Civic Doody

Argh. I had jury duty last week. And while, on some level, I have an appreciation for our judicial system, I really just didn't have that kind of time. I ended up having to cancel or reschedule six clients at the last minute, and was stressed about losing hours toward graduation, and really wanted to get dismissed from the jury. But before that could happen, you arrive at 8am and spend two hours getting "oriented" before they give all 50 of you an hour to drive five miles to another courthouse, the one where the actual cases are happening... and then they spend a while seating you in the courtroom and then, gosh, it's lunchtime so you have to wait around another hour and a half before jury selection actually begins.

Everybody in there wanted to get off the jury. The guy on my right was reading The Communist Manifesto and the guy on my left was sighing loudly every 10 seconds and obnoxiously proclaiming (over and over and over again) how he knows all the cops in Glendale. There was a woman on the panel who almost started crying while stating she could never convict someone because she was the mother of an adolescent (huh?), and a cinematographer who insisted (also many times) that he didn't think he could be fair because he had worked on a bunch of cop shows and movies (the best part of the day was when the judge leaned over and asked him if he knew the difference between TV and real life).

Anyhow, since it was a criminal trial, the prosecutor ended up (two hours later) kicking off everyone who had ever had a non-sunny-and-wonderful interaction with law enforcement, and for once in my life I was thankful that I was in that category. I said my brother had been arrested 15 years ago for something when he was a teenager and that I didn't think he had been treated fairly, and boom I was gone.

If it hadn't been such stressful timing (I couldn't postpone because there was no better time to reschedule for in the near future), it would have been a more enjoyable adventure. At the very least, it was entertaining to watch a room full of relatively normal, sane adults attempt to look earnest while trying to fly their freak-flags high enough to get sent home.

Mmmm chicken

So I'm thinking of changing the name of this blog from "Running with Scissors" to "Wobbling Slowly with Scissors, and Stopping Occasionally to Sit Down and Take a Nap." Because that is more accurate. And "wobbling with scissors" is sort-of what I feel like as a therapist some days now, just trying to poke and prod a little bit without drawing too much blood.

Anyhow, I kept meaning to write about Lent this year but never got around to it. I gave up meat for Lent, and Goat joined me. So when Passover came along and he gave up all wheat/flour/leavened things, I joined him as well. Which meant we had a week of meat-less, wheat-less overlap. Let's just say I ate lots of fruit and cottage cheese. Originally, I was disappointed with having given up meat for lent. The truth is, it's way too easy to substitute, especially here in California. So, while I was intending to sacrifice something, to deprive myself, to give myself pause to be more conscious of suffering and mortality, instead it was more just like a pesky little detail. No chicken? OK, I'll have the rice-and-bean burrito. No hamburger? How about a veggie burger. Over the course of 40 days, there were really only a few times I even felt a pinch.

But the last week, the week without meat or wheat (have you ever thought about how much stuff has wheat/flour in it, unless you're allergic?), that has been a stretch. I've never had to be so conscious of what I put in my mouth, or so intentional about rearranging my diet. The first couple of days weren't bad, because there were two seders, which left me so full that I didn't even want to eat the rest of the day (and if the food didn't fill you up, the four cups of wine helped you forget). The second couple of days were OK, because I'd stocked up on fruit and Goat's mom had loaded me up with several months worth of unleavened bread products and chocolate-covered matzo bread. But by this weekend, it was starting to get old. Plus, we road-tripped to Arizona and spent the weekend eating out with some of Goat's friends from Boston. Road-tripping without license to snack freely!? And it kills to go out to a restaurant and know that someone else is going to do all the cooking, and you can only have a salad. Happily, Easter arrived mid-weekend and gave us back our carnivorous ways... but by now (Passover ends Tuesday night), I'd give my right arm for a bowl of cereal in the morning.

So somewhere in here, I'm trying to distill the lessons I've learned. They're not particularly profound. But I wouldn't have traded the last seven weeks. First, it's made me consider going permanently veggie, because I've had the inkling that I wanted to for a while, and this showed me that I could. Second, I suppose it reminded me more about what I hope to get from Lent, which actually ends up being a lot of what I find in Passover (see point #3). Third, I love seders. There's something about the Haggadah, and what it stands for, the focus on God's providence and faithfulness, that makes me want to cry every time. I have no idea whether it is as striking to Goat, or to other Jewish people who may have been forced to sit through the prayers and songs for 30 years, but it moves me, even before I start on the wine. Fourth, even if you know that you can never really understand how someone else experiences something like Lent or Passover, there's a lot to be said for solidarity. I know Goat's reasons for observing Lent were different from mine, and I know my reasons for observing Passover were different from his, but I think it meant a lot to both of us that the other chose to do it, voluntarily, outside of the influence of obligation.

That said, I did cook up a yummy chicken breast tonight. And about 24 hours from now I will be eating cold cereal for dinner. Mmmmm granola....!