Posts Tagged ‘jury duty’

I Only Cried Once

June 1, 2016

Ok.

Fuck.

Twice.

And of course, I was wearing glitter eye shadow today.

ALOT.

Fuck me.

Oh well.

That’s what mirrors on my scooter are for.

They certainly were not for anything else tonight coming home.

Holy fog Batman.

I was pretty soaked when I got home.

I digress.

I got out of the house early today to go wait in a line at the SFMTA.

To get a number.

To wait to be seen.

Wait, what?

Yes.

That’s right.

I had to wait in a line to wait in another line.

Ugh.

Fortunately, I had given myself enough time and I was able to address the issue, although, damn it, yes, I did cry.

I got frustrated.

I had all the things, I mean all the things, that they could possibly require, plus photographs of the scooter with the Child Care Parking Permit and my proof of insurance, my license, my title, all of it.

However.

As the supervisor so nicely told me, after I was redirected from the counter to another counter, it was the way it was.

There was nothing she could do.

“Listen, this is just the way it is, I’m sorry that you have to go through this, but there’s no other way, you need to get this documentation every time you apply for a child care permit,” she said, kindly, she was kind.

“But, I’m not asking for a new year long permit, I’m just asking to get a replacement permit,” I said, “the permit is good until November of this year.”

“Doesn’t matter, the city requires certain documentation, here, these are the forms, have your employer fill it out and then she has to come here in person and….”she paused.

I had started to cry.

I can ask for certain things from my employers, I know I can, and I have when I have needed to, but I knew, I mean, I really knew, she was not going to spend any time in the SFMTA to help me get the parking permit.

No way.

No how.

“Please, is there no other way,” I asked, “I just can’t see her coming down to do this, anything, please.”

We worked it out.

I got a sheaf of paperwork my employer will fill out and then she can mail it back to the SFMTA.

Ugh.

So I’ll get to wait another month or so and pay for parking out of my pocket, but better that than the sore knees I have had from riding my bicycle to and from work.

Plus.

Starting next week.

My work schedule will change.

10a.m.-6p.m.

This is my last week, that is, until school starts back up in the fall, with the 1p.m. to 8p.m. schedule.

The boys will be out of school as of Friday.

Which means my yoga schedule will change too.

No more yoga before work.

But.

For this week, I still have the late start and for that I am grateful as it facilitated me getting to the SFMTA and dealing with the standing in line and the paper shuffling.

And yes.

The tears.

There are just somethings that I get worked up about and I knew, I mean, knew, before going in, to not have any expectations.

Still had them.

Surprise.

Fuck.

God only knows what the fuck will happen when I am on jury duty.

Sigh.

Yup.

Got nailed with that too.

My service week is the week of June 13th.

I suspect I won’t get called, but I had to let the family know and the mom was none too pleased about that too.

I can’t delay it.

I did that already.

I was initially called up while I was in the throws of my last round of papers and projects for my first semester of grad school.

There was no fucking way I could do it.

I applied for the six month deferral.

Got it.

And then completely forgot that six months later they were going to cheerfully pull my card and call me in.

Oh well.

Civic responsibility.

“Adulting.”

All that jazz.

I do know that it won’t be as horrid as it could be, schedule wise, the family will be going back to the mom’s side of the family for a little while and I will not have them that Friday, Monday deal.

Of course, I will get to be there to open up the house for the house keeper and do some cooking and take care of things like I do.

This time, though, no locking myself the fuck out of the house.

Not playing that shit again.

My schedule has been a little wonky this week already.

I normally meet with some ladies on the weekend, all of them got rescheduled, and normally, I meet with another lady tonight, but she had work stuff.

I found myself in a part of town I don’t normally get to.

And for an hour.

I had some reprieve from the fog, the parking, the SFMTA, the work, the schedule, the juggling of folks.

It was nice.

I saw some folks I don’t see often.

And though I wasn’t pleased to get out to see how thick the fog had become, holy Moses, it was soup, I was centered and calm and happy to get home safe and sound.

To light up some candles.

To turn on the heat in my studio.

Yeah.

It really is like that.

It’s cold out here.

The fog is something serious.

And I don’t recall it being this dense already at this time last year.

I think I’m in for a pretty fogged out summer.

Grateful I work in the Mission.

I did get to see sun today.

The mom was incredulous that there was anything but sun at the beach this weekend, but I assured her, it really was dreary.

Although.

It is a cozy sort of thing.

Wrapping up the neighborhood.

Softening the edges of things.

The transformers sparking in the moisture.

The smell of the sea.

The call of the fog horn.

Just calls for cozy company.

Which shall happen this weekend.

Despite the tears.

I’m just a girl, you know.

Life is lovely.

It really is.

Fog and all.

Happy.

Joyous.

Foggy.

And.

Free.

 

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Do You Speak

December 15, 2015

Spanish.

Nope.

And I’m not interested in flirting with you.

I speak French.

Not the best French, not the greatest, but enough.

Enough to get me into trouble, I joke.

I suppose I should be brushing up on it, watching some more French movies and such.

I watched Blue Is The Warmest Color recently and may also download Amour, Love, to fly over the seas and into the heart of France.

I have been watching little snippets of Paris Je t’aime, Paris, I Love You, as well.  And unlike previous times I have watched it, I am watching it without subtitles.

Not that it seems to be helping, but I never know what is going to stick and what is not.

That is often the case with me in school as well.

I am not sure I got something, but I write the notes and I read the books or the article and I act as if.

And.

More often than not, the information comes up to the surface and I find that is has been integrated somewhere in the hard drive of my mind.

The mind is a marvelous thing.

It will tell me stories.

Not all of them true, ha, most of them not true at all.

It will entertain me.

With those stories that are not true.

But sometimes, my mind will surprise me and work in conjunction with my heart and I see a path, a resolution, a laying of love down the road, an acceptance, an awareness, an action, a course to take, a way to go, a belief that the summer skies will always wheel over my head and the warmth of love will not be blown out in the cold winter nights.

And even if it is, another flame will rekindle and there, despite the dark and the not knowing and the wayward beat of my heart, a drum pulsing with rhythm and the blood drives within, I will find that I have arrived on another shore and found, if not another way home.

The realization that I am always home.

In this body.

In this life.

In this love.

For myself, for the experience, for the constant and consistent journey on in this life.

The journey that will take me soon over the country and across the sea.

Another day closer.

A little more work to do.

I got up at to the sound of my alarm going off, which is unusual, I normally wake up a few minutes before, sometimes half hour or so, but today I slept all the way to my alarm.

A solid, sexy, gratifying eight hours of sleep.

It was lush and luxurious and I was startled to be awoken from a very deep sleep, it seems I could have gone on a bit longer, but the alarm was going and it was time to get up.

Time to do the deal and have my breakfast, to drink my coffee, to write my words and to do some homework.

For despite yesterday being the last day of classes for my first semester.

(LAST DAY OF CLASSES FOR THE SEMESTER!)

I still have work to do.

I have to do a transcription and another Psychoanalytic paper.

I started the transcription today.

I worked on it for about 45 minutes or so before calling a car and heading off to work.

I got there early enough that I was able to ship my mom and my sister’s Christmas packages before I had to be at work.

Which means.

I am done with the Christmas stuff that needs to happen.

I am also done with all bills that need to be paid for the month, so I do not have any other obligations to deal with financially before leaving for Paris.

I have other obligations though.

Fuck.

I got called up for jury duty.

I haven’t been called in before.

Thirteen years of living in San Francisco.

I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later.

I am being called in the week of January 11th, which aside from having a very significant date during that week, an anniversary of sorts on the 13th, is also my first week back in classes.

There is no way I can be available that week, but I don’t really have a reason that is going to stand up in court.

However, I can postpone it.

I can postpone it for six months.

Summer is a much better time for me to do it.

So that will be dealt with, but I don’t have to before I leave on the trip.

I have only a few things to do.

Work mostly.

Show up, be of service to my job, love the boys as hard as possible, cook the best food I can, love the dog, be helpful with the household and do what I can to help the family prepare for me being away a whole week for them.

The mom has got me doing food prep like nobody’s business.

I will be making a triple batch of broccoli soup, a batch of chili, some quinoa risotto, beef stew, and Christmas cookies before I leave on Friday.

Which is also my birthday.

I have dinner plans.

Although I am not sure where.

I am working and I am sure I will be kept busy on that last day until the last minute.

But that is ok.

I am able to go to Paris because I can take the time off and I have a job that pays me vacation pay and I love my boys.

I got so much love from them today, verbally effusive love.

“Carmen!  I love you to the moon and back!” The littlest guy told me today at dinner when I gave him a piece of bread with butter on it to dip in his broccoli soup.

“Carmen! I love you to the moon and back a hundred times!” The oldest boy said and spooned some chicken salad I had made him into his mouth.

“I love you times infinity!” The youngest countered.

“You guys, I love you so much, I can’t even quantify it,” I said and hugged them both.

“Infinity plus twenty hundred,” the oldest boy said with a stomp of his foot.

“Infinity plus infinity!” The youngest said.

We all giggled.

I have such a rich, wonderful life.

I am so lucky.

And no, I don’t speak Spanish and I don’t know where I’m going, and often times I’m not too certain how I got where I am now.

I suspect it’s something called Grace.

I definitely have been graced.

Dipped in it like a gilded flower of love.

Daisies in gold.

I am.

So.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Loved.

To the moon and back.

Infinity times infinity.


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