Flip Flops

I am wearing this excellent pair of flip flops. They are bright yellow and have posies on the toesies.

Sacramento summers are warm and flip flops are the perfect footwear fashion statement. I have lime green ones with pink soles, hot pink patent leather, red leather, brown leather (all purpose shoes), high heeled black crepe for the more formal occasions, straw bottoms with a margarita glass print on the straps, and I could use even more. They work for so many reasons.

• They let ones toes spread out in a very comfy manner and the feet breathe.
• There are no stinky tootsies when wearing flip flops.
• They come in an amazing array of colors and styles.
• You don't have to pay $100 a pair at Nordstrom for them.
• They are perfect for the casual lifestyle I lead these days.
• They are easy to get on and off at the airport.

Hail flips flops! They are one of the nicest parts of summer.

No Civic Duty

My foray into the world of professional jurist was anticlimactic. I packed my FA abstinent lunch in my cooler, loaded that into the trunk of my car (not sure what they would allow into the courthouse and it is just too much to tote around all day), put on my not-too-little-old-lady outfit, and left for the courthouse at 7:15 -- yep, that is AM. I had already talked with my sponsor, meditated, had breakfast, and done the previous night's dishes.



Arriving at 7:40, I discovered that you could already not only get into the building, but check in at the jury room. These people start early! I settled myself into a black plastic chair and readied myself to work for the greater good of mankind.



I quickly realized that my concerns about not owning professional attire were unfounded. If I had really wanted to fit in, I'd have purchased and applied a bunch of those temporary tattoos you can buy for children. From the looks of some of my fellow prospective jurors the term "a jury of your peers" has a deeper meaning than I had thought.



First we had a recorded orientation. Then we had 2 hours of sitting while watching the RVers (or something like that -- they show DVD movies that couldn't possibly offend anyone while you wait). They called about 24 people for one jury panel, assuring us that there would be at least two more panels called by the end of the day. Then there was a two hour break for lunch. I ate my packed lunch, then went window shopping. Downtown Sacramento really has become a scene of urban blight. Except for Macy's and Z Gallerie, there isn't any place to shop. No wonder Roseville gets so much of our sales tax.



After the break they showed Night at the Museum, again assuring us that there were more juries to be drawn. Most of the people from the first panel seemed to come back in and a jury from earlier in the week checked in with the Clerk and got some sort of paperwork. At 3:30 or so they announced that any jurors in the mezzanine or hallway were to return to the jury room. This is it, we thought. Prepare to make momentous decisions. Not to be. The little man announced that no more jurors were needed for that day and we were asked to stand in line to get our proof of service. Interesting. Reading my book and watching DVD movies is serving. How easy is that?

Jury Duty

I thought I had been able to make it through once again. I had "Jury duty" this week. Last time I had it -- two years ago -- I called in as directed until Wednesday afternoon and then was dismissed. Since I am in group three (out of three) I expected to have the same experience this time.

It was not to be. This evening at 5:01 I called the magic number only to be instructed to show up tomorrow morning with my badge and parking doohickey, ready to serve the greater good of mankind. Rats! Not that I don't want to do my civic duty, but I had planned to leave the middle of next week to visit Mom in San Diego and this may just jinx our plans.

For the time being, however, I have a greater problem. What does one wear to Jury Duty? Last time I actually had to go to the courthouse I was still working. I simply wore work clothes. Now -- having been retired for six years -- I don't own such apparel. I have workout clothes, house cleaning/gardening clothes, cute little outfits for lunching with the girls, and nicer things for going to a concert or the opera or something. I have decided to go for cute -- crop pants and an embroidered top that probably will so scream "little old lady who is so out of it all" that the attorneys for the plaintiff and the defendant can't possibly take me seriously. Maybe I will get to go to San Diego after all.

My Personal Assistant

Most of our cats live in the family room/kitchen/laundry room part of the house, but the Red Prince has decided he lives up front where I often am. He sits in the window and prompts me to improve my prose when I find time to blog and to concentrate when I meditate. Yesterday he helped Alex wash the living room window and even added some nose prints to the inside to decorate it. He sleeps at the foot of our bed (not on the pillows or on us). Really not a lap cat, he just likes to be with.

He has always lived here -- born under our house three years ago -- and is a picture perfect handsome boy. He loves to sit in windows and look out to the park. He has gorgeous green eyes and a lovely pink nose. He was always the cat friendliest to the foster kittens, but now he seems to need time to himself. Special one-on-one time. We are glad to give it to him.

Curves is going to close

We think our Curves is closing. We knew that the rent was being raised beyond what the franchisee is able to pay and that she would not be able to stay in the current location. Apparently the situation grew worse when 30-count-em-30 members resigned last week. This morning we learned that she has not paid this month's rent. Her personal possessions are all packed and waiting in boxes near the back door. The facility is full of tens of thousands of dollars worth of computerized equipment and we are wondering if a U Haul truck will be spiriting that away during the night soon.

When I returned from San Diego just over a week ago there was a sign on the neighborhood coffee place (next to Curves) apologizing to all of their faithful customers -- about 20 of us lately, I think -- and explaining that they would have to cease business. It was a done deal by the time I found out. The little Real Estate office closed months ago. The Dollar Store run by a lovely Indian family has been gone since mid-2008 -- not because Dollar stores are not doing well, but because the landlord raised their rent to such a lofty sum that they could not make a profit. The great Japanese restaurant is (so I have heard) still OK at dinner but has very few customers at lunch. The Super Suppers has announced they will not renew their lease and is selling cupcakes an yogurt to eke out enough to pay the rent until the current lease ends. All of these businesses are or will be sorely missed by those of us who live nearby.

My workout buds are especially upset about the loss of our little clubhouse. We met today and made a list of names, addresses, phone numbers, and E-mail in case we show up Friday and find the doors locked and a note on the window. We are exploring other places where we could all work out and plan to meet for lunch once a month in any case. The Curves gang is as much a social experience as a physical workout for most of us. We are young retirees and we need our 3-times-a-week pals. These ladies were an amazing source of support for me when Nancy was battling cancer and I was in LA for so many months. They kept me in the loop with cards, notes, and E-mails. We can all join a coed gym, but it just won't be the same. You can't talk about hot flashes and the effects of weight loss/gain on the female body with a bunch of guys around. Our workouts have made us all such late life babes that the guys will probably hit on us and make us feel uncomfortable.

Rats!

San Diego Pictures

As previously reported, we had a fun day at an art walk/street fair in San Diego's Little Italy. I finally got enough software downloaded to transfer the pictures from Alex's camera to my computer -- and here they are. in obvious order: Our friend Fonce waving from his booth, the sculptor with his gorgeous lady -- she is even more amazing in real life, and Pat and I checking out some colorful paintings. Fonce was the groom at the February 50th Anniversary party we attended in San Diego -- thus the amazing houseful of art I described.

I'm Almost at the Goal

One of my goals for 2009 was to lose 30 pounds. I weighed myself yesterday morning, and I have lost 25 of that 30. My original goal weight will put me right at the top of my recommended guidelines -- and I have decided to go for another 15, putting me in the bottom half. I had to buy new summer pants (and have discovered thrift store shopping). I'm a single digit size for the first time since my thirties. I can pass the plumb line test again (you hang a plumb line from mid chest and it has to fall straight without bumping up against your tummy). I'm looking forward to hitting my goal and starting to rebuild a wardrobe in whatever size I may be at the end.

As for the other goals:

• I'm not doing very well with the storage. I have simplified what my mother stores. Does that count? Maybe I need to move.
• As more and more of my clothes no longer fit the wardrobe is shrinking. My budget isn't going to allow me to buy too many clothes for a while.

On the Mom front: She felt well enough to go out to dinner with my sister last night -- very spicy Thai food -- another big step. She continues to get better every single day. Just a few more steps and I think she could move from assisted to independent living. The difference, for those of you who haven't dealt with these fine points yet, is that she needs a bit of help with dressing and bathing. People who do well at those things, and need a walker only for balance or help when going far, live in the independent section. People who need lots of help go into nursing homes.