A Giggle, Because I Care

A comedy in one act.  It is literature, not life, I promise ;)

-        Act I, Scene I-

A hearing in a pretend county on an emergency motion. Hour 1.4 of what was supposed to be a thirty minute hearing.

Our poor fool is sitting with her client, who is FABULOUS, everyone should have a client like him.  Opposing Counsel, we’ll call “OC” because it works, has just finished up her client's trip down memory lane.

During cross, which is unusually organized if the author may speculate, Counsel begins to notice a familiar wobble in her voice, flushed cheeks, and a bit of warmth at the back of her head.  She looks down, and sees that her hands are beginning to shake.  She thinks: “No. Bueno.”

Counsel finishes cross and returns opposing party (who is testifying via telephone.  Not Court Call, mind you, the telephone) to OC.  Not wanting to pass out at counsel table and bash her head in (Insurance doesn’t kick in for another week or so.) Counsel searches for options.  “Hazaah!”  She remembers a fruit leather tucked neatly away in her court backpack. (Seriously, don’t bring an actual backpack to court.) Believing she has a short time left before full meltdown and several minutes before OC finishes her conversation, Counsel shoves the entire fruit leather into her mouth. 

At just that moment, JO, who has been away from Counsel’s sightline for the entirety of the hearing by a dragon of the 1984 boxy desktop variety, leans forward and asks “Re-Cross Counsel?”.

Chipmunk Cheeks for the win! 

-End Scene-

-The End-

**No chipmunks were harmed in the writing of this play. Or any other time that I’m aware of.**

**Hypothetical shout out to my better work half, CJK, for making sure my backpack was stocked with snacks before sending me off to camp this week.**

-DEC

"Crack is Wack" OR "Regulate Regulate Regulate".

Crack is wack.  I learned that from Whitney Houston waaaay before I learned from work that crack really IS wack.  Crack is so wack that it is regulated to the point of zero legality.  Not even for medicinal purposes people and I’m not messin’ around here.

However, there are other substances, legal substances that I am thankful are regulated.  I know, most of you know I don’t like too much regulation all up in my “bidness” if you will… so before you think I’ve gone all this guy: 

Let me just explain…

They’re HIGHLY addictive.  They do things to your body that you cannot recover from.  They change the way reasonably sane people conduct themselves.  Sane people do not tear apart their friends and family’s homes looking for their next “fix”.  I am so very very thankful that they are highly regulated, even if not by “the man”.  No, they’re regulated by the “little wo-mans”.  That’s right, I’m talking about these demons: 

I may or may not have consumed 1.5 boxes of these nightmares in the last 72 hours.  Never in my life have I been so thankful that they are only available once a year, for a short time, and that you can only buy them if you are so unfortunate as to cross the path of some diligent pushers loitering outside of your local grocery market.  Or if you have a close tie to a munchkin who has ties to “the organization”.  I’m not kidding, they keep these things on a tight leash.  Thank goodness. 

Can you imagine a world where we had free flowing daily access to Thin Mints?  Any time of the day or night you just pick up your phones and order delivery?  I shudder at the thought.  The internet tells me that I would survive a very long time in a zombie apocalypse.  I am quite confident that that is because they did not ask me any questions about the withdrawal I would sink into on the day that the Thin Mint supply line dried up.  Ohhhh golly.

Hold tight to your loved ones people, it is Girl Scout Cookie time.

-        DEC

‘I feel comfortable using legal language in every day conversation.’

Oh Elle. 

Not to knock Ms. Witherspoon.  I adore her.  However, the words she uttered in her application video have haunted me on a daily basis these last few years.

Personal Opinion: Most people should NOT be comfortable using legal language in every day conversation.  Snobbish?  Perhaps, but also practical.  Why?  Because lots and lots of people don’t bother to look up what a word or phrase actually means before they use it.  That’s why.  Read:  “notwithstanding” “and what have you” “could care less” and one of my personal favorites “that’s hearsay”. 

Trust me, I worry all of the time.  I make up words for whimsy but I worry that people think I don’t know they’re made up.  I worry that the real words I’m using will be used incorrectly on accident.  Am I using affect when I should be using effect? (OHH how that torments my waking hours – autocorrect anyone?)

True confession: I practice law on a daily basis and I still have to re-read the many many exceptions to hearsay all.the.time.   There are about a bagillion, fyi, and it is hard to remember them all.  That’s possibly why it really burns my biscuits when some fella sitting next to me (insert random place and time – all the time) arguing with another individual throws out a “that’s hearsay” as his shoot down of the other’s argument.  Well, no, brother man, it is not hearsay.  It was an observation of your physical state and a statement of that man’s belief.  Not. Hearsay.    “I saw you hit that car” – Not hearsay.   “He goes on expensive vacations but hasn’t paid his child support in three years.”  Also, depending on how the speaker came across this information, probably not hearsay.  Damaging, yes.  Hearsay, no.

What you don’t know CAN hurt you.  Besides the exceptions to hearsay (‘cause evidently I’m on fire there), and how to get your evidence admitted there are other pitfalls to not knowing the full meaning of what is happening.  Recently, I was presiding over a case where a party offered up some text messages as evidence.  Now, I might not have let those in.  However, when I asked Mr. Smartyrepresenthimselfpants if he objected to them being admitted, his response was “Yes, that was a confidential conversation with my kid.”  Nope. Nope it wasn’t.  (Sadly, they do not let us simply scream out “OBJECTION!!!” when we don’t like what is happening.)  We all have bad days.  More than once I’ve sincerely wanted to say “all of them” instead of naming an objection.  The point though is, I know what the objections are supposed to be and the words will come and 90% of the time they’re the right ones.  Stick to the words you know. Even if they are shorter.

Please, please, in the name of all things holy, if you don’t know what a word/phrase means, don’t use it.   If you don’t believe me, take a listen to this guy (min 5:16 especially).  Surely he knows what I’m talking about. Or sadly, maybe he doesn't. 

Seasons Change and So Does the Practice

Spring!  I had just started believing that old man winter was going to pull an Olaf and stick around to see “whatever it is that snow does in summer”*.  But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?  It is the sun, praise God, and it may warm my tootsies up to 63 degrees today!   

I don’t know about every small firm, but for ours, the change from winter to spring also means a change in practice area volume.  For us, January/February is family law flood.  Lots of folks have made it through one last holiday with a spouse or significant other and decide to start the new year making a significant life change.  People receive their tax return and use it to file for modifications in parenting time, or for contempt for missed holiday time, bad gifts and holiday indiscretions… you name it, it gets filed. 

Then comes the warmer weather.  Every year, with the warmer weather, like the new crocus bulbs in the garden, come the rush of new public intox and DUI cases.  Something about the nice weather makes people want to do their drinking outside or on the move.  I get it, totally, yesterday I heard a Jason Aldean song on the radio and thought “hmmm that IS “my kind of partaaaay”.  Trust me though, my drinking will not be done on the move, I don’t even intend to get “thrown into public” while intoxicated and I won’t even buy package alcohol in a county that may or may not rhyme with “camilton”…these are my choices.  I encourage folks to make similar choices.  I mean, sure, I love going to court for public intox cases in my “home counties”.  The courts are well run, the prosecutors are generally slightly more relaxed and it pays the bills.  However, I don’t wish the damage that these hiccups cause on anyone. 

So please, enjoy the weather, the flowers and the “cultural appreciation days”. 

Just please enjoy them safely and in ways that don’t make me enforce my “Emergency Time” clause.  I’ll come see ya’ at 3am downtown, but neither one of us is gonna be happy about it. Well, my boss who pays the bills will, but I won’t.  I need my beauty sleep.

-DEC

*Seriously, I love Frozen.

** Not me, doesn’t even resemble me, and NOBODY actually sleeps like this.

Frozen. Not Just a Margarita Option.

First, for the record, I take mine on the rocks with salt.  HOWEVER, I support those who choose the frozen option. I’m open minded that way.

In addition to the wonder that comes from the blending of tequila, salt, lime, ice, etc., I would like to sing the praises of the absolutely fabulous: Frozen. 

I know it is Disney.  I initially thought, like many, that it was a “kid” movie.  A few weeks ago though, all that changed.  I decided that after a week full of yelling, hair pulling, knock down drag out fights (and that was just my pup and her roomy) I needed an escape. I made plans to cut out early and catch a frivolous, whimsical tale set to music.  (4:20 showing at Trader’s Point).  The obstacle standing in the way was a hearing at a courthouse which shall not be named but might deal with children, let’s say.  I had a 2pm hearing and at 3:30, I mentioned to the fabulous bailiff that I might need to re-schedule my movie plans.  This very masculine man inquired as to what film I planned to take in.  Let me be honest, I paused. I didn’t want this gatekeeper to some JOs that I really respect to think me a ninny… but I decided to be honest.  “Frozen…” The response startled me “Oh hell no, you aren’t missing that. It’s the best one Disney’s done in forever.”  Ten minutes later my hearing had been called and I was on my way. 

Y’all, it was fabulous.  I downloaded a song off of itunes.  I now have six songs so you can tell I was pretty in love.  I loved that the song Let it Go wasn’t angry.  It wasn’t a raging destructive power ballad, it was a song about coming into her own and living into herself.  I think that’s pretty powerful for little girls and grownups alike.  It is catchy too, and someone with a pitchy alto-ish range can sing along with reckless abandon (you’re welcome west side morning drivers) like a theme song for self-confidence without a “B**ch” or a “h*” in sight. 

It is positive. It is beautiful. It teaches little girls not to wait around for a prince to save them, but if he wants to be your partner, let him help.  (A valuable lesson for big girls too.)  Siblings, long estranged, heal broken hearts to make their own little family. And if you don't think the little ones are watching/listening/learning from these shows they watch...I can attest that they are.  (I don't have kids, so obviously I'm a perfect parent.) 

 During a dance recital on a very recent Saturday, I sat, surrounded, by about two dozen small ballerinas.  You can imagine their surprise when the "big girls" did their recital dance to Let it Go.   During the first chorus there was a small, hesitant voice whispering the words.  By the second chorus, twenty tiny ballerinas were singing with all their hearts.  For the next five minutes I tried desperately to quiet the many tiny voices trying to tell me all about how brave the characters were, and how they loved each other even though they didn't always get along.  

Well played Disney.  Well played. 

Slow Clap From the Back Left Pew

I grew up sitting in the back left pew at Lakeview United Church of Christ.  I know it may be surprising, but back then I preferred to observe before jumping into things and the back left pew was a great place to do just that. 

*This is pretty much the view from my old pew.   Technology is crazy, I know.

Back in those days, I would generally wait to see what the rest of the congregation would do before I’d follow my impulses. I was young.  That’s pretty much worn off these days.  On occasion though, following a really great choir ballad, in the quiet of the sanctuary I’d hear a soft slow clap, reflecting the cry of my heart, start from somewhere in the sanctuary. It never started from this girl sitting in  the back left pew.   

Fast forward a couple of decades and I’ve been ruminating on the noticeable change I’ve run into of late.  Increasingly I meet or observe rude, hostile individuals who feel free to say the most horrible things by justifying them with the statements “I’m just being honest” or “I’m being my authentic self”. Admittedly, sometimes my filter turns off and I speak a harsh truth.  I try to do it though in a way that does not cause the recipient to run crying from the room.  (Regardless of the fact that I may actually sort of WANT to send them crying from the room.)  I filter myself in the names of the greater good, and world peace.  I’m not entirely uncivilized, I assure you.  It seems, however, that the whole “brutal honesty” trend is becoming more and more common place.  I may prove myself old and crotchety for my years, but I just cannot rest easily with this. 

This week while watching an episode of The Bachelor (don’t judge, everyone needs their mindless relaxations…sometimes mine comes in the form of “reality” television) I saw a “gentleman” reduce a woman to tears for the umpteenth time with statements he followed up with “I’m just being honest” as justification.  This time, in response to this statement the crying lady responded with “there’s a difference between being ‘honest’ and being an ‘a**h*le’”.

BAM.  First ever slow clap from the back left pew people.  You know what?  Standing ovation coming from that back left pew.  I’ve been waiting weeks to stop watching this show hoping just one person would respond to the tear inducing “honesty” flowing freely across the screen.  Now, I can rest easy switching back over to Jeopardy or Rehab Addict.  I feel much better about my tv time when I at least come away learning random bits of trivia or useful skills like how to rehab the bathroom in a 200 year old house with the appropriate grout color for the subway tile.  Sadly, I’m not kidding about that. 

Happy FRIDAY!

-        DEC

I’m So Excited, and No, Not Because of Diet Pills

I may have mentioned it before: I love the law.  I love practicing law.  Besides showing up in court rooms and fighting with people, and making the occasional Constitutional law argument (believe it or not, it does happen), I get to do some other really cool law related things that cause the occasional geek out.  These occasions include, but are not limited to: volunteering as a Guardian ad Litem (very cool), serving as an “Ambassador” of the Indiana Attorney General’s office at community events, presiding as a judge pro tem over court proceedings, and the most recent geek out opportunity - the opportunity to speak at one of this summer’s immigration and naturalization ceremonies.  Why is that a “geek out” opportunity?  Because I.Love.America.

I know it may not be cool to say, but I do.  With all her faults and flaws and discord, I love her from sea to shining sea.  Except parts of Kansas (I-70 anyone?).  Sorry Kansas.  I get choked up at the sound of a crowd singing the Star Spangled Banner even when it is off key.  As anyone who has been with me at the opening of the “greatest spectacle in racing”, you can pretty much consider me down for the count after a WWII flyover.  Any flyover really.  I am in love with where we’ve been and in prayer for where we will go.  That does not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean that I agree with every policy made by any leader or governing body of my lifetime.  On the contrary I can think of a good many, especially of late, that give me great pause.  That is the beauty of this place.  I can absolutely categorically to my bones disagree with a major policy decision, or war, or domestic or international policy, or tax, or non-tax, and not have to love my country any less.  But I was born with it.

For more than two centuries, this country has allowed my family the freedoms and opportunities to chase life, liberty and engage in the pursuit of happiness in whatever direction they’ve seen fit.  I am excessively excited to be able to share that with a new group of fellow Americans.  I know that people come here for different reasons and that everyone’s experiences are different.  I know that we are not always going to agree.  I also know that at that ceremony, I will be looking into the faces of some people who have done what I’ve never had to. They’ve “chosen” us.  For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, they’ve said goodbye to old homelands and cast their lot with us and that is huge to me.  I’m thankful for them.  I’m thankful for the reminder of everything that I love about my home.  There have been dark days, certainly, and there always will be.  We are promised the opportunity to pursue happiness, not that it will be handed to us and I think that is a beautiful thing.  For myself, the beauty, the pride, comes from the hard battle won.  Even in the courtroom I take less joy in the easy victories.   I hope that these new citizens are ready to roll up their sleeves and dig in because there is work to be done.  I hope that they see all of the possibilities that lay before them.  I hope that two hundred years from now their 15^th great grandchild will be just as geeked out to stand in front of a crowd and bid welcome as I am.  Because, if you can’t tell, I’m pretty excited.

Better get a box of tissues.

-DEC