Laugh of the Day

“A recent study found

that you're much more

likely to get shot

by a fat cop

if you run."

~ Dennis Miller

Lead, Follow or GET OUT OF THE WAY!

On my commute in to the office this morning, the sun was shining, the flowers and trees were blooming, spring bursting forth in jubilance all about -- even in my step.  Just one of those ... ahhh, yes...decadent spring mornings.  Life is good.   

And then I entered upon the highway.  And that euphoria began to dissipate.

Three words:  Left-lane drivers.

It's no secret that I have a bit of pent-up road rage.  It's unfortunate, in a way, that I can't just blow it off, ignore the self-centered morons who frequent our highways.  I would prefer to be more lackadaisical when the challenges of driving on America's highways ruffle my feathers and rob me of what would have been a happy and positive start to a glorious spring day.

SCENE:  All three lanes, crammed and cluttered with long lines of slow(er)-moving traffic, the far left lane illumined with constant red brake lights from drivers hoping to pass, tension not exactly an inanimate force at this hour.  Yes, folks are thrilled to be going nowhere fast. 

I finally manage to snake and maneuver my way in and out and of the middle and right lanes, and once more to the middle, making my way alongside the lead car in the left lane.  Infuriated, I see the woman driver looking down at her cell phone, TEXTING,  coasting along in her dirty-blue piece of crap clunker (I'm trying to be kind), her speed oscillating between 10 and 15 mph under the speed limit -- IN THE PASSING LANE.  TEXTING.  IN THE PASSING LANE!



It's really too bad that I didn't have a set of these flash cards on hand. 

Sometimes it just FEELS GOOD to get it out.  To give your frustrations a voice.  If only my son was in the car, I would have ordered him to whip out his cell phone and video this maniac texting on her phone at rush hour in the far left lane.  But he was not.  So to "muscle-up" my message, while helping to release my rising ire, I laid on my horn for a good 5-7 seconds alongside her car before cutting over in front of her with laser-like agility and timing.  The look on her face was priceless.

I may be paving my way to hell for this kind of behavior.  Me?  Meek and gentle?  Hardly.  But on the other hand, I restrained myself from fleeting hand gestures and/or flashing my lights.  I suppose I could have surrendered to those inner demons and lost ALL control. 

And it seems I got my message across while earning the Highway Hero of the Morning Award from a long line of drivers,
every bit as frustrated as I had been,
as I watched in my rearview mirror
this Left-Lane-Lunkhead-Texting-Twit creep into the middle lane
and that long line of cars speeding angrily past her.

Heeeeeeeerrrrrre, I come to save the day!

The time has come for me to consider one of those static cling backward-reading “Move Over” windshield decals (complete with an arrow that points to the right) so that I can more “gently prod” these misguided morons into, well, getting the hell out of the way when they see it in their rearview mirror.   But then again, maybe not such a great idea when coming up behind a state trooper.  NAH.  Never mind.

It seems we need stiffer fines for loons clogging the left lane.  Maybe then (or maybe not) they'll begin to get the message:

LEAD, FOLLOW OR GET OUT OF THE WAY!

Ireland ~ A Tribute

In Honor of St. Patrick's Day...

To Ireland,

and all those who share in its tradition, its love, and its pride.

I'll be making Dirt Balls today, decorated "Irish," and sharing them with our music sound crew at our church who have put in a lot of love and time in preparing the music and video for tomorrow's service.  Their hard work will NOT go unnoticed.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, world!

We, the Jury...

I'm sitting in the courtroom right now, multitasking, waiting for the jury to return their verdict.
 

Piled on my desk in the courtroom:

A mug of coffee
My laptop
Data DVD's
A book (End of Normal)
My keys to the courtroom
A stack of notes, reminders to myself
My docket
Pens
My cell phone (on silent!)

The courtroom is vacant at the moment, the lawyers and parties having gotten bored with waiting, leaving instructions with the bailiff on where to reach them when the jury reaches a verdict.  The courtroom clerk has excused herself, overcome with munchies, and has gone off in search of a sugar fix.  The judge is in his chambers talking on the phone, signing orders and smoking cigarettes--despite the country-wide ordinance of no smoking in public buildings, but who is brave enough to challenge a circuit judge on what he can and cannot do in his own chambers?  No one has tried so far.

This is a bizarre case.  Short and sweet.  A woman was driving a wrecker one night after dark, on her way to see a friend for a social visit, and out of nowhere appears a woman in the road, who, the evidence suggests, was likely drunk, dressed in dark clothing, and although the defendant claims she tried her best to swerve and avoid hitting this woman, the side mirror of the wrecker ends up striking the woman and she's knocked off the road into a deep and obscure drainage ditch.  The driver in panic continues to drive and "leaves the scene of the accident," later calling 911 to report having witnessed a young boy getting struck by a car, lying about that, the location of the event, and other details in her conversation with Dispatch.  The driver insisted that she was deeply concerned in her report to 911 of what she had apparently just witnessed, but preferred not to get involved.  It is later learned that part of her bizarre actions following the event were due to the fact that she did not have a valid driver's license at the time of the accident and did not want to "get caught."

Authorities are dispatched to the scene, falsely directed by the panicked driver, finding nothing, obviously.  Two days later the victim's body is found in the deep ditch off the side of the road.  The victim, it is represented, was a known town drunk who wandered up and down the highway at all times of the day and night.

During the subsequent investigation, the police catch up with the perpetrator, and fast-forwarding the story, she admits to guilt and pleads guilty straight up in court and ends up serving time for the felony of leaving the scene of an accident causing death. 

The victim's sisters, two women who also share that same and questionable reputation of their lost loved one, are now suing in civil court for damages. 

Contributory negligence is being argued by the defense.

Compensatory and punitive damages are being sought by the plaintiffs.

Although I do not claim to exonerate the actions of the defendant for not having stopped after the accident nor failing to call for assistance, I can't help but wonder how much negligence should be attributed to the victim for having been stone drunk in the middle of the road after dark, dressed in dark clothing.

The jury is obviously struggling with that same issue, as the clock on the wall ticks away the passage of time. We patiently (or not so patiently) await their decision:

Meanwhile, I will continue archiving court records, answering emails, reading my book (I'm loving it!), and ... BLOGGING.

 “Where there's a will, there's a lawsuit."

~ Addison Mizner

Confessions of a Book Sniffer

The End of Normal.  I've just begun reading this book, lended to me by my friend/neighbor.  Her recommendation.  It grabbed me at the first page.  That's a good thing.  I hate it when I have to read several pages -- or worse, a chapter or two -- before I can connect with a book. 

It's Stephanie Madoff Mack's story of her marriage and of her husband's suicide in the wake of the controversial fiasco with her infamous father-n-law/jerk, Bernard Madoff.   An inspired memoir of surviving personal tragedy amid public scandal.

I'm sneaking reads in between hearings in the courtroom, when we have a spare five or ten minutes, or if a hearing cancels, and at night right before I fall asleep.  Reading is the best way for me to unwind, relax and surrender to slumber.  Without a shift to another focus, my mind will just wander from thought to thought, planning this, worrying about that, rethinking, sometimes even fantasizing--well, that's actually kind of fun-- keeping me from letting go and shutting down.  I'm high-strung that way, I guess.

Anyway, I'm excited to get back to a good read.  It's been a while.  Reading is one of my great (and first) loves.  I'm curious to read about her take on that most bizarre and "enormous international Ponzi scheme."

As I reflect back to my days as a young girl, I can remember my two sisters and I waiting anxiously for the weekly visit at our elementary school from the "Bookmobile."  It was a traveling bus/library, and we were thrilled to be able to board the bus and check out our week's limit -- seven books -- devouring them one by one, eagerly depositing them the following week so that we could tackle the following week's quota.

We were secretly competing against each other as well as our peers, our "book reading lists" growing longer and longer as the months wore on.  It frustrated me that I'd never be able to keep up with them, my being the youngest of the three sisters.  They could read much faster than I could, obviously, and they seemed to have a better attention span.  Besides, I'd always stop at a word I didn't know to look up its definition in the dictionary, toss it around in my mind a bit, try it on for size, then resume where I left off, the challenge of broadening my vocabulary ever so fascinating.

My favorite reads were the Nancy Drew mystery series.  I remember Nick, her boyfriend; reflecting back, I think I had a crush on him.  I remember lying in bed on cold, winter Saturday mornings, huddled under a pile of blankets, munching on Poptarts and reading Nancy Drew.

Great memories.  Reading was a huge part of my childhood.   I'm a book sniffer.  I remember loving the smell of books, walking into a library and getting high off that seductive scent of ink and glue, savoring that distinguishing aroma.  And I remember my little blue library card with MY NAME typed on it.  Now that was a big deal, my very own ID card of sorts, signifying ME as an official book lover.  Reading was a cherished escape for me, allowing me to become someone else in another place and time, reliving the stories of fictional and non-fictional characters, traveling the world and meeting interesting people, exposing me to ideas and concepts and ideologies that certainly must have helped shape and determine my path.  I'm grateful for that.

“I love the smell of book ink in the morning.”  

~ Umberto Eco

There's something to be said about being a child of a low-income family, not having the resources to go out and do, see, spend money and such like many other kids my age those many years ago.  We had to get creative with our sources of entertainment.  And standing in line, awaiting the arrival of the Bookmobile, although I didn't know it at the time, was the nexus of my love affair with reading and poetry and journalism and all things having to do with WORDS.

It paid off.  Fast-forward to my graduation from college with a degree in court reporting.  My career, as a court reporter -- it's perfect for me, and I'm blessed to love what I do for a living.

And it's likely those weekly trips to the Bookmobile helped pave the way.

Fitness Tip of the Day - Heeding the Call

The FTD showcased in my blog today says to set a target weight for a special event or occasion. 

Setting goals.  It's vital to achieving them.  There must be a purpose, a plan, a vision. 

Quoting Tom Venuto:

"Goals, when properly planted in the subconscious mind, produce action.

Goals create energy and motivation.

Goals get you out of bed early in the morning and into the gym.

The secret to staying motivated all the time is to set emotionally charged goals

– in writing -

and to stay totally focused on those goals day and night,
without taking your eyes off them.
A goal with a purpose is the fuel that propels you forward."

So I'm heeding the call:  I plan to weigh between 138-140 by June 15th.

MARCO ISLAND TIME

Set a goal.

Set it now.

Heed the Call.

Tom Gleeson - Neeah theh's a funny bloke!

(Love me some Aussie accent!)