Jury Purgatory: The Final Chapter

On my fifth and last day of serving duty, I was denied a position on the 16-person jury. As explained to us by Judge Leon, there would be 16 people chosen: 12 regular jurors and four alternates. On the final day, after an estimated 4-5 weeks of service, the alternate jurors would be told their true roles. The other 12 would deliberate and conclude the trial. Judge Leon explained the reasoning behind not letting the jurors know who is "alternate" versus "regular": the alternates will pay as much attention the whole case as their "regular" colleagues. If one knows he is an alternate, then he won't pay as much attention than if he knows he's a regular juror. Ahhh... (nods) makes sense.

In the last two hours I was there, the remaining 75 (approximately) of us still awaiting our fate filed into Judge Leon's courtroom. We sat before the defendants, the prosecution and the defense. The judge sat before all of us, in his elevated and comfy swivel chair. His gavel sat near him and his papers were stacked in front. We were seated by juror number, which wasn't necessarily in any numerical order, in the section of the court where an audience would watch the proceedings. I'm not sure how they "ranked" us, but I was 20 people from the front.

We were told to file into the juror box 16 people at a time. When the box was full, no one else entered it. The remaining jurors to be evaluated stayed in the audience section of the courtroom.

The two sides, the prosecution and the defense, looked at their notes from the past four days and looked at the box of 16 faces. They exchanged notes with one another and then with the opposing side. The purpose was to pick people with whom both sides agreed that they wanted on the jury.

I watched as the people before me were dismissed one by one. The opposing sides would chat and then take some juror numbers to the judge, who would announce the juror(s) that were dismissed. No explanation for dismissals were given. Simply: "Juror number 0249, you are dismissed." The "cut" juror would grab his/her things and leave the courtroom.

Finally, I was called to join the box. I sat down in the cushiony chair that was bolted to the floor and couldn't help but think, "this is the kind of chair you need if you're going to be listening all day."

I looked ahead at the prosecution and the defense. I was one of three white women in my age bracket- you know, the 25-35 block. I felt like my odds were pretty good for being chosen to stay. I was thinking about my high odds when I saw it. One of the attorneys for the prosecution had a juror seating chart in front of him. Even from eight feet away, I could easily see the layout and identified my chair. Number seven. Then, as quickly as I'd identified my chair I saw the strike of his pen. He met my eyes and quickly looked away. I was out.

I watched the prosecution give their notes to the defense. The defense reviewed them and said something in a whisper back to the prosecution before both parties approached the judge.

Judge Leon, after hearing the new numbers, called out two. Mine was the second. I had been dismissed. My chair barely warm, I gathered my things and left the box. I exited the room and walked through the hall, rode down the elevator and breezed out into the sunshine.

While I'll always wonder what life may have been like for those weeks, I am not disappointed that I wasn't picked for the trial. It seems like it may have been emotionally taxing and (at times) boring or overwhelming. I'll follow the news as a verdict is made. I won't hear it announced from a jury box or hear juror arguments in a cramped boardroom behind a judge's chamber. Rather, the verdict will likely be read from the comfort of my home, where I can only guess at what the jurors learned and speculate as to how I may have been changed from it.

(Now that the "picking" is complete and I am not serving on the 16 panel jury, I felt free to do some digging of my own regarding the case that would have been my other full time job for 4-6 weeks. If you're interested in reading a snippet, then you can click here.)

A Second Job: Jury Purgatory

Last week, when I reported for my federal jury duty summons, I was bright eyed and full of wonder at what I would learn about our judicial system. Turns out, it is pretty incredible. After waiting about an hour, I was whisked away with about 100 other potential jurors, all being vetted for the same case.

We were all shuffled into the federal courtroom that sits in a stone building in the heart of downtown D.C. We filed into the rows where an audience would observe a case. Paintings of robed judges hung on the walls. Besides the paintings, the walls were a pristine and a boring white. They rose high and met the ornate ceiling. We potential jurors were introduced to the lawyers, the clerks, and the defendants. Then, when the intros were complete, the judge entered the room. We rose and watched him saunter to his seat. He read us the basics of the case and reminded us that the accused are innocent until proven guilty.

What a concept. I'm so happy to live in a country where we uphold that basic right.

When we potential jurors had heard the facts of the case and familiarized ourselves with the players, we were then asked to fill out a 20+ page questionnaire pertaining to the case and our opinions about general concepts (think: immigration, gangs, and crime). The judge, lawyers and defendants left us to our questionnaires. Only the clerks remained and in that brief moment I thought how it must be such a pain for the lawyers and judge to come in only for those brief moments. I bet they get sick of those tedious appearances over and over again. Then I remembered their salaries and didn't feel as bad for them.

After completing my questionnaire and handing it to the clerk, I was then given a piece of paper with call back instructions. Little did I know that paper I would become best friends over the next week+.

I left the court and was greeted by the sunshine. I wondered how many people had gone into that building and left with their lives altered completely by a sentence handed to them. Freedom felt really good.

As I walked to the Metro, I passed by an early voting location and cast my ballot, beating most of my fellow DCers to the polls. I watched my ballot go into the machine and noticed that only 14 other people in my precinct had voted prior to me. That was enough to push me over my patriotic edge! Jury duty and voting- all within the same day? It felt good!

Three days later, my Thursday was a different story. I literally sat all day (with the exception of a lunch break) in the jury holding room until they called my number at 4:30. I walked to the counter, where I met the woman who held my fate. Would I be back? Had I been selected? Could I go about my normal life again?

She handed me a paper with a number on it- the same number I'd seen before. She crossed my name off her list with her highlighter while simultaneously saying the same instructions I'd heard her tell the person in front of me, "call this number after 5 tomorrow for your instructions regarding Monday."

Tired from doing nothing and listening to CNN all day, I begrudgingly took the paper and walked myself out of the stale room.

Fast forward again. Today was a little different and way more entertaining. Sure, I spent half the day in jury purgatory. I waited in the room, endured CNN's stories, and knocked out some of my real work via the internet. But then... a break in the monotony! My number was finally called (along with the remaining eight others left in the room that holds about 300+ people). We followed the clerk to the judges chambers, where he left us in a small Board room with no instructions. Everyone was silent, but I could tell that they (like me) were just happy to see another room.

I broke the ice, "well at least we have a change of setting!" That seemed to make a few people chuckle, then everyone settled back into silence. A couple minutes went by with no clerk. Papers and blackberries came out. I pulled out an Express and made it three pages before the clerk returned. He called only my number and I followed him to the courtroom, leaving behind my comrades. I entered and there were all the players again: the lawyers, more clerks, the defendants, and the judge. I was shown where to sit- in the witness box. How exciting!! I felt like a little kid and a foreigner to the process. Keeping myself together, I looked at the judge for an explanation.

He explained that I had been called to expand on some answers from the original questionnaire I had completed. He held it up and we dove into it. He asked me about three of the questions and I answered. After each answer I gave, the judge nodded and turned to the lawyers to ask if they had "further questions?" There was only one instance where I had to answer another question posed from one of the lawyers. Overall, it was pretty awesome- no lie.

I go back again Tuesday (today) to find out more about my role in this case. Who knows what will happen? I feel like I'm in purgatory- waiting in limbo until I find out if I'll have a second job for the next 4-6 weeks (yes, that's how long the case is estimated to run).

One Story

It had been a long day and though it was only Tuesday, already the week's activities made it seem more like a Friday. Rachel and I sat facing the empty lobby of the Pregnancy Center. It was 8:30 pm and, likely, no one else would come this evening. The weather was cool; the first break in the summer heat, and often people will skip their appointments when it's not a sauna outside. Similarly, the rain was threatening. When the clientele relies highly on buses, the threat of rain and standing at a stop while buckets drop all around will keep some inside.

It seemed that way tonight. It was dead in the Center. I was mentally wrapping up my day and simultaneously vegging out in the DC Express. Rachel is a natural introvert and I know this about her. Better to let her read (as she was doing) than to force conversation. Sometimes it's nice to just sit with someone and each read. So, we did. Happily.

It was her turn to see the next client, but she'd gotten up to use the restroom and was in there when the bell rang. I closed my Express and listened for Rachel's footsteps. There was only silence.

Guess I am on duty.

I answered the door and in came Marta. Only, I didn't know her name yet. I checked her in and by the time I pulled a new chart Rachel had returned.

Since I'd already greeted Marta and didn't mind one last client before the night ended, Marta and I left Rachel to her book and went to a private room so I could learn just part of her story.

The Pregnancy Center is a nonprofit Christian organization. It offers a plethora of services: classes (parenting and childbirth), counseling (post-abortion and general), education (sexual health), material resources (i.e. items like clothing, diapers, car seats, etc.), Bible studies, and free pregnancy tests. The Center is an organization that gives what it receives. The donations are often given by local churches and neighborhood ambassadors who want to help others in their community. There's nothing fancy about the Center. Once it was a local grocery store, but was converted decades ago into what it is now- an organization that helps women (mostly) and men in need when they fall on hard times. I've been a volunteer there for four years and never hear the same story.

Marta sat across from me. She was articulate and, despite her strong accent, I could tell she'd been in the States for a while. Her English wasn't very broken and there was little "interpretation lag time" where she internally translated my words before responding externally.

She looks tired.

I always try to put my clients at ease early in our conversation and Marta let me. Though she seemed a bit nervous at first, she soon relaxed and we settled into our time together. She wasn't that young. The average age of the clients I see is probably about 22. Marta eclipsed that age by two decades. She was an experienced mother with four children. It was her latest, Marvin, who had been the surprise. He had arrived 11 months earlier and eight years after his closest sibling in age.

Marta is married, which is also not the norm for the women I see. Her wedding ring is simple and gold. I barely see it on her folded finger. You can imagine my (slight) surprise when she tells me that she lives with just her sons.

I pause at this fact, but wait patiently and then dig a little deeper. Within a few minutes I learn that she and her husband, Carlos, are from Honduras. They moved to give their kids a better life. She was a few months pregnant when he was found working illegally and deported back to Honduras. He'd not seen Marta, baby Marvin, or their three other sons since his deportation. Baby Marvin just learned how to walk.

As she shared her story, I found my eyes welling as my heart broke. Yet Marta stayed strong. I guess when it's your story and you're living it, tears aren't always an option- at least not when you're sitting in a foreign place and speaking with a stranger. Marta is proof of that.

Without a job, she'd lost their home and the safe nest that she'd built with her husband. Their house had been foreclosed on because Carlos wasn't there to work and pay their growing family's bills. Marta was pregnant and then raising a newborn alone. Her partner had been stripped of her and her three eldest boys were relying on her. She took them to a shelter, even baby Marvin, when their house was foreclosed. At only a few months old, Marvin was seeing the inside walls of a community shelter, a place that the majority of Americans will never see themselves, let alone live.

There were no painted walls with family pictures hanging on them. No comforting sofa or inviting bed. Only a foreign mattress, empty walls and a community of strangers beyond Marta's small family.

Marta has received help from DC nonprofit organizations similar to the Pregnancy Center and she's found solace at a local Catholic church. The organizations helped her with her health care and given her advice on next steps. Her priest has offered her a shoulder and probably some needed hugs. Still. It's tough and I see it in her eyes. Nothing has been easy and some steps only lead her backwards. Depression has taken its toll on her. She tells me that at least she doesn't cry all day anymore. My heart aches and I share her burden, if only during our time together.

Keep it together, Meredith. I feel my throat tingling. The tears are welling and my face flushes. Listen. She needs someone to listen.

So I do.

She sits before me and tells me of her hope- a class where she can get become certified in nursing and hopefully find a job to support her family. Once certified, the program helps its graduates find work. Ana's eyes light up as she talks about it. I realize it's her ray. It may be her only sunshine right now. Then the clouds return. The class is $200.

It's not much, but the woman is sitting in front of me and hoping I'll give her $12 worth of diapers and some gently used clothes. To her, $200 is unreachable. She pauses and I pry more. The organization will let her begin the three month program in good faith that she'll find a job within the duration and be able to pay. She tells me that she's scrounged up $50 to show them she's committed. Marta sees it as her only option.

Marta will begin her program tomorrow. The program will provide a babysitter for her boys each night as she works on securing their future. While she listens in the classroom, the boys are a few doors down. In better times, the boys would have been at home at that hour and playing in their rooms while Marta and Carlos talked about baby names.

But these aren't those times.

Marta and I wrap up our time together and my mind is racing, my heart is aching and my spirit is mourning what she's lost. We pray together and I take comfort knowing that the Holy Spirit intercedes for me. My words seem like a scratch on the surface.

Marta's story is one of hundreds that I've heard. No two are alike. No stereotype exists within the walls of the Center. Politics fall away as faces and stories prevail. The night ends and the doors are locked until tomorrow when new stories will fill the Center's walls.

I can't leave untouched and I thank God that I'm not.

(*names have been changed for privacy reasons)

New Followers!

Welcome to McKenzie and Stan!! You guys increased "my followers" by 50% and make me smile! Welcome aboard! Also check out Thirty by the 30th if you get a chance. :)

A Surprise!

A bouquet of the freshest smelling lilies, a cookie, and a love note.

Ryan sure knows how to spoil a girl.
Love.

Cardio-Kickboxing = Kick in the Butt Exercise

As I mentioned in previous posts, I've started another blog, Thirty by the 30th.

Last night, Marie and I went to a cardio-kickboxing class that was amazing. Please forgive the cheapness of referencing another post, but I thought you may get a kick (pun intended) out of our experience. Check it!

P.S. If you're following me on here, I'd love you to also follow me on my new blog! (hint, hint)

The butterfly- 918C

My jaw dropped when I saw some of these pictures. Here's a link to what 918C has become. They gutted all her apartments and turned it into one home. She's beautiful.

I'll always remember 918C fondly as my first DC home. She was quaint, cozy and charming despite her make-shift bathroom, droopy ceilings, a ghetto climbing ladder to reach the drier and the occasional mouse. Sadly, I have no pictures of 918C for comparison when we lived there. I do, however, have memories that will forever be ingrained. It was the location of our first holiday party, Mal and Dave's engagement party, Mal's bachelorette shower and countless get-togethers with friends. 918C's porch was the location of many late night chats, some cries and many jack-o-lanterns. Her steps were creeky and windy, making it impossible for any bed larger than a double to proceed to the second floor. All her windows were drafty and stuffed with plastic bags held in place by duct tape. Still, she offered comfort and ease. I had some of my best naps in that middle bedroom and grew the most I've grown while living in that house.

She's transformed now and is almost unrecognizable, like an old friend after many years. Still, I'll never forget her as she was.

A Feast on the Fourth!

Happy birthday, America!

We had a festive July 4th party with our friends. The yard was decorated, grill was cookin', and the conversation flowing. Our day began in the yard and ended inside, with a trip to the Mall for fireworks in the middle.

Thirty by the 30th!

Three posts so far. Check out my "extra" blog. I'll still use My Palette for posting personal updates, but Thirty by the 30th will be my journey to lose weight by my 30th birthday.

Add yourself as a "follower" to both to get updates on when I add new posts. Readers are part of the experience. I love to hear from you all, even when you write and let me know that I am past due on a new post. You're part of my inspiration!

Thanks for following me on My Palette. I hope to also see you on Thirty by the 30th!

New Blog!!

Something new is brewing in my head and I'm super excited about it. I'm not ready to disclose it yet, but have some big plans up my sleeves and am doing some research.

The motivation: Turning 30

A makeover is in the works- mentally and physically. I'm bringing my new blog along and hope you will enjoy the ride with me...

Graduation!!

If you'd have asked me back in December how much light I could see in that tunnel, I would have answered, "Where are you? It's dark in here and then... wait, there's going to be light?" This weekend, however, the sun was shining brightly and the all around as we celebrated my Master's graduation.

It was a celebratory weekend as family arrived and a milestone was marked. I felt so blessed to feel the love from family in person and from those who couldn't make it to DC. I celebrated with family throughout the weekend and then on Sunday evening Ryan cooked a feast for all of the friends that came over to celebrate.

Thanks to everyone for all the support and walking with me on my journey through graduate school. It's finished!!

The Gulf Disaster

So, I promise to get on here real soon and post some personal updates.

In the meantime, I came across this today in the news and thought I would share it. It's a great link that shows in detail the steps (and lack thereof) that BP has made to fix the oil spill in the Gulf. Be sure to check out the "interactive guide" and "mapping the slick" because they offer visual guides to what has happened and what the heck is being done...

Taxation without Representation

It's been four years in the making, but this city finally got ALL of me. I had a license after year one, but it took me over four years to commit my car to this city. Today I went and filed all my paperwork. It's official, folks. I'm here for a bit longer. My plates (yes, DC has a front and back) now show that I am a DC driver. So, I can't use the NC plates as an excuse for driving slow in DC (cuz I'm likely lost) and I can use the DC plates as an excuse to drive more like a "Yankee" when I go home. You win some, you lose some...

I was pretty psyched today to get my new plates. You're now looking at my fresh parking sticker. Check it:

Birthday Orchids

Every girl loves to receive flowers. When they are delivered to work and as an early birthday present, they are even better! Ryan did good and I am one lucky girl!

Birthday Fun!

This year is the last to be included in the decade of my twenties. So, I made sure to celebrate properly! It was a fun weekend which included dear friends and family. On my birthday morning, I went with Ryan and roomy, Danielle, to our local farmer's market that opened on May 1 (just in time, right?!). After we scoped it out and returned home, Mallory, Ryan and I packed our picnic items and began our next adventure: winery tours! The three of us rode out to VA and met some of my other friends for three winery tastings and an afternoon in the sun. We visited Bluemont, Breaux, and Hillsborough vineyards.

Farmer's market flowers.

The weather and company were perfect! We spent quality time at each location- enjoying each other's company, soaking in the sun, sharing laughs, and celebrating. Besides me, three other people in our group had just celebrated a birthday within the last two weeks, so it was fun knowing that it was more of a birthday "season" (as my friend Jenn calls them) than a birth "day" celebration.

Mal is sporting Ryan's hat as we drive TO the wineries.

Guess one can't be too prepared for fun!

After an afternoon of tastings and picnicking, Ryan drove the sun-weary sisters home. We all chilled for a bit (by "chill" I mean that I took a hard nap for about two hours) and then some more friends came over! So, we kept gabbing and celebrating until the wee hours. It was a long, exhausting and funfilled day.

On Sunday, Ryan made brunch (including funfetti chocolate chip pancakes!) for Mal and me. After an afternoon of errands I came home and he then cooked my "birthday dinner" which I had requested for Sunday evening instead of on my Saturday-bday. Dinner was amazing. He's such a talented chef! He made blackened salmon, mushroom risotto, mashed butternut squash and a mozzarella salad. It was delicious! Not only did he make enough for the two of us, but Marie and Mal joined us AND there was anough left over for lunches. It was a feast!!

I feel so blessed and feel that my "29th" got off to a bangin' start. I can't believe I'm 29, but then again who ever feels their age? Enjoy the pics from the weekend!

Spring Sprang Sprung

I first fell in love with DC in the spring and every year I am reminded why. The blossoms are beautiful, people are emerging from their winter dens, restaurant patios are opening and patrons lounge while catching up with comrades, the sun is shining and the air is warm with promises of fun activities.

The past few weekends have been busy. Three weekends ago, Mallory, Ryan and I went to VA Beach with our friends as some of us participated in the half (Mal and I) and full marathon (our friends!). I thoroughly enjoyed participating in the run with Mal. Ryan was the perfect cheerleader, photographer, and caregiver to us as well. It was a fun weekend and I'm very satisfied with my run time of 2:27:13. My goal was to finish before 2:30:00 and I did it! The next run (yes, you read it right) I'll aim for under 2:20:00. Mallory and I are already eying a run in Myrtle that's in October. Ryan and Marie think they may run in it too. So, we could have a caravan! :)

Last weekend I went to the NC beach to see my college roomy and friend, Melody. She's getting married next month so we went down for the celebratory shower. I also got to see her new house, which is on a beautiful lake. I'm really looking forward to her wedding, which is going to be on the beach. They're renting a huge house on the beach where the ceremony will take place. The wedding party (that includes me!) and family will stay at the house for the weekend. It should be a blast.

This weekend was Easter weekend, one of my favorite times of the year. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the weather has been beyond cooperative. It's been gorgeous! I went with Ryan and some of our friends to my first professional soccer game. We watched DC United play last night in RFK stadium. This morning was church and then he and I joined our friends for an Easter feast. It was delicious!

Sprinkled over the past few weeks, I've gotten to see Mal who has been frequenting DC for job interviews. I hope she'll land something soon. Also, I put the final touches on my thesis for school. I submitted the final (YAY!) version to my school on Friday. It's done and now there's just graduation to anticipate.

I'm hoping to put up some pictures I've taken over the past few weeks and definitely want to include some of our 13.1 mile run in VA Beach.

The Countdown

To my five faithful My Palette followers: Please excuse my neglect. Thanks for your subtle hints that I need to get back on here. I promise to have a fuller report soon. In the meantime, here's the month's review (the skinny version)...

• A successful defense of my Master's Thesis... and my happy acceptance of the new title!
• The completion of a humongo conference at work, which took place in Atlanta. I also met Dr. Francis Collins, one of my idols!
• The budding of a new relationship with Ryan :)
• A vacation to Puerto Rico with roomies Marie and Bastian, and our friend Christoph (visiting from Germany)
• Participating in one of my long-time friend's wedding
• A St. Patty's Day party
• The discovery and appreciation of H Street, a street close to our house that has exciting restaurants and places to go for entertainment

Mallory arrives tomorrow evening for our first sister's half marathon, which takes place on Sunday! We'll be riding down in a caravan of other runners and cheerleaders. The run takes place on Sunday morning, but we're leaving on Saturday for VA Beach to pick up our race packets, check into our hotels, and scope out the town a bit. After the 13.1 mile race on Sunday, we'll celebrate our completion and then head to a couple wineries on the way back to DC. It should be a memorable weekend!

Undies Valentine's Run

I can't believe I missed this undies run-for-a-cause yesterday. Only in DC??

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Winter Olympics

My blog hiatus has hopefully ended. Life was a bit crazy there for a while. Work has been pretty busy since we're preparing for our huge conference in two weeks. I'll be spending a week in Atlanta at the end of the month.

School work has slowed to almost nothing. I turned in my thesis two weeks ago and my adviser wrote back with only a few suggestions for revisions. I actually defend it on Thursday in front of a small panel. My defense is scheduled for 2 pm, so keep me in your prayers! The defense is basically a 25-35 minute presentation of my paper followed by a 10-15 minute Q & A session (in which I am the one answering the questions).

This week was record breaking for DC and it's been cool (figuratively and literally) living here this winter. We saw record breaking snow fall and the most days on record the Federal Government has closed. DC has had the snowiest winter than all other cities in the United States, second only to Syracuse, NY.

I ventured out yesterday to clear my car from the 3-4 foot snow drifts, clear the front sidewalk for us and pedestrians, and shovel the snow from the driveway so I could get my car into it. It took me over three hours and I couldn't help but think if it as the DC Olympics. There are a lot of sports in which residents took part: car and parking spot clearing, sledding, sidewalk clearing, dodging cars as they walked in the streets due to buried walkways, and general walking since the Metro was closed and buses weren't running.

Surprisingly, I'm not hurting too much from my three hour adventure and now have a cleared sidewalk, driveway, and car of which to be proud. Here are some pics of the Snowpocalypse as we have lovingly nicknamed out storm:

It's kind of hard to tell, but the snow piles were 3-4 feet high.The picture below was taken before the second storm came and dumped another 15" on the ground.

We helped to push our neighbors out of snow-stuck spots.
This neighbor caught a lucky break as a Caterpillar came by and made the snow-freeing much faster!My car after I cleared off the snow and dug it out of the snow drifts.Another car I found while clearing out the snow.Below: A finished walkway, with the shovel stuck in the snow to show how deep it was.
The snow was about 5-6 inches taller than the top of the shovel.Below: Ryan's (a roomy's) care buried in our driveway.
You can see where I had already started clearing the drive behind it.
Below: The finished product with my car parked in it! Hard to tell from the pictures,
but the drive is about 30 feet long.And Done.

A Boli's Pizza Guy and Marie Moment

So, every now and then I eat a little humble pie by letting Marie peek through my clothes and pick out ones that I should get rid of (think: I've been holding on to them since the 1990s). To be fair, she's usually right about what I should and shouldn't keep. Sometimes I just need a little prompting to get rid of the skirt I've had hanging there for years with the huge bright pink flowers on it and ribbon belt. It's a given.

However, there were two shirts under her scrutiny that I didn't think were that bad. So, we were in the middle of discussing whether they should go in the Goodwill pile when the pizza guy rang. Here's how the show went...

Marie: "Oh! It's Boli's. I'm gonna ask the pizza guy what he thinks."
Me (laughing): "No!" "Okay, but I want to see his face..."

So, we go down the stairs and she opens the door with the two shirts tucked under her arm. After filling out the credit card receipt she casually slips it in...

"So, can I ask you a question?" The guy pauses and nods.

"If you were to go out with a 28 year old woman, do you think this shirt would be sexy?" She held up the first shirt.

Poor guy. haha. He looked at her and then at me with a huge smile on his face. I could only shake my head and smile. He was on his own.

She prodded, "I mean, do you like this?" She shook it on the hanger.

He assessed the shirt (one I had worn when it was warmer and actually received compliments on!), paused, and answered, "Yeah, I like it. It's cute."

Cute? I'll take it. Nice guy, right?

She looked at him and back at me. I shrugged and said, "See, I told you... it's not bad."

She admitted defeat and gave me the shirt. "Okay," she said as she turned her face to the second one. "But this one..." She held up the second shirt (and one that I will admit to being on its way to retirement). "What about this one?" she asked.

The guy smiled bigger and looked at me again. All I could do was laugh. Marie is hilarious.

He answered, "Yeah. That one's not too bad. I wouldn't throw it away..."

Before I could feel too good about myself, he finished his sentence... "But I wouldn't wear it out."

It's in the Goodwill bag.

A Look Back and Jump Forward

It's been a great new year so far. It's hard to believe that it's the beginning of a new decade. I covered a lot of firsts in the previous. Years 18 to 28 were pretty big ones. I'm excited about the next ten years and what they will hold. It feels good to be in a place where I know who I am and what I want (for the most part!).

2009 was a good year and I had some "firsts": grad school, Paris, Chicago, discovering the Farmer's Market near my house, potato digging on a farm, eating escargot, missing a flight, attending (and hosting) cupcake parties, and seeing the Blue Man Group perform. Lots of travel: MS, LA, GA, SC, NC, MD, IL, NY, and France. As I looked around my New Year's Eve buddies, I realized that I had met all of them in 2009. Also, I discovered a lot of new music in 2009 (this mostly due to having lived with Milton). Finally, I moved from my first "home" in DC to a new home.

Having given up new year's resolution-making a few years ago, I am looking forward to some upcoming, foreseeable events in 2010: completing my thesis and graduating from grad school, completing my first half marathon (March), and doing some more traveling (Hawaii, Germany, Iceland and Spain are on my radar). Since grad school will be behind me, I'm anticipating much more spare time to read the books that have collected over the past year. There is also hope to actually watch the Netflix movies I receive rather than let them collect dust for about two months before getting around to watching them.

So, here we go... I'm ready.