[Dating Papers]

Today was productive–at work. I did have jury duty, but it was blissfully short. We didn’t have to arrive until 10:45. I had an appointment in the morning so I didn’t go to the office. Jury duty only lasted about an hour. The court officer had lunch delivered for us (a first), so we ate sandwiches and waited for the call. It came about 11:30. We filed into the courtroom, in our usual order, and took our seats. (We sit in assigned seats, by juror number, so we have to walk into the courtroom in the same order every day.)

We were in court for maybe 15 minutes. The last piece of evidence was read into the record and then we were dismissed for the rest of the day. It took me a few minutes to gather my things and I left. I figured I’d go to work, but before I did that, I sat out on the Mall for about half an hour and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Maybe I even did some knitting. Then I went to the office. And I worked.

I was quite productive. It only took three days to get back into the rhythm. I got a few things done on Thursday, more on Friday and, today even more. I plan to do some work at home this week and I’m confident I’ll get it finished.

My good work buddy, TR, was there–he was on travel last week–and he stopped by to say hello. I told him some jury duty tales and we talked about the meeting I had on Friday. TR said, “You should know, we miss you around here.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, something will come up and we’ll say, where’s Jamy? She’d know about this.”

“Oh, you mean with computer problems?” I’m the go-to person for any computer questions.

“No, no, other things.” TR said and laughed.

“Oh, really? That’s…I didn’t know.”

TR’s comment and my boss’s compliment on Friday made me feel good about work. Actually getting work done felt even better. I’ve always thought I’d be most productive if I worked a shorter day–8 hours is just too much. Five hours is much more reasonable.

Tomorrow, it’s back to jury duty. We’ll hear closing arguments and, after that, go to deliberations. I’d say we have at least another week, possibly two, before it’s over. I’m finally starting to miss my office, the small social interactions at work, the ability to be productive–and the chance to talk about whatever I feel like.

Jury duty has taken the majority of my time for the last seven weeks and I can’t talk about it even with my fellow jurors. It’s frustrating. But much more frustrating is the way it regiments my time. I’m glad to be of service but I’ll be ready to get back to work when it’s over. Who woulda thunk it?

Grateful for: work.

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Saturday started out super lazy. I just poked around at home doing minimal cleaning, knitting and feeling sorry for myself. I wasn’t miserable, just a little blue. I still hadn’t decided about the party that night. I made it out of the house for some coffee, but I went right back home. I decided if staying home felt good, I would let myself enjoy it. I did.

At 6:30pm the phone rang. It was Kansas asking me to the baseball game. I’d told him it was ok if he invited me at the last minute. I rode the bike to RFK to meet him and was there before the first pitch. It’s only about a 15-minute ride from home and by far the easiest way to get there.

The game was fun, but he was really loud and obnoxious. It made me wonder if I wanted to go to another game with him. To be fair, the loud, obnoxious Mets fans were provocative. It was a good game. Twelve innings! Kansas wanted to leave in the bottom of the 12th, but I refused to go until the last out. I think I got some props for that.

I still wasn’t sure about the party. I figured I could do both. (I wore an, ahem, appropriate shirt to the game so I’d be prepared for party time if it ever came.)

After the game, we walked back to the bar. He made it clear that he wanted me to join him. That should not be remarkable, but it’s not Kansas’s habit to issue direct invitations. However, he did directly invite me and I tagged along because, well, because I did.

We walked and talked and it was fine. We got to the bar, and given that I wasn’t drunk, I had a drink. And, since I was starving, I ordered fries. Yum. Well, not that yum, but good enough to eat.

We paid up and stood outside while Kansas smoked. It was a bit after midnight and I thought, “I’m ready to go to the party.”

I’d invited my friend, PW, to the party at the last minute. He had dinner plans earlier in the evening but said that if I were going to the party late, I should give him a call. I’d told him Owen would be there and I needed some moral support. At12:15, I called PW while I was standing on the sidewalk outside the bar.

I didn’t tell Kansas what I was doing, but with the phone to my ear, he said, “You should go to the party.” I said, “That’s what I’m doing.” I stepped away when PW answered so I could hear him. He said, “Did you get my email?”

I said, “Email? No, I’m not home.”

“Oh. Well, I wasn’t sure if it was ok to call so late, so I sent an email. Do you want to go to the party?”

I said, “Yeah. Heh. I didn’t even hesitate to call you.”

PW said, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

I told him and we hung up. I went back to Kansas and told him PW was coming to get me to go to the party. I never considered inviting Kansas and he never hinted that he wanted to go. I did feel a little guilty for not including him but I didn’t do anything about it. If he’d spent the entire evening talking about a party and didn’t invite me, I wouldn’t have liked it one bit.

I could tell that Kansas wanted to leave–either to go back to the bar or home–but he felt he should wait until my ride arrived. I told him he could go but I didn’t insist. I was actually happy to have him wait with me. He finally went inside and less than a minute later PW arrived. (I left my bike locked in front of the bar. I picked it up on Sunday afternoon.)

When we got to the party around 12:45, it was packed. One of the first people I saw when we squeezed our way into the kitchen was Owen’s roommate, Barry. I was happy to see him and he introduced me to the two friends he was talking to, one of whom appeared to be his girlfriend. In turn, I introduced them to PW. I always liked Barry and it looked like he was happy to see me too.

PW went for beer but both kegs were tapped. I stepped out the back door and surveyed the yard from the top of the steps. I caught sight of Owen. I wasn’t sure if I should go down to talk to him. So I did nothing. PW and I stayed the kitchen and found something to drink–straight vodka (ick!)–and a corner to drink in. We watched the crowd and chatted. I said I wasn’t sure if I should say hi to Owen or if I even wanted to say hi.

Then Owen walked by. He said, “Hi!” and kept going. I was astonished.

I turned to PW and said, “What was that?”

“Maybe he was getting in the bathroom line.”

“Harrumph.”

When Owen walked by us the second time, he said nothing. And the third time? Also nothing.

I said, “Unbelievable!” I suggested we go out back for some air. It was easy to find a place to stand since the crowd had cleared quite a bit. The evening was pleasant. Owen came back outside, but he still didn’t come say hello to me.

Finally, I stepped up to him and said, “Are you kidding? Are you really not going to talk to me at all?”

The look on his face–surprise and confusion–was priceless. He said, “No, I, no, I wasn’t…”

“Ok. But you walked right by me!”

“No, you know me, it was just crowded and I had to get where I was going.”

I thought, “I don’t know you.” I said, “Ok, I’m sorry. How are you?”

We had a short, civil conversation. I introduced him to PW, who then faded away. Barry came by and we three talked. Barry announced that Owen had gotten a big raise. Owen told me he’s now supervising three people and working ten hours more per week. I thought, “Why did I ever think he’d have a new girlfriend? He’s married to his job.”

PW came back and Owen and friends said goodnight and left the party

Despite my mini-tempter tantrum, the meeting went reasonably well. Owen is likeable and cute but it’s hard to believe that we dated, that it was semi-serious and that I wrote thousands of words about it. Oh well. I don’t even want to read back and remind myself what I was thinking. I’m content to have forgotten the whole thing for now…there’ll be plenty of time for remembering later on.

PW drove me home and he came in and talked for a while. It was very late when he left but I wasn’t tired at all. Eventually, I managed to put myself to sleep. With the help of the good, heavy drapes I have in the bedroom I slept until almost ten.

It sure wasn’t my typical Saturday night, but I enjoyed it.

Grateful for: moral support.

Original Article syndicated via RSS from Grateful Dating

I am getting sick of candy. Me! Not interested in candy! Crazy. I was in CVS and thought, I don’t want to buy more candy. I got sugar free mints and almonds instead.

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I still like Kansas. Sigh.

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I haven’t decided if I’m going to the party on Saturday, but if I do, I’m wearing a shirt that shows cleavage.

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I went to the Nats game with Pele on Friday. Nats won! Good fun.

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When I was back in the office on Thursday, I ran into one of the cleaning ladies who is kind of my buddy. We only smile and say hi, but I have a warm, friendly feeling towards her. When she saw me, her face lit up. I thought, “She must have wondered what happened to me.” I told her, “I was away…I’m on jury duty.”

She said, in her slightly broken English, “Oh, I wonder. I ask the ladies in your office where you were. They say, you come back next week.” And she beamed at me.

It was so nice of her. I was pleased that our smiling and nodding friendship is mutual.

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On Friday I had a Very Important Meeting with my most difficult contractor. It went well, but I felt like I was fumbling around and a bit uncertain–not as present as I would like to be.

After the meeting, which my boss attended, we had a quick debriefing. He said, “It went well.”

I said, “I agree.”

He said, “You really are good.”

I was surprised. “Really? I can’t tell.”

My boss tends to see the negative, so if he praises you, you know it’s for real. It made my day…and more.

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I want to be the foreperson for my jury. I can accept it if I’m not. But I’m not going to defer. If anyone suggests I do it, I’ll accept.

Grateful for: days off.

Original Article syndicated via RSS from Grateful Dating

Contrary to popular opinion, I’m terrible at making friendships work with guys I like. Terrible.



Last night, on my way home from court, I was in a great mood. We got out a little early and we’re off Thursday and Friday. I was so excited! The weather was lovely and I called Kansas. He has my umbrella and I’d like to get it back. Not sure if I thought I’d stop by his house for it or what…but, do I really need a reason to call?



He didn’t answer, but just a few minutes later he called back. I chatted at him about my day and how happy I was to have some time off from the trial. I mentioned I’d like my umbrella and he seemed reluctant to return it. I told him he could keep it another couple of days because I’d ride my bike on Thursday (rowing after work), so I couldn’t use it then anyway. While we were talking he asked, “So, are you going out tonight?”



I said, “Maybe.”



And that lead to a meeting at the usual bar.



Don’t worry, everything remained on the friendship level. However, I get about zero credit for that–all thanks go to Kansas for taking me seriously when I asked for his help drawing the line. He drew it and kept us on opposite sides. Even so, we had a good time hanging out and I got home at a reasonable hour. I didn’t go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but slightly sleep deprived at work is no problem. I felt like quite the rebel for staying up past my bedtime. (What did I do? Knit! Did you really have to ask?)



A funny thing about being friends with Kansas is that I feel a bit rejected. Not sure how that can be when I’m the one that chose to change the nature of the relationship. But, despite his late night calls and visits, it was Kansas who’d been holding back. Last night, he mentioned an ex-gf who he’s still friends with and I got annoyed. He was surprised–and annoyed back because I’d mentioned how I might see my ex (Owen) at a party this weekend (still haven’t decided if I’m going).



I couldn’t really explain my annoyance (jealousy) and I sure wasn’t going to tell him what I was thinking. But I’ll tell you. The thought was, “Why would he be willing to date anonymous ex-gf, but he won’t date me?” Yeesh. Irrational much? I won’t date Kansas–he is not available and he would be a terrible-with-a-capital-t boyfriend. He knows it, I know it. It doesn’t mean I don’t want it, but I’ve consciously decided not to pursue it and that will have to be good enough.



Anyway. There I was having my irrational thought and, in passing, Kansas says something like, “I’d just disappoint you.” It wasn’t apropos of dating and I don’t remember the exact context, but the phrase stuck in my head and by the end of the evening it caused a full-fledged “click.”



We talked about it later. I said, “You don’t want to date me because of the heavy weight of expectations. You think you’ll disappoint me.”



Kansas said, “I didn’t say that you’re too good for me. Not at all.”



“I didn’t say that either. I don’t think I’m too good for you. I don’t think I’m better than you. But YOU think that.”



“I don’t think you’re better than me, I just think you deserve better.”



I said, “How is that different? Oh, you mean I deserve better treatment.”



“Obviously! Of course you do! I’m a jackass.”



And then it all made sense. My entire life I’ve run into a certain kind of guy–basically a good guy who has some issues–who feels the need to save me from my attraction to him. Things will never work out with Kansas because he has a huge fucking unresolvable issue. But just because he has a huge unresolvable issue doesn’t mean we don’t like each other. We do, quite a lot, and that makes it hard to be friends. It will make it hard to be friends and behave myself. But I guess I can trust Kansas.



All my life, it’s annoyed the hell out of me that these guys want to save me from myself, that they want to protect me, that they worry about hurting me. I’m not a teenager. I’m not innocent or naive. But there is something about me that still gives that impression, that brings out that caretaker, saver, preserver in certain men. I’m a nice girl, a good girl, and there are certain ways you treat a woman like me. Like it or not, it’s still true.



When I got over being annoyed, I realized that I should be grateful to Kansas for being strong when I wasn’t, for looking out for me even though it wasn’t to his advantage, for taking me seriously and doing what I’d asked. It gives me hope that maybe, against heavy odds, we actually will, eventually, painfully, figure out how to be friends. Or not. But I think I will stop resenting men who tell me they’re no good for me and start believing them. It’s always true.



Grateful for: consideration.

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Ok. So. I’m tired. Tonight, instead of sculling, I rowed. Our coach was exhausted and wanted to go home. The sweep group had spots for two of us, so I jumped in. I didn’t feel any desperate need to return to a sweep boat, which surprised me. It looks like sculling was a good choice since I don’t miss the eight as much as I thought I would.

Next topic…Kansas. I’ve put an end to the pseudo romance part of the relationship. I’ve known this was coming…for pretty much the entire time I’ve known him. It’s not quite over completely, but it may have that effect eventually. We shall see.

How did I handle it? Via email, of course. What I wanted to write was a little different than what I actually wrote. Instead of telling him how he felt, I stuck to how I felt (mostly):

[Kansas]–I’d like to talk to you, but I’m not going to call (again) since I know that makes you uncomfortable.

This is what I want to say: I like you. I think we can be friends. I would like us to be friends. I could use your help drawing the line, though. No more late night visits or calls. I don’t want to stop seeing you, but the late night calls are too disruptive. I’d like to actually be able to talk to you sometime and that is much easier when you’re not quite so drunk and I’m not quite so tired.

Please don’t think I’m cutting you off. That’s not the case. But certain things need to end so we can be friends. I hope you agree.

[Jamy]

His response:

I do understand and you are right and i agree. Are you still in that trial?

Which was about the best I could have hoped for. I wrote back and we had a lot of banal, normal back and forth. I’ve found after a break up (even a pseudo break up) a bit of small talk helps normalize things.

This also made me think about what happens when you break up with someone and try to be friends. Who makes the friendship overtures? I think it has to be the breaker-upper. It has to be the person who wanted to change the nature of the relationship.

I have a bunch more to say on this topic, but my forearms are tired and typing is mighty uncomfortable. Later gators.

Grateful for: rowing options.

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Here’s a non-exciting recap of my non-exciting, but pleasant, weekend.

Friday: I fully intended to go out in the evening. I had two happy hour options. What did I do? Sat home and watched a dvd. It was just complete and total collapse.

Saturday: a full and busy day. In the morning, I rowed. We went out in the quad again. I love, love, love that boat. I would be happy to only ever go out in the quad. I’ve been in a double a couple of times now, too, and that’s ok. Both times, I was stroke–not due to my competence in that position, but due to my lack of experience sculling. It makes no sense to put me in bow. Bow in a double (or a quad) is a big responsibility–you steer the boat and you’re always looking over your shoulder. I don’t like to do it and I’d certainly be bad at it until I get more practice sculling. The weather was perfect, the water was good and it was a great row.

After rowing, I did a quick change in the car (I had the flexcar all day) and drove to Virginia to attend a birthday party for some three-year-old twins. It was fun, but it would have been more fun to shower and nap.

Instead, after the party, I drove home, showered and then went to pick up Diego. He was helping his nephew with his “flat Stanley” school project. Basically, we had a paper cut-out in the outline of Diego’s nephew. We took it to the Mall. Diego held it up and I took pictures. Some came out well. Others…not so much. Diego will assemble a scrapbook featuring “Stanley’s” experiences in DC and mail it back to his nephew. I hope the scrapbook does not feature our conversation, which was not appropriate for grade school age kids. Ahem.

After rowing, partying with three-year-olds and tromping around the Mall, the natural next step was to go grocery shopping. I did a small shop and then home, where I collapsed again, but this time with better reason.

Kansas update: when I looked at my phone on Saturday morning I saw two missed calls from him. 2:50am and 2:56am. I’d learned my lesson and set the phone to silent. When I saw those calls, I was angrier than when I’ve actually answered his late night calls. If I’d forgotten to silence the phone, even if I hadn’t answered it, I would have been awoken at nearly three am. I had such a busy Saturday, I couldn’t afford to lose any sleep. As it turned out, I slept well. But the inconsideration really pissed me off.

I stewed a little and in the mid-morning, I called and left Kansas a message. [Note: I did not call him at 8am–I didn’t want to wake him.] I told him, more or less, that this had to stop, it wasn’t friendly and it was lucky I’d silenced my phone. Not surprisingly, I haven’t heard from him since.

This is the thing–I don’t really mind if you call me in the middle of the night. It doesn’t even have to be an emergency. If you have something to say, if you want to talk to me, it’s ok. Maybe you’ll do the same for me sometime. But there should be a REASON. It can’t just be because you’re drunk and emotionally stunted and can’t figure out how to relate to me the rest of the time. It can’t be a SUBSTITUTE for other kinds of communication. I shouldn’t have to silence my phone every friggin’ night because Kansas may be out drinking. Enough is enough.

And, because I left him that phone message and he hates conflict (shocker), I don’t expect to hear from him for a while. Though he might send an email.

Sunday will be good, though. I’ve done laundry, made an omelet and done some knitting. Soon, I’ll leave the house and enjoy this gorgeous day. I hope you all do the same.

Grateful for: lovely weather.

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I think, “Did I hear the phone ring?” I get up and check to see if the phone rang. The phone rings again. It’s Kansas. I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

I say, “I’m sleeping.”

“What?” Kansas says.

“Sleeping!”

“Oh. I’m a jackass.”

I say, “What do you want?”

“What?”

“What is it? Why are you calling me?”

He says, “I’m a jackass but I’m here. At your door.”

“You’re here?”

He says, “I’m outside.”

“Oh, Kansas. No. Please go home. Please.”

“You’re right. You’re doing the right thing.”

I go back to sleep.

In the morning, I send Kansas an email: Did you get home ok last night?

He writes back: Oh sure. Me and the Nats went into extra innings:)

Jamy: Unfortunately, so did I.

Kansas: Because of me?

Jamy: Yes.

Kansas: Well you turned my drunk ass away nicely. Sorry to have woken you. No really I mean that. Sorry.

Jamy: Was I nice? Good job sleepy J! You worry me. Apology accepted. Off to court.

All this late night activity might make sense if it were about sex. But since sex isn’t even on the table, I have no idea what inspires such bad behavior on Kansas’s part (besides the alcohol). Is this his idea of wooing? It is decidedly not awesome.

I’m tired.

Grateful for: silent mode.

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I think I like limbo. Maybe it’s easier. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it. Maybe I’m lazy.

Dad called last night. He asked me how I spent my weekend. I gave him a list of interesting activities: movie, Art-o-Matic, rowing. Dad said, “Who’d you go to the movies with?”

“[DrJ] and [C-Money]. I never see them, so it was good.”

“You didn’t see [Kansas]?”

“Um, no. I don’t see him every weekend. He’s not…well, he’s predictable. But I didn’t feel like hanging out at the bar.”

Dad said, “Ah. No. That makes sense.”

Long pause.

“But he did call me.”

“Really?”

“On Saturday night. And Monday night. But I didn’t see him.”

Dad said, “I think he’s interested.”

“Sure, of course he’s interested. He’s just not…he’s not capable of having a real relationship. So what can you do?”

“What can you do?”

Not much.

Grateful for: friends.

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I called the DC Superior Court jury office three times before I got through. When I finally reached them, this is the conversation I had:

“Hi. I’m calling about a summons I received.”

“Yes?”

“I’m currently serving on a jury for the US Courts…so…”

“You’re on a trial right now?” She asked.

“Yes.” I said.

“You’re on jury duty right now?” She asked again.

“Yes. And I’m wondering if I can be excused…”

“Well, we can excuse you for that over there. They don’t do the same for us, but we can excuse you.”

I said, “Oh, that’s great. So what do I need to do?”

“You have to get a letter from them and fax it to us. They’ll know the letter…they do it all the time. Here’s the fax number…”

“Hang on,” I said, “I’m on the move. They just let us out for lunch. This is going on for six weeks. Ok, give it to me.”

“Six weeks? Woo!” She gives me the number. “Do you have your juror number handy? Is that a problem?”

“No, no, I have it right here.” I read her the number.

She reads my name, “Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I’ll make a note in the computer.”

“Great. Thank you so much.”

Now that was easy, wasn’t it? After I had my lunch I stopped by the jury office in the US Court and the fellow there said he’d fax the letter for me. I feel much better now!

Grateful for: a valid excuse.

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More tales of jury duty…

One of the major challenges of the trial is staying awake. It’s not that the case isn’t interesting–it is. But not every moment is scintillating. Some witnesses are dull. Some lines of questioning are tedious. The attorneys have the witnesses explain things we’ve heard explained several times before. And, today, we had to watch a video deposition. I remarked to one of my fellow jurors, “That’s the most boring movie I’ve ever seen.”

As you sit there, you droop. You feel the heaviness of the eyelids and the wave of tiredness hit. How to fight it? Well, I’ve taken Pele’s suggestions to heart and I’ve started chewing things. At first, it was hard candies. The problem was that the noise annoyed those sitting near me. I can’t really suck on hard candies for long–I’m a biter. However, I’ve come up with some alternate chewing options, which include:

Hot Tamales
Cinnamon Tic-Tacs
Altoids (especially the chocolate covered ones)
Sugar-free mints–but not too many
Gum
Hard candies, in moderation

When I learned that chewing and spicy, minty flavors help keep you alert, I passed on the tip to my fellow jurors (they were talking about how to stay awake on the second or third day of the trial). Now we’re all engaged in a steady stream of unwrapping, chewing, unwrapping and chewing. The unwrapping is the noisiest part, though some of us are more subtle than others. Some also pass candy or nuts amongst themselves.

It’s good that we all take this seriously enough to try and stay awake. It’s a shame that the lawyers can’t spice up things a bit!

PS I take notes almost constantly, which also helps. I’ve filled seven pads so far, about double that of anyone else.

Grateful for: wakefulness.

PPS I just heard about the VA Tech shooting when I got home–no internet during the work day means we’re in a news-free bubble. What is wrong with people?

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