Kumbaya

I didn't manage to write a post yesterday evening because I couldn't seem to muster up the time or energy.  I really need to start getting to bed a little earlier but last night there was volleyball and swimming and diving and sister mercy, what about the gymnastics?  I laughed.  I cried.  I wanted to hug John Orozco when he had such a bad day and I just wanted to hop on a plane and pinch the cheeks of Missy Franklin 'cause she' s the cutest thing that side of the Atlantic right now.  Well, aside from Gabby Douglas.  And who knew there could be so much controversy in badmitten?  Anyway, the Olympics drama and the need to finish editing 6,293 wedding pictures kept me planted on the couch with Photoshop, a remote and a big glass of iced tea until I watched Dannel get his bronze medal.  Yea, Dannel! And THEN I dragged myself to bed.  Oh, and I didn't mean what I said Tuesday about the Japanese men's gymnastics team.  I was just uber excited for the British because what's not to like about the British?  And gosh darn it, they're way behind in the medal count.  I was a little cranky then, but now I'm all Kumbaya.

You may be asking yourself, "I wonder if there's a point where Hula will get burned out on the games and go back to eating bon bons and filing her toenails?"  And the answer would be no.  I can eat bon bons, file my toenails and watch TV all at the same time.  Although, I did bail on some of the synchronized diving last night in order to half heartedly clean the kitchen.  (I never clean with a full heart.  It's just not in my DNA to get ANY pleasure out of cleaning.)  It's not that I don't like synchronized diving.  It's just that I had to miss SOMETHING in order to get some chores done, and it sure wasn't going to be Ryan Lochte.  And I did have to spend a little time on the internet booking a hotel room for our quick trip to Louisville in a couple of weeks.  Score!  In a blind buy on Hotwire last night I got a room at the Galt House in downtown Louisville for $70, which is much less than half price and puts us close to the concert venue.  Slap my bottom and call me baby.  That's a far better deal than when the Nashville downtown Holiday Inn Express tried to plunder me booty for $383 last week.  I toyed with the idea of calling the HIE up last night and shouting, "Boo-ya!" into the phone, but I figured I'd probably just get a very bewildered operator in Fargo, North Dakota.  Sorry, Fargo.  You were the first out of the way place I could think of when typing this.  I'm sure you have a very nice city. 

Ogling the Italian swimmers prompted me to check, for the heck of it, prices for flights to Italy, and they've dropped about $700 in the past month or so.  If they stay that way, we might actually be able to go in May when Teen Angel wraps up the spring semester of school.  My fingers are crossed.  In the meantime, we keep saving.  I put some photography money and some of Teen Angel's tip money from the restaurant into the trip account yesterday.  I felt the need to apologize to the teller for all of the $1 bills.  Or at least clarify that I'm not a stripper.   I also had to apologize for the random pennies stuck in the roll of dimes because SOMEBODY in my house didn't roll change properly.  If we ever get to Italy, I'm going to dub it the George Tour after all of the $1 bills and quarters we saved to get there.

I had to report for jury duty yesterday, which was interesting.  I've done it before, and I don't mind doing it, but because of all the goings on they had at the courthouse yesterday morning, there were no parking spaces at the courthouse, which is unheard of.  Our town just isn't big enough for that kind of traffic issue.  Or I didn't think it was.  It would be like Barney Fife not having enough room in his gun for all of the bullets he carried.  And that's NOT some kind of political statement about gun control.  I'm clarifying that because you can't make a comment in the US about guns, cookies or chicken these days without someone assuming it's a political stance on a social issue.   Anger...it's what's for dinner.  With rainbow Oreos for dessert.    

I managed to avoid getting picked for the grand jury, which normally I wouldn't mind having to do, but they were meeting on every one of my extra days off in the next two months.  In the summer?  When the number of swimming days are dwindling?  Um, I'd rather not.  As it is, I'm in the pool for trial duty for all of August, and they have a busy court docket this month, so it will be interesting to see what I have to do.  I've never minded jury duty.  It's a civic duty, and I'm enough of a legal nerd to enjoy being a part of that process.   Or maybe I just read too much Grisham.  The bottom line is that I'm fine with having to sit on a jury if it comes to that. 

The last time I had to do this I was chosen for a child abuse trial, which actually surprised me because by the time the voir dire was over, I'd admitted to having a brother who was a police officer, a husband who was a retired parole officer, a former career in journalism and being the chair of the board for the local child advocacy center.  I wanted to pull the defense attorney aside, and go, "Dude, are you SURE you don't want to exercise a strike against me?  I don't seem to be your type."  In the end we had to acquit the defendant, even though we felt like he was guilty.  The prosecution just didn't prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt.  While we were following the law, it sure made my stomach queasy to let that guy off the hook.  As daddy would say, somebody needed to take him out back and give him a good arse whippin' for breaking that child's arm.   Our justice system is pretty good, but it's not perfect.

And neither is our society.  We're not perfect, my fellow Americans.  I think Time Magazine got it right when they said 2011 was the year of the protest.  Stand up for what you believe in, but remember, freedom of speech is for everyone, not just those who agree with you, and we're all in this together.  The Olympic games are a reminder of what we can do when we work together for the good of the team.  Can't we all just get along and share our chicken sandwiches with one another?