Jury Duty

I am behind the eight ball. I think that even if I was in front of the eight ball I would be mowed down by the eight ball. We are so busy with Thanksgiving just around the corner. Sister St. Aloysius is up to her eyeballs in new pie recipes. She likes to make at least one new thing per holiday. I say, "give it the Fiacre test. Show Sister Mary Fiacre a picture of the new pie and see if you get any response. If she perks up, there's your winner."

I've mentioned before that we are big coupon clippers. There are great recipes around this time of year with accompanying coupons. I know the two of them are putting their head and a half together.

And of course our little saint matching business always picks up around the holidays, as we make a great stocking stuffer.

So if that wasn't enough to keep me hopping, I have jury duty. I have to report bright and early at the court house to put in for my good citizenship medal. If I'm lucky, they'll toss me right on out and I'll be home by noon for lunch and can pop back over to school to mimeograph the songs for our Christmas program.

(Not really. We don't mimeograph anymore. That's good, because I think people enjoyed inhaling the mimeograph ink way too much. On the other hand, the office staff was almost always in a good mood. Then again, try to find something that was supposed to be filed! No wonder they never seemed to care when things went missing.)

I can't picture myself on a jury. I'm not very gung ho about criminal justice. People like that Nancy Grace woman scare me. I'm amazed that a woman named "grace" enjoys the prospect of revenge so very much. I can't believe a woman named "grace" can spend an hour a day gossiping about alleged criminal behavior based on the thin air of the opinion of another guest who enjoys revenge as much as Nancy does.

I also can't picture myself looking at the poor sad saps that have committed crimes (or not)and being the person responsible for jailing the pathetic bird. I would rather pray for them.

I suppose I can do both. I am one of those people who can walk and talk at the same time, although at my age, if I talk too much while I'm walking, I get winded.

So tomorrow I'll be at the court house until someone figures out I might not make a good juror. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Meanwhile, I've been so behind, if I've missed answering anyone's questions, please be so kind as to ask again to remind me. I promise I'll catch up. This is the only question I'm aware that I've missed:



Is this the convent cat?

No, that is Nora, the cat that plays the piano. Teddy has no talent.

Perhaps that isn't fair. He is a good mouser and he is the mayor of our block. He stands outside on the sidewalk at rush hour (morning and evening) and greets everyone going to and coming from work. He's very punctual and conscientious. When he wants back in he knocks on the door. We've never seen him do it, but we hear the knock. I think he somehow slams the screen door into the door jam and it sounds like knocking. It's not talent. But is it polite.