So the first week of school was a great success all the way around. Peach jumped right back into the swing at her beloved GGMS, and Olive had absolutely no problem leaving the warmth of her mother's bosom for greener pastures and an awesome pony puzzle at her precious preschool. I now have a second grader and a preschooler - when did that happen?
Tonight, we took a family hike around our neighborhood after dinner. The hike and bike trail is literally steps away from our front door, and it circles the entire neighborhood for a lovely 2 mile walk. This is old ranch property, so there are lots of big old trees around the perimeter, and the trail winds through them in a very magical, Secret Garden kinda way. Peach and Olive have new metal walking sticks, and while they beg to take them every time, somewhere after about 15 minutes, when they realize it's easier to run and pick up rocks without them, T-Bone and I usually end up with them. Tonight was no different, and as we hit the homestretch, I had Olive by one hand and a stick in the other, and 50 yards behind me, T-Bone had Peach by one hand and a stick in the other. We walked by the park up the street, and there was a group of teen and tween boys at the pavilion, all on bikes and skateboards, having a rap session or a jam session or whatever it is the kids do these days. As Olive and I passed, the ringleader said, "Hi," while the others just stared me down. I said, "Hi," and we kept on trucking. A few steps later, he said, "Don't go to the left. There's trees." Or at least I thought that's what he said. I just kind of nodded and kept on, trying to figure out if he was forbidding me from coming into the park or if he was being sarcastic or if he was just a freak. Again he said, "Don't go to the left. There's trees on the left." Thinking surely I had heard him wrong, I said, "There are trees? What?" And he said, "On the left." I said, "Okay," and never looked back or stopped.
A few seconds later, when T-Bone and Peach crossed the hooligans' path, the ringleader said, "Hi," and T-Bone responded in kind, but he also waved. I heard some murmuring and then, "Sir? Hey, sir? Are you blind?" Yeah. The kid thought we were blind and being led around the neighborhood by small children. Okay - so we had the sticks, and I probably seemed (and was) totally confused by his repeated warnings of the dreaded trees. And it probably didn't help that it was getting dark and I still had my sunglasses on, but they're prescription lenses, and I really WOULD need a stick and a companion to get me around if I took them off. But a 3 year old? Come on, dude.
August 31, 2007
August 29, 2007
We Interrupt This Nonsense ... Updated!
For a dose of reality. In a former life, I clerked for a judge on the highest criminal law court in the state. By default, I was assigned all the capital cases that came through our office and wrote the opinions that affirmed the convictions, and thereby the death sentences, in those cases. Fun. One case that I particularly struggled with has been in the news lately, and unless Governor Hairdo does something completely out of character, Kenneth's time is up tomorrow.
In law school, I worked on the final appeal and last-minute request for clemency in another capital case (which The Supremes and W denied, thankyouverymuch), and I visited my client on Death Row in Huntsville the week before he was executed. Charlie saw the writing on the wall, and he told me with a smile that he was looking forward to getting a good clean shave before his family saw him for the last time. It is still one of the most unnerving and incredibly valuable experiences I've ever had, and I'm so glad I had the chance to do it. Ditto my visit to the women's death row unit in Gatesville.
Flash forward to my time as a clerk, where my very conservative judge once again listened patiently to my impassioned pleas to reconsider the trial court's decision and then said, "Thanks for the great work, but no." See, here in Tejas, capital convictions are automatically appealed, BUT, basically, unless the applicable law has changed between trial and appeal (yeah, right), or you have some newly discovered and extremely compelling evidence (like DNA), or there was some really egregious misconduct from either counsel table, or some such other rare instance, you're pretty much SOL at the state level and have to hope for bigger and better things higher up the food chain.
Which is how I got through the tough opinions, hoping that someone wiser and more powerful (paging Madam Ginsberg and Co.) would see the light and put the brakes on this runaway train. So far, that hasn't happened, but this case would be a great one to effect change in the system, if only by exposing the Law of Parties as the bullshit legislative lipservice that it is.
Google Kenneth's name if you're interested because there's a lot of information flying around out there right now. In the meantime, I'm going to wash my hands.
Update: Miracle of miracles, Governor Hairdo actually came through. Amazing. So now Kenneth will spend the rest of his life in prison, and we'll only execute two people this week instead of three.
In law school, I worked on the final appeal and last-minute request for clemency in another capital case (which The Supremes and W denied, thankyouverymuch), and I visited my client on Death Row in Huntsville the week before he was executed. Charlie saw the writing on the wall, and he told me with a smile that he was looking forward to getting a good clean shave before his family saw him for the last time. It is still one of the most unnerving and incredibly valuable experiences I've ever had, and I'm so glad I had the chance to do it. Ditto my visit to the women's death row unit in Gatesville.
Flash forward to my time as a clerk, where my very conservative judge once again listened patiently to my impassioned pleas to reconsider the trial court's decision and then said, "Thanks for the great work, but no." See, here in Tejas, capital convictions are automatically appealed, BUT, basically, unless the applicable law has changed between trial and appeal (yeah, right), or you have some newly discovered and extremely compelling evidence (like DNA), or there was some really egregious misconduct from either counsel table, or some such other rare instance, you're pretty much SOL at the state level and have to hope for bigger and better things higher up the food chain.
Which is how I got through the tough opinions, hoping that someone wiser and more powerful (paging Madam Ginsberg and Co.) would see the light and put the brakes on this runaway train. So far, that hasn't happened, but this case would be a great one to effect change in the system, if only by exposing the Law of Parties as the bullshit legislative lipservice that it is.
Google Kenneth's name if you're interested because there's a lot of information flying around out there right now. In the meantime, I'm going to wash my hands.
Update: Miracle of miracles, Governor Hairdo actually came through. Amazing. So now Kenneth will spend the rest of his life in prison, and we'll only execute two people this week instead of three.
August 26, 2007
Back-to-What Now?
Somehow, the entire summer has flown by, and here we are on the eve of a new school year already. I don't get it. It seems like only yesterday I was making my project list for the summer, which I mostly completed, and now I'm looking at calendars and save-the-date cards that run straight through the holidays. Yes, our Saturdays are now booked through December because the lovely and graceful Peach has been selected to perform in a production of The Nutcracker, and yours truly will be driving her 30 miles (each way) to rehearsal every week. Because they want the parents to drop the kids off and am-scray, I'm going to have several hours to kill, so I'm thinking of bringing a portable fan and a cot and just napping in the parking lot. Seriously.
In other news, as I am on a real self-inflicted injury tear lately, I cut the everloving crap out of my finger last night while cleaning a bigass knife. If it had just been T-Bone and me, I would have made him take me to get stitches, but, honestly, the thought of dropping everything and packing everybody up in the car right before bedtime was just all too exhausting. So I winced, wrapped it in a towel, and finished the dishes with my bad arm up over my head. Damn, fingers can bleed, y'all!
So Peach has had her clothes picked out for a week, and Olive has been wearing her new pony backpack everywhere. She starts on Tuesday. OMG. She is WAY more ready for it than I am. And with the way things have been going lately, I'm not sure I trust myself to be alone in the house for too long. Maybe I should get one of these in case I fall and I can't get up.
In other news, as I am on a real self-inflicted injury tear lately, I cut the everloving crap out of my finger last night while cleaning a bigass knife. If it had just been T-Bone and me, I would have made him take me to get stitches, but, honestly, the thought of dropping everything and packing everybody up in the car right before bedtime was just all too exhausting. So I winced, wrapped it in a towel, and finished the dishes with my bad arm up over my head. Damn, fingers can bleed, y'all!
So Peach has had her clothes picked out for a week, and Olive has been wearing her new pony backpack everywhere. She starts on Tuesday. OMG. She is WAY more ready for it than I am. And with the way things have been going lately, I'm not sure I trust myself to be alone in the house for too long. Maybe I should get one of these in case I fall and I can't get up.
August 23, 2007
It's Over
Dear Luby's,
We've been together nearly 40 years now, and while I've noticed a growing distance between us in the last few years, I really always thought we'd work it out and go the distance. I've forgiven your recent attempts to bolster lagging sales by scrapping the traditional cafeteria routine in some locations for a self-serve, all-you-care-to-shove-in-your-piehole format, which I loathe with every fiber of my being. I've excused the ridiculous decision to replace the tea cart ladies with individual "servers" at each table, who I am now guilted into tipping just for bringing me a straw. And I've even overlooked the baffling disappearance of the darling little boats you used to serve the shrimp cocktail in. But after last night's Kids-Eat-Free-on-Wednesdays debacle, I've had alls I can stands, and I can't stands no more. And in this case, it really is YOU, not me.
Not that I don't like to save a buck or ten, but any free event, especially involving kids, usually gives me pause because do I really want to be in a confined space with a bunch of other jackasses' screaming kids? In a word, fuckno. But there we were last night, in line with about 200 other assholes, dreaming of the best macaroni and cheese in the history of the world, and I knew it was over. I knew because I immediately wanted to get the hell right out of there, sweet comfort food or no. I knew because instead of being served by the sweet Luby Ladies of yore, the ones who would smile and call me "mija" when they scooped me up an extra hardy helping of fried okra, I was met with sweaty, mumbling, openly hostile burnouts who seemed to think it was MY fault that they were out of black-eyed peas. And I'm pretty sure one of that dude's jailhouse tats was infected, so I didn't eat the squash he forced on me anyway. Nice try.
And then, THEN, the everloving mac n cheese of the gods SUCKED. And I hate that word. That's how bad it was. And that's how OVER this is. Cold, plain pasta with cheddar cheese melted on it two days ago does not cut the mustard, and back in the day, you would have never let that shit fly. I just don't even know you anymore.
So, I'm out. For good this time.
Kiss my grits,
LT
P.S. And just so you know, you were my second choice last night as this place was closed for filming. Oh, quit your crying, you big baby.
We've been together nearly 40 years now, and while I've noticed a growing distance between us in the last few years, I really always thought we'd work it out and go the distance. I've forgiven your recent attempts to bolster lagging sales by scrapping the traditional cafeteria routine in some locations for a self-serve, all-you-care-to-shove-in-your-piehole format, which I loathe with every fiber of my being. I've excused the ridiculous decision to replace the tea cart ladies with individual "servers" at each table, who I am now guilted into tipping just for bringing me a straw. And I've even overlooked the baffling disappearance of the darling little boats you used to serve the shrimp cocktail in. But after last night's Kids-Eat-Free-on-Wednesdays debacle, I've had alls I can stands, and I can't stands no more. And in this case, it really is YOU, not me.
Not that I don't like to save a buck or ten, but any free event, especially involving kids, usually gives me pause because do I really want to be in a confined space with a bunch of other jackasses' screaming kids? In a word, fuckno. But there we were last night, in line with about 200 other assholes, dreaming of the best macaroni and cheese in the history of the world, and I knew it was over. I knew because I immediately wanted to get the hell right out of there, sweet comfort food or no. I knew because instead of being served by the sweet Luby Ladies of yore, the ones who would smile and call me "mija" when they scooped me up an extra hardy helping of fried okra, I was met with sweaty, mumbling, openly hostile burnouts who seemed to think it was MY fault that they were out of black-eyed peas. And I'm pretty sure one of that dude's jailhouse tats was infected, so I didn't eat the squash he forced on me anyway. Nice try.
And then, THEN, the everloving mac n cheese of the gods SUCKED. And I hate that word. That's how bad it was. And that's how OVER this is. Cold, plain pasta with cheddar cheese melted on it two days ago does not cut the mustard, and back in the day, you would have never let that shit fly. I just don't even know you anymore.
So, I'm out. For good this time.
Kiss my grits,
LT
P.S. And just so you know, you were my second choice last night as this place was closed for filming. Oh, quit your crying, you big baby.
August 21, 2007
Winding Down
Or is it winding up? Whatever - this is the last week of summer, and we've got shitloads of fun to cram in here real quick before the school bell rings on Monday. Here's what's on tap for the rest of the week:
Wednesday - pottery painting with friends we haven't seen in over a year. Friends who live like 15 minutes away. Friends whose baby we haven't even seen yet, and he's 13 months old already. I swear my life is not THAT busy, so this is just ridiculous. I am a terrible friend.
Thursday - hitting the mall for a little back-to-school shopping and a long-awaited trip to Build-Un-Oso. That place always reminds me of the dress-up Snoopy I had many moons ago, a toy that was so etched in my memory that once, during a particularly drunken game of Taboo a few years back, "Snoopy" was the taboo word, and I guess I flashed on an image of him in the railroad outfit because here was my description - "Okay! This guy is CRAZY! He wears a little engineer hat, and he has a crazy little bird friend! You know! He's CRAZY!" I can only recall this verbatim because my partner that night, my best friend in law school, still gives me shit about it to this day. And no, she didn't guess "Snoopy."
Friday - touring and eating my way through the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham. We've been meaning to go during this 100th anniversary celebration, and we almost went last Friday but opted to go bowling instead. And oh yeah, I'm still SORE from the bowling. One frigging game, almost a week ago. Pathetic.
Saturday - TBD. Any ideas?
Sunday - machete-ing(?) my way through the weeds in my back bed, snakes be damned, and whacking the shit out of the privet and rose bushes that are taking over my front yard. And since I know you've been concerned about the GD scorpions infesting my house, I can tell you that the bug guy came yesterday and put the hammer down on those mofos. I already saw a dead one in the driveway this morning, and I'm leaving the little bastard there as a warning to his friends. Boo-yeah!
And THEN, Peach starts school on Monday, and Olive starts on Tuesday. More on that later ...
Finally, as I was sweating my way through a misguided attempt to navigate the outlets last Saturday - had to save that GD 8 percent, right? - I saw this T-shirt and thought of you: It is better to have loved and lost than to live with the psycho for the rest of your life.
True, true.
Wednesday - pottery painting with friends we haven't seen in over a year. Friends who live like 15 minutes away. Friends whose baby we haven't even seen yet, and he's 13 months old already. I swear my life is not THAT busy, so this is just ridiculous. I am a terrible friend.
Thursday - hitting the mall for a little back-to-school shopping and a long-awaited trip to Build-Un-Oso. That place always reminds me of the dress-up Snoopy I had many moons ago, a toy that was so etched in my memory that once, during a particularly drunken game of Taboo a few years back, "Snoopy" was the taboo word, and I guess I flashed on an image of him in the railroad outfit because here was my description - "Okay! This guy is CRAZY! He wears a little engineer hat, and he has a crazy little bird friend! You know! He's CRAZY!" I can only recall this verbatim because my partner that night, my best friend in law school, still gives me shit about it to this day. And no, she didn't guess "Snoopy."
Friday - touring and eating my way through the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham. We've been meaning to go during this 100th anniversary celebration, and we almost went last Friday but opted to go bowling instead. And oh yeah, I'm still SORE from the bowling. One frigging game, almost a week ago. Pathetic.
Saturday - TBD. Any ideas?
Sunday - machete-ing(?) my way through the weeds in my back bed, snakes be damned, and whacking the shit out of the privet and rose bushes that are taking over my front yard. And since I know you've been concerned about the GD scorpions infesting my house, I can tell you that the bug guy came yesterday and put the hammer down on those mofos. I already saw a dead one in the driveway this morning, and I'm leaving the little bastard there as a warning to his friends. Boo-yeah!
And THEN, Peach starts school on Monday, and Olive starts on Tuesday. More on that later ...
Finally, as I was sweating my way through a misguided attempt to navigate the outlets last Saturday - had to save that GD 8 percent, right? - I saw this T-shirt and thought of you: It is better to have loved and lost than to live with the psycho for the rest of your life.
True, true.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)