This Looks Familiar

Yesterday morning we decided to take a drive. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. We droved to Flat Rock, N. C. and Hendersonville, N. C. Both are touristy towns that feature many art galleries and pottery stores, and Flat Rock boasts a famous playhouse.

We then traveled on a few more miles to Asheville, N.C. I really like this part of the country. I wouldn’t mind living there.

Downtown is busy, busy, busy! There are offices, restaurants, art galleries, and tourists taking in the sights. Traffic was quite heavy. There has been a lot of renewal going on, and it’s quite nice.

We were a little turned around so we stopped to program Ms. TomTom for a little help getting  back on the interstate. Ms. TomTom took us through a neighborhood that we had visited once before—Hookerville  (See Post of Nov. 13, 2010). There it was—the abandoned gas station where the ladies plied their trade in front of God and everybody. Thankfully, it seems they start working later than 11:00 am on weekdays.

I don’t quite understand how we managed to end up there again. We didn’t start out anywhere near where we had been the first time Ms. TomTom calculated our route to the interstate. H-m-m. It’s a puzzle.

Consequences of Citizenship

Once again I have been summoned for jury duty. I have been called to service several times in our city court which handles mostly traffic infractions and the occasional misdemeanor. I have also served as a juror in the university court. They handle infractions that happen on campus--drinking, disturbing the peace, etc. I have served in the county court in a civil matter. There is only one other juror list that I’m aware of and that’s the summons I received Friday. I have an invitation to appear in Federal District Court in June.

At first I thought, before reading the summons, that I was expected to serve in Columbia, SC. That’s a 2 1/2 drive from our house. I was beside myself thinking of all the problems that would cause. When I finally had a chance to read the entire packet, I saw that I’m being asked to appear in Greenville which is only 25 miles away. Still it’s not something I really want to do.

I have never tried to duck this civic responsibility. I’ve found it interesting. Something tells me that in Federal Court whether the case being heard is civil or criminal, it could be deadly dull. I wouldn’t be too interested in listening to a financial fraud case or insider trading.

In the local courts you may asked to be excused if you are over 65 years old. In Federal Court, you have to be 70 to request to be excused. Darn!

As I began to fill out the questionnaire to begin the process, I was wondering how I could answer the questions without lying but perhaps leading to my exclusion.

Question: “Describe the condition of your health:” 

Answer: “"Fair”

Question: “Medical Problems”

Answer: “Diabetes, High Blood Pressure, aching knees, hips, shoulders, elbows, ankles, faulty memory and various other minor afflictions attendant upon persons of my age.”

Question: “Are you a member of MADD, CAVE, or any organization that supports the rights of victims?”

Answer: “No, but I could change my party affiliation to the Republican party if that would get me out of jury duty.”

Question: (This is a real question asked.) “Have you displayed any bumper stickers on your automobile in the last 12 months?”

Answer: “Vote for Santorum,” “Vote for Obama,” “Green Peace,” “Women’s Rights,” “ACLU Sucks.” Okay, this would be a lie, but it might make them think I’m nuts.

The one question and answer that may insure my disqualification is: “Have you or anyone in your family ever worked for a lawyer or law firm?”

Answer: “Yes. I was so employed.”

Of course, I gave factual answers to all the questions instead of the answers I wanted to use. It’s possible that I will be learning more about financial skullduggery or medical malfeasance than I ever wanted to know. I can only hope for an interesting bank robbery case.

Decisions To Be Made

Well, it worked. (See previous post.) The only problem is that I can’t edit the post after it appears on the blog. I suppose that in order to post directly with Blogger or to edit a post, I must use “Chrome.”

Somehow that rankles. I was forced to have a gmail account when Google took over a few years ago. I didn’t want a gmail account. I don’t care for how it works, and I only use it for crap stuff.  I don’t like the idea of Google encroaching on my life any more that it already has. I very seldom use Google for anything other than Blogger and Google maps. I seldom use it as a search engine.

Now I have to decide if I want to be blackmailed into installing their browser or to shut down my blog. I tried to get out of the blogging “business” a few months ago. I feel as if I don’t really have anything worthy of sharing. Sometimes I wonder why anyone would read my musings.

One thing I do know is that I will continue to read all  the people I follow. I can’t just let that go. It’s my tenuous thread to the outside world.

Now I have to think. Google or not to Google.

Will It Work or Not?

A few minutes ago when I opened Blogger dashboard, I saw the “new, improved” page. At the top of the page was the warning that my browser is no longer compatible with Blogger. It suggests that I use Google Chrome.

It seems that I can read blogs on my reading list, but I can’t post or edit. Right now I am using Windows Writer. I shall see if it works momentarily when I click on “Publish.”

Here goes!

It’s a Miracle!

When I told Jason that Mac, the crab, has passed on, I asked him what I should do with the deceased. He said to just leave him in his container, and he would take care of him when he picked up the rat gerbil Friday morning. He said he could keep the shell that Mac called home if Owen wanted to replace Mac with a new pet. Incidentally, Mac is a hermit crab, not a fiddler crab as I posted earlier. Hermit crabs live in shells that have been used by other crustaceans.

Jason opened the container and picked up the seashell. Lo and behold, something inside the shell moved! You should have seen Jason’s face. What we thought was the body of Mac turned out to be his exoskeleton, and Mac was safely inside his borrowed shell. How was I to know? I know little of biology or crab-ology. Finding him alive was such a relief. I was so happy! Owen would no longer have to think of me as his homicidal grammie. Jason’s wife said she was glad we didn’t have a funeral and inter him.

Jason had a terrible thought. He was wondering if when Mac’s friend, Cheese, died, he (Jason) was mistaken and perhaps there had been a “Premature Burial.”

It seemed to be totally appropriate for him to be “resurrected” in this, the Easter season. There were some vaguely sacrilegious jokes, but we all were thankful that Mac is alive and well.

Fatality

Since Noah and Owen decided to spend this week with their other grandfather, Jason and his wife made arrangements to have a hardwood floor installed in their living room and to have the hardwood in the kitchen and dining room refinished. They are staying in a hotel while the work is being done.

That left the problem of the animals. They have a dog, a cat, a fiddler crab, and a rat gerbil. The dog is staying with neighbors, the cat was taken to a kitty kennel, and the crab and the rat gerbil are visiting here.

Tragedy struck yesterday. Mac, the crab, croaked passed on. We weren’t sure, but he came out of his shell and we saw no further movement. When I called Jason this morning, he said Mac was very old, and it wasn’t unexpected. “But why did he have to do it here?” I moaned.

Mac belonged to Owen. I hope he won’t blame me for this unfortunate fatality. Every time he sees me, will he associate me with death of his friend? Damn, damn, double damn!

RIP Mac. (Mac’s friend, Cheese, passed a while ago.)

____________________________

Owen’s arm isn’t broken. He will be able to continue his baseball and Hip Hop classes.

Dreams

This morning I had a terrible dream which featured Jason at two years old (he’s now 40-something). In the dream we were at some public event when an illness broke out in the crowd. Jason was ill.  When the health professionals examined him they suggested that he be hospitalized.

Unfortunately, there was some mix-up and when Mr. Fixit and I arrived at the hospital, they claimed that he was never admitted. They lost my child! I was livid, scared, and all those emotions that a parent could have upon learning that her child was missing. A young woman was sent to placate us, and in the midst of her CYA speech, she made of the mistake was laughing at my fears. When she bent her head to hide her laughter, I grabbed her by hair and proceeded to slap her silly. I awoke.

These are the actual events that lead to my dream. Noah and Owen went to visit their other grandfather Saturday for their spring break. He lives a few hours away. After our daughter-in-law returned home, she received a telephone call from her father telling her that Owen was in the hospital with a possible broken arm. (Yes, again with a broken arm.) It turned out that it may not be broken, but they put him I a splint to await an exam by an orthopedist. Granddad R suggested that Jason and his wife not come and let him take care of the problem since Owen appeared to be in no pain.

The last two nights I have been reading a thriller about the abductions of children. Before I went back to sleep about 5:00 am, I was thinking about the character who had to inform the parents of the missing children that their children had been found murdered. I was contemplating the awfulness and stress on the officials who had this terrible duty. It must be one of the hardest things in this world to do.

I assume that these two real-life events somehow merged in my subconscious to appear in my dream. While resorting to violence in my dream is disturbing, I have to admit that it felt GOOD!