Summing Up the Trial of the Century

The trial of the century is over, and while the defendant, Casey Anthony, sleeps soundly after being acquitted of murder, the rest of the country is left in a state of shock.

Not guilty? Really?

Whether the jury came up with the right or wrong decision in this case, I'm not going to discuss. It doesn't matter - the trial is over; the jury has spoken; and it's done. Ms. Anthony goes free in a week.

However.

However.

There's a niggling question in the back of my mind that I have to address, and it is this...

How - in all that is holy - did the jury reach a decision in less than 11 hours???

There were 33 days of testimony...

Over 400 pieces of evidence...

And 7 charges against Ms. Anthony...

And yet the jury would have us believe that they could review the testimony, review the evidence, review the judge's instructions, and then deliberate on not ONE - but SEVEN charges against her - in LESS than 11 hours???

In the honor of full disclosure, I should say right here that I have never been on a criminal jury...and I never will be, due to circumstances in my life from long ago...let's just say that attorneys seem to frown on having crime victims sit on a criminal jury. Go figure.

Anywho, I HAVE sat on a civil jury.

Fifteen years ago, a man and wife filed a lawsuit against their insurance agency...their house had been robbed, their jewelry and fur coats taken - and the insurance had refused to pay damages on their claim.

There was a problem...in that the couple had never ADDED these items to their insurance, and therefore, did not have insurance on the items taken.

But, but, but - they argued in court - they had INTENDED to add these items, and the insurance agent should have known they INTENDED to add these - and therefore, they should be reimbursed for these rather costly items.

After listening for a full day of testimony, we, the jury, adjourned to our jury room for deliberations...and we deliberated.

We didn't make a rush to judgement. We sat and looked at all of the testimony, all of the evidence, all of the papers entered into court - and we then, and only then, began deliberating.

It took over four hours for us. And this was a rather "simple" case, as cases go.

The Casey Anthony case was far from simple - and yet, seven unanimous decisions (3 Not Guilty; 4 Guilty) were reached by 12 people in approximately 10 hours and 45 minutes.

Unbelievable.

One of the jurors has said that the evidence just didn't add up.

I'm sorry...but if you ask me? The math just doesn't add up.

Peace.

Consideration All Around

Waking up rather early Saturday morning, I sleepily stumbled out of my bedroom and began my usual routine of heading to the kitchen to forage for the nearest caffeine.

However, upon leaving my bedroom, I encountered a most-unusual sight...

What's this? A note? Taped to the post outside my bedroom door?



Hmmmm......curious.

I had to step a little closer to see what this intriguing note said...


"Jackman in there"

"Jackman" would be my son's best friend. Apparently, my son was warning me that his BFF was in the kitchen on an early Saturday morning.

However, upon later reflection, I'm not sure WHO exactly my son was warning...

Was he trying to prevent me from being startled by the sight of Jackman?

...or to warn Jackman from being startled by the sight of me? In my pajamas? In my very-scary bed-head-and-all, no-make-up Saturday morning glory....?

Either way, it was very considerate of him, I think...

...and very considerate of me, on what I did next...

I turned around and promptly went back to bed, preventing Jackman from having a heart attack and giving me some much-needed additional sleep.

A win-win.

Peace.

The Worst Day of the Year

As someone who suffers from severe kovtapyroergasoiphobia, as I do, today is a most-awful day.

Yes, indeed.

Today is the WORST DAY OF THE YEAR for kovtapyroergasoiphobia sufferers....

What is kovtapyroergasoiphobia, you ask?

Fear of fireworks.

'Tis true. I suffer from a most-unusual fear of fireworks.

My mom says this phobia began as a baby...she loves to tell the story of how she was changing my diaper on the evening of July 4th, 1962, when a most-deafening explosion occurred, and um...let's just say...it wasn't a pretty sight. On my end. So to speak.

Well...I was only two weeks old...what did she expect?!

(And here is proof that there's a definite sadistic steak within my Mother, due to the fact that she even loves to tell this story. I mean, really...is nothing sacred?)

So, all throughout my childhood, and even into adulthood, I dreaded - DREADED - fireworks displays and all of the accompanying loud explosions....Most of the time, you will find me staying at home, buried under my pillows, as the family goes out to the neighborhood displays.

Argh.

My family used to tease me and say that I must be part "dog" - since it's a well-known fact that most dogs suffer from kovtapyroergasoiphobia, as well. I just like to think that my ears are extra-sensitive.

Even knowing that it's July 4th - and knowing that there WILL be fireworks - I still jump out of my skin at every boom...every bang...every pow.

Sigh.

Don't misunderstand my fear, though. I LOVE July 4th - what with the picnics, the hot dogs, the trips to the lake, and get-togethers with the family - and knowing we're celebrating our independence as a country....

But really...does it have to be done with fireworks???! That make loud NOISES??!!

Give me some chocolate cake and a nice glass of milk, and I could celebrate just fine, thank you very much.

So, think of me tonight, as the night skies light up and it sounds like World War 3 happening in my own backyard...send a little prayer up that I don't go fleeing into the night, trying to escape the thunderous booms that will last until the wee hours of the morning...

Have a little sympathy for all of the kovtapyroergasoiphobia sufferers out there.

We're going to need it tonight.

Happy Independence Day, my friends.

Empty Nest Syndrome? Ha.

Last night, we had a very rare moment in our house.

The moon must have been in the seventh house, whatever that means, and Jupiter must have aligned with Mars...

...and the boys were at their Dad's house...and Dear Daughter was at a sleepover...

...and Hubby and I looked at each other and realized...

...that... WE WERE ALONE.

(Insert dramatic music here)

After recovering from the initial shock that we found ourselves in after this realization, all sorts of lascivious and salacious thoughts starting running through our heads, as we discussed what we could do with our rare kid-free evening....

Watch an R-rated movie on TV???

Drink delicious alcohol-laden drinks with abandon????

Rip each other's clothes off and (gasp) chase each other through the house????

Nah.

We watched a Merchant Ivory movie and then fell promptly to sleep.

At 10:00 p.m.

So much for the best-laid plans.

As the kids have gotten older, I've been told that I should appreciate the moments that I still have with them, because when they're all gone and out of the house for good, I'll most likely suffer from "Empty Nest Syndrome."

.

.

.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Excuse me while I pick myself up from the floor, where I fell over from laughing so hard.

Empty Nest Syndrome?

Not going to happen.

Remember...we are a family of 9...seven kids and two very-outnumbered and very-tired parents.

When - and if - I ever get to an empty nest, I will not be suffering.

I'll be celebrating.

And whether I choose to celebrate by watching R-rated movies, or drinking alcohol with abandon...or by going to sleep at the not-so-late hour of 10:00 p.m...

...It's going to be a little piece of heaven.

Peace.

A Lesson on Patience

The next time I complain about having to do something that I reeeeaaaaaalllllly don't want to do, I'm going to remember Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel.

In 1508, Michelangelo was very happy doing what he did best - sculpting. He loved to sculpt. Give him a hammer and a giant piece of marble, and he was one happy guy.


One day, David...one day, I'll get to visit you...sigh...

He also wrote sonnets. Bad sonnets, apparently.

He wrote a rather mocking sonnet one day about the current Pope at that time, Pope Julius II. Julius was understandably not happy about this sonnet, and hauled Michelangelo into his private domain to read him the riot act about writing derogatory sonnets about Popes. Not cool.

The Pope decided Michelangelo had too much time on his hands, if he could be writing bad sonnets, so he decided to give him a project.

"Paint my ceiling, " the Pope demanded, pointing to the Sistine Chapel.

Michelangelo initially refused, which was kind of silly, because when the Pope asks for something - well, demands something, actually - it's pretty much a waste of time to say "no" to the Pope.

"I'm a sculptor - not a painter," Michelangelo tried to tell the Pope.

And we all know what happened...Michelangelo spent the next four years of his life, painting that ceiling.

Our family just watched a movie that tells this story much better than I just did...Rex Harrison and Charlton Heston, in the 1965 "The Agony and The Ecstasy".


You know it has to pretty good with these two guys...

This movie was pretty darn good. Even the kids enjoyed it...so much so, that they've watched it TWICE in the last few days. It really brings the story to life, and shows just how much work, how much agony, Michelangelo put into that ceiling.

But the ecstasy of the finished product...???

Wow.

I visited the Sistine Chapel when I visited Rome in 2009, and it was truly take-your-breath-away beautiful. At the time, I really didn't know the entire "back" story of how it got painted, so if - and when - I ever see this ceiling again, I'll know the story.

And the next time my kids start arguing with me about having to do something they don't want to do, I'm just going to go all "Pope Julius" on them, and tell them, "I don't care if it takes you FOUR years - ON YOUR BACK!"

Because now they know.

When Popes...or Moms...want something done...it WILL get done.

Peace.