Monday, March 8th, I was summoned to appear for Harris County Jury Duty.

I’ve never been summoned before, and I have to admit, I was not thrilled when I saw the notice in the mail.

I was even less thrilled when I saw that I had been summoned to appear at 8 am on a Monday morning.

Blech.

The big letters at the top of my summons stated that there was a potential fine of $1,000 for not appearing.

Early or not, I have no desire to write a check like that, I dragged my butt out of bed, chugged some coffee, and headed downtown on Monday morning, in the rain.

Since I didn’t know what to expect, I arrived slightly early and found my way to the massive room where all jurors are assembled, before being shuffled out to courts.

My limited experiences with the legal system have always been, ahem, on the OTHER side, as in traffic court.

The judges and bailiffs in traffic court here are NOT nice. Once, a guy closed his eyes for a split second, in a court where I was waiting for my case to be heard. The judge went bananas at this poor guy and threw him out of the court. I’ve seen them come in and throw people out for wearing shorts, and they pretty much threaten to send you to Siberia if you are within 10 feet of a cell phone.

I came to juror assembly prepared to be patted down and threatened in a similar manner.

Ha.

Slap my a** and call me Sally.

Juror assembly was a whole new world!

First of all, the people were NICE!

And, unlike traffic court where any and all electronics short of pacemakers and hearing aids (and even those would make me nervous,) they had Wi-Fi!

WHO KNEW!

There were clearly people there who had been down this road before.

Experienced jurors brought food. Laptops. Books.

AND CELL PHONES!

As I sat there in amazement, realizing that wow, assisting the justice system was kinda like a free day off work,  in walks one of my co-workers!

We looked at each other and laughed, what are the odds, right, of two of us being called on the same day?

We chatted about work, kids, family, it was nice to have a compadre there with me.

Finally, they start to call juror numbers.

I was in the first group called and sent to the ‘blue square.’

I don’t know who thought of this system.

Basically there were a bunch of colored squares painted on the floor of a room and when they called your group of numbers, you went and stood in that square, kinda like grown up hop scotch.

No sooner had I made it to the blue square, when I turned around, and there was my buddy with me! Of the 2,000 people in there, we had been assigned to the same court!

I wanted to run out and buy a lotto ticket right then.

Once we got in the blue square, the nice baliff (remember, they LIKE you in this part of the legal system) gave us all new numbers. I was 16, my friend was 22. This kinda sealed our fate for the day.

We all lined up like second graders, there were 30 of us, and headed through the underground tunnel system, to our assigned Civil Court.

As we waited for security, I told my buddy, “hey, wouldn’t that be funny if I ran into my mom down here, ” and I explained that my mom is a lawyer.

No sooner had I said that, then there appeared my mom, the Red Headed Lawyer!

She was on one side of security, we were on the other.

I waved at her, and she started to point to my group that had already passed through security….”Luz is in here too!!!!”

Yeah, not only was a co-worker in my group, I had not even noticed that one of my mom’s very best friends was with us also!

I passed through security, found her, and gave her a hug.

“Back up, let me look at you” she said, “your mom told me you are wearing a shirt that is inappropriate.”

I think I failed to mention what I was wearing.

I had this super cute shirt that I bought the day before from Old Navy, that said “Life’s A Beach” on it. Ten bucks, okay?

I really think it’s a cute t-shirt! I mean, okay, the letters are bright orange and maybe  4 inches high, but there was no dress code! I never really seriously thought it would be THAT big of a deal!

We filed into the court room, I could almost hear the DUH DUM Law and Order Music playing right then.

I kinda started to get excited.

I still was not wanting to get picked to sit there all day, but it was getting interesting.

As we walked in, the plaintiffs and defendants all stood up, looking at us like we were about to decide their fate.

The first 15 of us headed to the right, the next 15 of the group headed to the left.

My fate was sealed a little more.

Apparently the right side of the room is really the jury, until they strike out a few people.

We were introduced to the plaintiffs and the defendant, and each attorney.

We had Joe Slick attorney (clearly experienced) and Joe Newbie (not so much experience, looked like he might run for the door a few times.)

This was getting kinda good.

They started the juror selection process…..

Joe Slick got to me and the first thing he asked was, “What does your shirt say?”

“Life’s A Beach,” I said. They all laughed.

More questions.

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever been in a car wreck.”

Up went my hand.

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever seen a chiropractor.”

Up went my hand again.

“Raise your hand if you have bumper stickers on your car.”

Sh*t.

I didn’t wanna lie, who knew what they knew about me!

My co-worker, sitting right behind me, didn’t raise his hand once!

Joe Slick pointed to me. “Juror #16, what does your bumper sticker say?”

I paused.

“Life is good?” I mumbled….

Good grief.

Between the BEACH shirt and my bumper sticker, by this time I was thinking that surely these people think I have lied on my juror form, and they think I am certainly not a 4.0 post-graduate MBA HR Consultant, but more likely a pot smoking hippie who should go to jail for lying on the form.

On every question nearly, my hand went up.

And my co-worker sat silent.

Dammit. I just knew he was gonna get to leave.

They finally finished the questions, sent us out, and then called us back.

Can I have the envelope please?

You could hear a pin drop.

“I will now announce the numbers of those selected for the jury, the rest of you are free to leave.”

He started in order.

13…14….15…..16.

Stupid bumper sticker.

And then as I stood up to file out, I realized he had called my co-worker too!

2,000 people in the room at 8 am, and the guy I sit near at work is on the same jury as me!

Now, I thought, I need to just head straight to Vegas and bet big.

What are the odds of that happening!

The other lucky people left, and within 15 minutes, we were hearing opening statements!

Just like TV!

Only there was one big difference…there was not ONE PERSON in the audience, not a soul!

The case involved a car accident. Who was at fault was not up for dispute, no arguing over that.

This was strictly over damages.

And it had taken TWO YEARS to get this case to a trial.

Sheesh.

I prayed silently that we would be out before 5 pm. And then, I prayed some more.

Joe Slick smoothly did his best, Joe Newbie fumbled, but tried hard.

There were motions to object (sustained and over ruled) and a warning to Joe Slick that he was stepping out of bounds.

It wasn’t as interesting as a big huge trial, but watching the process was kinda cool.

We finally got the case at about 4 headed to the juror room, and started to debate.

Back and forth we went for 90 minutes before we were able to unanimously decide on a verdict.

Did I mention that I had a 7:15 pm flight out of town, scheduled for work?

We filed back in, handed down the verdict, and I raced like a bat out of hell, trying to get to the airport and not miss my flight.

I frantically looked for the parking garage, and was totally lost since we’d gone to the court house using underground tunnels.

I finally found the right garage, started to run in, and the police officer directing traffic blew his whistle and yelled at me.

“HEY!”

I turned to look at him.

“Me?”

“YEAH! YOU! DID YOU GET PICKED?”

“Yeah?” I said, thinking, do I look like a juror or what?

“I REMEMBER YOUR SHIRT!” he said, and laughed.

Life’s A Beach.

Who knew?

Case closed!

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I intended to write today’s blog on a totally different subject.  

But, in my comic book strip of a life, things never happen quite how I intend so I’ve changed gears and the other post will have to wait. Sorry, Mr. D. You got a reprieve.

I flew from Houston to Los Angeles today for a week long work trip. I’ve flown my whole life, all across the globe, but I still don’t like it. I’ve gotten better at it, I accept it, but there is just something to me that feels completely unnatural about being 35,000 feet in the air. I think today I earned my wings though. I earned something, that’s for sure.

A few things you never really want to hear on a plane:

1.) Over the intercom, from the Captain: Sorry for the slight delay, we’ve had a maintenance issue, nothing serious, I promise, we’ll be leaving in a jiffy.

Yep, to me that is just TMI, okay? Like I really need to know that I am now officially trapped on a jumbo jet with 100+ other people that has a ‘maintenance issue?’ He might as well have said, ‘we’re leaving as soon as we fix the broken wing, nothing big.’ Note to all Captains on big flying jets: customers don’t want to hear that there are maintenance issues. Just lie and tell us that the runway is backed up. If there is a maintenence issue and the plane goes down, no one will care anyways that you were kind enough to warn us ahead of time.

2.) Following the Captain’s honest confession about the state of our plane, the very nice woman next to me who was about my age, flying to California for a training, looks at me and says: ‘I’ve never flown before. Ever. I’m a little nervous.’

Whoa buddy, she wasn’t kidding. Bless her heart (which is so not something I would normally say, but she really needed it,) she was a mess. I spent a good two hours of our 3 hour flight, most of it during take off and landing, trying to a.)keep her calm and b.)keep her previous meals out of my lap.

Now, those of you who know me well should right about now either be dying laughing, or dying of shock, or both. Yes me, Shannon, the person who hates to fly more than just about anyone and has white knuckled many flights after downing 3 beers in the airport bar and 2 little bottles of wine on the plane, spent two very calm hours trying to convince this woman we were not all gonna die, and she was not gonna lose her lunch on me. I even impressed myself. I used every fear of flying speech I normally need to tell myself, right on her.

She was so sweet, she really was. But there is only so far you can scooch away from someone sitting next to you in coach. I was by the window, she was in the middle seat.

This was a smooth flight. But, she was greener than Kermit the frog and I was thinking, one small bump and it’s either me or the nice guy to her right and I hope she points his way. I mean it was really close, she sweated, she held her hand over her mouth, I prayed. I was really, really thinking we were about to see Linda Blair in coach.

And all I could think was, if she loses it, I might lose it next and we’ll have a domino puke session 35,000 feet in the air cause who knows how the people around us are gonna react.

We got through it. Her meals remain a mystery. Whew.

3.) Last thing you don’t wanna hear on a plane trip? ‘The bathroom door locks don’t work.’ Now it’s a good thing to hear that before you go in that crawl space of germs to try and use the restroom.

It’s not a good thing to hear once you are in there trying to use the facilities and suddenly realize that although the latch is slid to the right in what is supposed to be a locked position, not only does the door not lock, it really doesn’t stay shut.

And guess how you find that out? After about three people walk in while you are peeing (or trying to in those horrific little closets with the nasty green water and you can almost feel the germy eyes staring back at you…)

You know how airplane bathrooms are. People lined up, squishing by each other and the stewardesses to get by. Apparently no one mentioned to the staff that the lock was broken until yours truly made it in there.

I tried to consecutively pee and push the lock back into place(sorry for the details) but it wasn’t happening. I gave up, let go of the lock, and shocked the sam hell out of 2 more people who started to open the door and saw my smiling face looking back up at them.

Then I tried to hold the darn lock and get my blue jeans up and buttoned and if you ever find yourself in this situation, I can tell you first hand, it’s damn near impossible to hold an airplane bathroom lock and button blue jean shorts.

By that time, I could of cared less and let go of the lock so I could get out of there. Finally, I was able to get out of the bathroom with no toilet paper hanging out of my pants, and everything zipped and buttoned, and went and sat back down next to my new green friend who was sipping a Sprite and taking deep breaths.

All I could think about was, when did I miss the lady with the wine cart? And is she coming back?

(Reprinted from last summer. I’m flying back to LA tomorrow, assuming I am not picked as a juror tomorrow morning, as I am also called for Harris county jury duty.)

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Wednesday night, I made Chase leave his man-cave and come with my while I tried to walk both dogs.

Robert and I had walked Koda last weekend, I knew there was no way I could handle it alone.

Chase took Harley, I had Koda.

The problem with the dogs right now is that trying to walk them both has been an ordeal in foolishness.

We look like plumb fools, strolling through our tree lined neighborhood.

Walking Koda is like walking the Macy’s Day Parade version of Winnie the Pooh. She just strolls along, so sweet. But, bless her heart, if she wants to go somewhere, let’s say she happens to see, um a squirell? Well, you have no choice but to go with her. And after a walk with Koda, even a SLOW walk, you feel like you’ve just been through a work out with Jillian Michaels. (Not that I’ve ever worked out with her. I’m just guessin’.)

On the other hand, we have Ms. Harley, who is like walking Tigger on steriods. She is up, down, all over, yanking, pulling, panting, and basically acting like the juiced up puppy that she is.

Imagine the scene…

Trying to walk a dog as big as a Barnum and Bailey’s elephant with one leash, and juiced up pooch on the other.

It didn’t work out very well.

We didn’t make it very far, and I sent Chase back to the house with Harley, primarily because she sounded as if she was going to just rupture her larynx trying to get near Koda.

Koda and I lumbered along, I just held on for dear life and prayed that she didn’t decide to JOG because I would have had some major road rash. Fortunately, she walked nicely and we made it back home.

That night, my dad let me know that he decided to try a prong collar on his dog Buddy.

Both of us had been a little hesitant to try prong collars, but he said after one day, Buddy was like a different dog.

Thursday, I ran into PetSmart on my way home and looked at the prong collars.

Just the look of them made me nervous. They looked medieval. And mean.

I grabbed two, and made sure to ask what the return policy was.

If my dog’s didn’t morph into new walkers as Buddy had done, those things were going back.

I waited until the kids got home, and put a collar on each dog.

I was still nervous. They are clanky and look harsh. They hang loose around their necks, but they just looked painful.

Chase took Harley, I took Koda. A repeat of the night before. Off we went.

Each dog tried to pull a little at first.

And, like magic, each dog sat straight down.

Chase and I looked at each other.

Huh.

Maybe we were on to something.

We walked some more and in less than 5 minutes, each dog was walking at an absolute normal pace.

My dogs looked like they had gone from being juiced up, to being given valium.

It was absolutely amazing.

We just walked and walked, and eventually, Chase was able to give me both leads and I was able to walk both dogs on my own, one on each side.

Okay, where’s the water. I’m sure they’re walking on that next. It seemed like a miracle.

We walked, Chase and I and both dogs and there was no pulling at all, it was amazing.

The idea that I will be able to walk both of them without being dragged down the street by Koda, or having Harley end up with a bark that sounds like Kim Carnes singing Bette Davis eyes, is something we weren’t sure would happen for a long time.

They are amazing, I love them, my girls.

They follow me around when I’m at home, like I’m a mama duck and they are my chicks.

I walk, they walk behind me.

They play and horse around and Koda sleeps, and then they play some more.

I love the fact that Harley is my walker and if I want to walk for exercise, I’ve got my little jogger ready.

Nothing scares her at all, not even a 100 pound Bull Mastiff, and she would get in front of anyone if they came near us. She is tough, sweet, sassy and playful.

And Koda could really be named Yoda.

She has a serene, calm energy that instantly calms me. When I work at home, she lays right next to me and something about her calm presence calms me down as well.

They are the perfect Ying and Yang, and they’ve hit if off fabulously.

Most of all, I finally can say, “Come on girls, let’s go!” in my own house.

And for once, I am not entirely outnumbered.

 (For the record, the prong collars come off unless we’re walking. And, if you’re a new reader, both dogs are rescue dogs. Harley was chained to a tree before she was rescued by a local group and we adopted her in October. Koda is a pure bred Bull Mastiff who was chained to a tree in a yard for nearly two soild years. The vet pointed out two pressure points on her today that are probably from being tied up in one spot. I am so happy to let them do exactly what they are doing in these photos….sleep all day, inside, on couches, for the rest of their lives.)

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