Orange Things in Everyday Ramblings

Quince. We have had a few bright clear and cold days lately. Today is not one of them. Rain is on its way back in and it is gloomy and warmer. We need the rain. The red rhododendrons outside my bedroom window still show burn marks from the record setting heat last June.

Friday, midday I got a call from the courthouse saying that my services as a juror were no longer needed. We have a cut off at age 70 for required service and I may just squeak by without having to serve again.

I am so relieved. The whole thing was very intense. Not only did I talk to the judge privately about my current circumstances, but I had to fill out a 22-page questionnaire that was very thorough.

The case involves a murder by a wife of her husband at work with a gun she assembled from a kit, with the perceived motive being a large life insurance policy. She was apparently a romance writer. Very high profile.

We have this very modern new courthouse that has huge barricades around it because of the civil unrest over the last year. They only allow two people at a time in the elevators, and you must have a specific reason to go to a particular floor.

There is a huge brightly colored painting in the center of the atrium that I found mildly disturbing. It is just shapes, not representative, but the vibe is vaguely angry. I am not sure that is such a good idea in this glass and light filled building.

The view is nice though.

And the jury room is also nice and had big air filters and coherent social distancing. I am glad for that for young folks doing their service for the first time.

Anyway, I am done, I have been released, I am free to make plans and live my life.

Thursday, I had my stress test. They were friendly. Mine was significantly more elaborate than Mrs. Sherlock’s. The ultrasound showed my heart is getting enough oxygen during stress, so the doctors are happy about that. I am seeing a doctor for a follow-up visit this Thursday. It was not exactly ideal to have to work that hard to get one’s heart rate up with an N95 mask on, but life is what it is these days.

Besides being deeply disturbing for us relatively well-balanced folks, the news of Russia invading Ukraine is really rattling folks that are unstable mentally. I had an encounter with a man with Tourette’s Syndrome on Thursday that was just heartbreaking. He warned me at a bus stop that he was about to have an outburst. To know that you are not going to be able to control your outbursts, ugh…

The hardcore tattooed guy drinking fortified wine at 11 AM barely able to control his annoyance, seriously didn’t help matters. There was menace in the air.

On Friday I took the train back down to visit Kes and Most Honorable. The three blocks surrounding the train station are filled with encampments for those without housing. I felt okay going through on a bright mid-morning, but Mrs. Sherlock wanted to pick me up. She had not been down there at night before.

I texted her from the train when we were in the city across the river and then the train stopped. For some inexplicable reason there was a car across the tracks. Just there. We were going slow enough, and the operators had warning, so we didn’t hit it. It took about 25 minutes for them to get the car off the tracks.

And then we had to wait for the inspectors. Mrs. Sherlock went home and waited and then came back and got me when we finally got in.

I have to say the passengers in my car were wonderful with the delay. No one got mad, everyone was polite. There was discreet groaning at various announcements, and everyone laughed when they handed out snack bags of Cheetos.

It was lovely in Salem. Most Honorable and I went for a modest afternoon walk while Kes rested, and I cleaned the bathtub and Most Honorable and I did a crack job of vacuuming and cleaning the floors in the main rooms. We moved furniture, the whole thing.

We visited and it was lovely to hang with them. Kes has been working on this adorable knitted stuffed bear pattern that is all one piece and we picked out eyes for her.

I am ready, oh so ready, as we turn into March to shift my focus to the garden.

Not for a minute, though, am I not aware of the suffering of the Ukrainian people.

Last updated February 27, 2022