I spent a not-so-little bundle of cash). It allows my clients to upload images to my computer so I can retouch, use for an album or whatever.

About six weeks ago, for no apparent reason, it quit working. Usually I can reset a couple of things and it's fine. Resetting a couple of things is pretty much the limit of my capabilities. When it gets beyond that, I give my friends at Globalscape (the company who sold me my ftp) a call and they magically get on my computer to fix whatever is broken. FIRST MISTAKE: Don't wait six weeks, because now I can't pinpoint what MIGHT have changed to discombobulate it. We narrowed it down to an update from our cable provider (Time Warner), renewing our Norton anti-virus protection, a security change we made to our Linksys wireless system, or that screwy face I made when I listened to a cd left in the car by Tyler. If it ends up being that screwy face I might as well just call it quits, because that face makes a daily appearance, for any number of reasons that I won't go into here.

Once it gets beyond the scope of my service techs at the Globalscape, I call for reinforcements, i.e. Ron Martin. He's the one who gets to talk to "Dan", who's no doubt sitting with his feet on the desk amidst a sea of cubicles located somehere in another hemisphere. Ron Martin is the one who's spent probably twelve hours this week (after he gets home from work) trying to get it figured out. I think he invented this "business trip" he's on right now just to avoid having to think like an IT guy for one second longer. THIS is just ONE of the reasons I love him. He takes on all the dirty jobs that tend to make my brain implode, at which point he'd have an even bigger mess on his hands.

So here's the joke. After spending all of these hours on the phone talking to four different companies, NO ONE is able to identify/solve the problem. They're too busy pointing fingers at the other guys to stop for a second to think "What if it IS something I'M responsible for?" I will say that my Globalscape guys are fantastic and if it was their problem they'd admit it. Time Warner was the worst. I was lying on Tyler's bed listening to the conversation Ron was having and I could actually hear the guy yelling at Ron. "Sir, that is NOT our problem. Call back never."

I'm thinking about starting a movement to return to the basics - like Sanskrit and papyrus.

Joke Number Two
Last night, after yelling at the cable people, we decided that perhaps sustenance might strengthen our brains (turns out that wasn't the case) so we headed out to get some take-home Chinese. And we got a near-death experience thrown in at no extra cost. BONUS! We were headed east on Johnson Drive, in the left-hand lane. Traffic was kind of backed up in the right-hand lane but we were cruising right along when all of the sudden we were up close and personal with a HUGE conversion van, which was making a left-hand turn out of a parking lot at SMNorth. Apparently the car in the right-hand lane had stopped to let this conversion van out, but the car being courteous was an SUV (curse word) so we didn't see this Green Monster barreling out of the parking lot. Ron slammed on the brakes (which worked really well) and I was thrown hard against my seat belt. The seat belt also worked really well, although I think my brain rattled around in my skull a little. It's a miracle we weren't rear-ended.

We drove another couple hundred feet and I was like "What is with this traffic?" It was 7:00 and Johnson Drive was bumper to bumper. Then a light went off. "Ron, what's the date?" Well, of course! Tax-Day and all of these dingdongs were going to the post office to mail their returns. It was really unbelievable. At the stoplight, we looked up the street towards the post office and I can't begin to explain it. Ok, I'll try. There's a four-way stop right before you get to the post office and all you could see was cars. Coming from every direction. Solid. It was kind of like a sci-fi movie. And people were driving like they were zombies - MUST. GET. TO. POST. OFFICE. POSTHASTE. DON'T. CARE. IF. I'M. IN. MIDDLE. OF. INTERSECTION. BLOCKING. TRAFFIC.

Go back to your night of the living dead.

The Irony of Reality

One morning last week as I stumbled into the bathroom I saw this on the floor in front of the stool, no doubt left by Ron for me to see. I couldn't help but giggle, roll my eyes and appreciate the fact that HE appreciates the humor in this.

"It's been my biggest fear, Arthur, that you would turn into your mother."

Ron's mom, Betty, was about the age he is now when I first met her. I thought they had done more than break the mold on her . . . I thought they'd pulverized it. But, no. Seems like they saved a bit of it for Ron. AT LEAST once a week I say, either outloud or to myself, depending on the occasion that warrants it, "You are JUST like your mom." And he is!

From nodding off during a lull in the conversation to not fully comprehending what "take your time" means to stirring the living daylights out of a pot of whatever, he's Betty through and through. He's even starting to LOOK like her, but so far I've not caught him sporting a feathered hat or pocketbook (although come to think of it, Betty didn't wear hats. She DID have a pocketbook, though). It's mainly his eyes.

Another thing of which Betty was a master was having an answer for EVERYTHING. I'm not kidding. And she was pretty convincing about it. I'm not sure if she would be considered a master bluffer or a master bull you-know-what-er. Ron's the same way. Now, he knows a lot of stuff, like all the fouls in a basketball game or a hockey game. And how to rewire electrical fixtures. I think I know a lot of random things. He knows a lot of random random things. The only difference between him and his mom is that I'll call him out on some of his wildly exotic answers, but usually only if it's a matter of life and death - like when he says he doesn't really need to kill the power when he's rewiring things.

Betty's been gone about four and a half years. I really miss her, but it's kind of like she's still really here. And sleeping next to me in our bed.

ROCK.CHALK.JAY.HAWK.

I'm a Missouri gal, through and through. Born there. Raised there. Dad got his doctorate at MU. Brother graduated from MU. Didn't move to Kansas until I was 26. Dad nearly cut me out of his will when we "defected" and still says the air smells funny.

But, dang. The ONLY reason I don't watch college basketball on a regular basis is because of exactly what happened tonight. It's a good thing my nails are really as hard as nails because my fingers would be bloody stubs.

Woo HOO!

Rites of Passage

On Friday, Ron and I went to Emporia to look for an apartment for Tyler next year. The first one he took us to see was, in a word, detestable. I still can't believe the apartment manager thought it was a good idea to show us this particular apartment. First of all, two guys were living in it. All of the blinds were pulled so it was dark, which actually might have been a good thing. I might have been able to see crawling things had there been any ambient light. The kitchen was on one wall of the apartment and was completely and utterly disgusting. The television looked like the "pause" button had been pushed and there was a wild-haired scary man glaring at us. And he was flipping the bird. Nice. The toilet tank was missing its lid and I couldn't see the carpet in the bedroom because there were clothes over every square inch. We didn't stay long. The only redeeming quality of the place is that it's right across from campus. Moving right along . . .

The second place, compared to the first, was a Garden of Eden. The manager, a nice grandmotherly woman named Ethel, lives on the property, which was a real plus for Ron and I. The apartment we looked at was not a "show" apartment, but just a normal one that was empty. And it was really nice. Clean carpet, freshly painted walls, a proper kitchen (although pretty tiny) and a good sized bedroom with a deck off of it. And a toilet with all of the parts in place. And we could get a nine month lease. SOLD! We left a deposit so next year Tyler will have his own place. Sometime later I realized that neither Ron nor I have ever lived on our own. There's a saying (I think it's from the 50's): I went from my father's house to the sorority house to my husband's house. That's totally me. I'm just glad Tyler will have this opportunity to spread his wings (but not TOO much!).

When we arrived home I was upstairs when I heard Ron yell, "Guess what I got in the mail?" Drumroll please . . . he'd gotten an application for AARP (American Association of Retired Persons, I think). Yes, Ron will be 50 next month. Much to my surprise he didn't sound that devastated. Come to find out he's excited as heck to get the discounts that come with the membership. In his eyes I could two little flashing "Lowe's" signs.

So, if you call us between 4:00 and 5:00 p.m. and we don't answer it's because we're taking advantage of the early bird dinner specials at Bob Evans. Time marches on . . .

The "J" Word

In the last two days I've heard "Jesus" mentioned multiple times in prime time TV. And I have to say a fervent "Amen" to that!

Last night, on "American Idol," Dolly Parton served as the contestant's mentor for the week. I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about the availability of good songs from Dolly's songbook. I was, however, pleasantly surprised. Not being a huge Dolly fan from a musical standpoint, I realized that the only songs I really knew were "Nine to Five" and "Islands in the Stream." At least three of the songs had direct Jesus references and most of the others definitely had a spiritual undertone.

Then, tonight, a group called the Clark Brothers did a ramped up version of "This Little Light of Mine," which was awesome. And Dolly sang a song about Jesus and gravity.

Later in the evening, I watched a re-run of "Oprah" (this is where I always add the disclaimer that I don't usually watch Oprah . . . I don't know why I do this. Probably because I want people to think I'm doing something much more significant than watch afternoon TV?). She had two families on whose daughters were both involved in a car accident a couple of years ago. The girls' identities were mistakenly switched; one family buried who they thought was their daughter, but in reality she was in a coma, being cared for by the family of the girl who really died. It put me through the wringer! When asked how they managed to move through this heart-wrenching ordeal, both families said it was their faith and the knowledge and assurance of the work done by Jesus on the cross - and the forgiveness that we receive through that work - was what they relied on. I was really blown away by their boldness and conviction. Another "amen."

Oh, yeah. This has nothing to do with the "J" word . . . I got all ready to watch "Emma" on Masterpiece Theater that I dvr'd a couple of weeks ago and found out that I'd really taped a whole show on menopause. Talk about a disappointment! But, I watched it anyway. All I can say about it is my family is in for a real treat . . .

It's 2PM and This Is All I've Done Today

Oy! Double oy! I've been wanting to put my own spin on the blog layout for quite some time now, but I'm just an idiot when it comes to real tech-y stuff. I found a "skin" I loved but apparently it's not yet compatible with blogger, so this one I created in PhotoShop will have to do for the time being.

More later . . .