Sister and I planned our vacation last week. We were going to meet in Seattle on Labor Day Weekend, and spend the week after in Seattle & Vancouver...maybe even Portland. My schedule was clear; her schedule was clear. It was perfect. We had an hour-long conversation discussing some details and the absolute delight that our vacation would surely be. She had to book her flights right away to take advantage of some free miles she had from a past-vacation-gone-terribly-wrong. Today, I printed off her flight details and went online to book my arrival & departure times as close to hers as possible. Here's what I found on her itinerary:
May 23 - May 30.
That's Memorial Day, Sister. That's. Memorial. Day.
During an hour-long conversation of excited chatter, we apparently never realized that one of us was talking about a spring vacation 2 months away and the other was talking about a fall vacation 5 months away. I don't know how this is possible, but it's possible. While Sister is attending the Sasquatch Music Festival ALONE, I will be in trial at the county courthouse. This is, without question, a hitch in the get-along
We're working on it.
3.31.2008
3.24.2008
It was always burning, since the world's been turning.
Dear Torch,
It's been really great getting to know you over the past year. I've enjoyed reading about you, in police reports and otherwise. I've listened with an open mind when you've talked about the night of the fire in your apartment building. It's a heart-wrenching story. Really, it is.
You've recalled the horror of waking up in the middle of the night to a smoke alarm going off, of realizing that there was no safe exit through the door, and of leaping from your 3rd floor apartment to the ground below. I've seen your medical records, so I know that you're not lying when you recount the physical pain you've experienced since that jump. I do hope those broken bones are healing nicely.
But it's your legal complaints that have me stumped, Torch. You see -- you've filed lawsuits against your landlord, against the hospital, against the jail, and against several other government agencies. You've done this, it would seem, because you suffered some injuries that night. Here's why that confuses me:
You started that fire, Torch. You do it all the time. You set buildings on fire. It's what you do.
That night, you started a sizable fire in your apartment complex. So it's puzzling to me that, 30 minutes after you held a match to gasoline-soaked rags in a hallway trash can, you were "surprised" by the smoke alarm. It seems to me that you maybe could have anticipated that alarm going off. And perhaps if you hadn't been so "surprised" by the alarm, the smoke, and the flaming building, you wouldn't have had to jump out the window.
I'm just saying.
Again, Torch...it's not that I haven't enjoyed your company over the past year. As far as arsonists go, you're very personable. I've become familiar with the twinkle in your eye when an attorney stops a deposition because he need to step outside for a smoke. You only know me as "that girl" who is a lawyer for "one of those places you sued." But all the same, I feel like we've come a long way together. I just want you to be ready for the hard questions come trial. I hope you won't hold it against me. I'd like to remain friends and such.
All Best,
Unfortunate Lawyer
It's been really great getting to know you over the past year. I've enjoyed reading about you, in police reports and otherwise. I've listened with an open mind when you've talked about the night of the fire in your apartment building. It's a heart-wrenching story. Really, it is.
You've recalled the horror of waking up in the middle of the night to a smoke alarm going off, of realizing that there was no safe exit through the door, and of leaping from your 3rd floor apartment to the ground below. I've seen your medical records, so I know that you're not lying when you recount the physical pain you've experienced since that jump. I do hope those broken bones are healing nicely.
But it's your legal complaints that have me stumped, Torch. You see -- you've filed lawsuits against your landlord, against the hospital, against the jail, and against several other government agencies. You've done this, it would seem, because you suffered some injuries that night. Here's why that confuses me:
You started that fire, Torch. You do it all the time. You set buildings on fire. It's what you do.
That night, you started a sizable fire in your apartment complex. So it's puzzling to me that, 30 minutes after you held a match to gasoline-soaked rags in a hallway trash can, you were "surprised" by the smoke alarm. It seems to me that you maybe could have anticipated that alarm going off. And perhaps if you hadn't been so "surprised" by the alarm, the smoke, and the flaming building, you wouldn't have had to jump out the window.
I'm just saying.
Again, Torch...it's not that I haven't enjoyed your company over the past year. As far as arsonists go, you're very personable. I've become familiar with the twinkle in your eye when an attorney stops a deposition because he need to step outside for a smoke. You only know me as "that girl" who is a lawyer for "one of those places you sued." But all the same, I feel like we've come a long way together. I just want you to be ready for the hard questions come trial. I hope you won't hold it against me. I'd like to remain friends and such.
All Best,
Unfortunate Lawyer
3.19.2008
I'm gonna lose. And I'm gonna lose huge.
I have a trial coming up in a couple of weeks. (Not the one that I don't understand. A different one.)
I talked to the judge today because I filed a Motion to Transport. My client currently "resides" at a state penitentiary, so the judge needs to order that the sheriff transport him back to the courthouse to be present for his trial.
The judge reviewed my motion and said: "I don't think I'm going to have him brought all the way back here just for his postconviction relief trial. It doesn't really seem worth it. He can just testify by phone."
Something tells me I'm not going to win this one.
I talked to the judge today because I filed a Motion to Transport. My client currently "resides" at a state penitentiary, so the judge needs to order that the sheriff transport him back to the courthouse to be present for his trial.
The judge reviewed my motion and said: "I don't think I'm going to have him brought all the way back here just for his postconviction relief trial. It doesn't really seem worth it. He can just testify by phone."
Something tells me I'm not going to win this one.
Counting Crazy Sheep
Have you ever tried counting sheep to make yourself go to sleep? It really works. I usually get to about thirty and I am totally out. I count the sheep as they jump over a fence. But when I decide to count sheep, I always know that I'm in for a nice surprise because the sheep always surprise me. The first sheep is usually wearing a giant clown wig, the second sheep does a double back flip over the fence, the third sheep might have some devil horns, and the fourth sheep just runs right into the fence, instead of jumping over it, etc.
They are some crazy sheep. Crazy sheep indeed.
They are some crazy sheep. Crazy sheep indeed.
3.18.2008
Is there a Plan B?
I have a trial next Thursday that I don't understand.
Seriously. This isn't one of those things like when you were in high school and you were all OMG I'm totally not ready for this English test, when you actually studied for 6 hours and you secretly knew you're going to ace it.
Nope. This is not like that. I can't even explain what this case is, except that it's a civil case challenging a conviction in a criminal case. Whatever.
Next Thursday, the judge is going to ask me to make an opening statement, and I'm just going to stand there with my mouth open. Know why? I don't understand my case. I'm looking at a list of potential witnesses right now, deciding who I should subpoena. But next Thursday, I will put my witnesses on the stand and have no idea what questions to ask them. Know why? Don't understand the case.
My saving grace was going to be one man: an attorney who represented my client during his criminal case. I planned to call him, knowing that he would be able to explain to me what was happening, knowing that he would testify in court as to why my client should get a new trial, and knowing that...finally...someone would tell me what this case is about. Fifteen minutes ago, I made the call.
Turns out he died last year.
UPDATE: Mobilizing Plan B. Because everyone -- except this guy -- deserves a lawyer who understands their case.
Seriously. This isn't one of those things like when you were in high school and you were all OMG I'm totally not ready for this English test, when you actually studied for 6 hours and you secretly knew you're going to ace it.
Nope. This is not like that. I can't even explain what this case is, except that it's a civil case challenging a conviction in a criminal case. Whatever.
Next Thursday, the judge is going to ask me to make an opening statement, and I'm just going to stand there with my mouth open. Know why? I don't understand my case. I'm looking at a list of potential witnesses right now, deciding who I should subpoena. But next Thursday, I will put my witnesses on the stand and have no idea what questions to ask them. Know why? Don't understand the case.
My saving grace was going to be one man: an attorney who represented my client during his criminal case. I planned to call him, knowing that he would be able to explain to me what was happening, knowing that he would testify in court as to why my client should get a new trial, and knowing that...finally...someone would tell me what this case is about. Fifteen minutes ago, I made the call.
Turns out he died last year.
UPDATE: Mobilizing Plan B. Because everyone -- except this guy -- deserves a lawyer who understands their case.
3.17.2008
GuestBlogger: Sister
Dear Unfortunate Lawyer (also known as "The Good Sister"):
When a photo appeared in our hometown newspaper of your childhood boyfriend (the one you never actually spoke to), for an award he won during your senior year of high school, I immediately cut it out and mailed it to you. I mailed it with a note written in the sloppy handwriting of a boy that said "I never forgot what we did that day at recess. I still think about you." I signed his name, sealed the envelope, and mailed it from the post office in the town where he lived.
But really...I thought you would know it was me. I thought you would know it was a joke and I thought we would laugh together about how funny I was. And when you brought it up several months later, sitting in the kitchen of our parents' house when I was home from college at Christmas, I thought you were just complementing me on how funny my joke was.
It was when you got the the part of the story where you wrote him back, saying that you didn't actually remember what you did "that day at recess" but you'd love to get together now, that I wasn't quite sure how to react. Were you fucking with me? Were you playing a joke of your own? I soon realized that, sadly, you were not. I was the only joker in the room that night.
You were so confused (and rightfully so) as to why this boy would take the time to write you and even send a photo of himself and then not respond to your friendly reply. I was curled in a ball on the cold hard floor, in fits of uncontrollable laughter, imagining how confused this boy must have been when he received your letter. I was past the point of being able to speak, knowing that I had caused both of you to try your hardest to remember what happened "that day at recess."
What could I do? The letter had been sent and received. I hoped the two of you wouldn't run into each other anytime soon and I made a mental note to tell you the true origins of the letter in about 10 years, when it would seen equally funny to both of us. That was in 1996. And so now, 12 years later, here is my confession: it was me!!! I know what you and your "boyfriend" did that fateful day at recess, and what you did was nothing. whoops. :)
I apologize for any confusion or embarrassment suffered as a result of my action. You weren't planning on getting back together with him anyway, right?!
Love,
Sister (the bad one)
When a photo appeared in our hometown newspaper of your childhood boyfriend (the one you never actually spoke to), for an award he won during your senior year of high school, I immediately cut it out and mailed it to you. I mailed it with a note written in the sloppy handwriting of a boy that said "I never forgot what we did that day at recess. I still think about you." I signed his name, sealed the envelope, and mailed it from the post office in the town where he lived.
But really...I thought you would know it was me. I thought you would know it was a joke and I thought we would laugh together about how funny I was. And when you brought it up several months later, sitting in the kitchen of our parents' house when I was home from college at Christmas, I thought you were just complementing me on how funny my joke was.
It was when you got the the part of the story where you wrote him back, saying that you didn't actually remember what you did "that day at recess" but you'd love to get together now, that I wasn't quite sure how to react. Were you fucking with me? Were you playing a joke of your own? I soon realized that, sadly, you were not. I was the only joker in the room that night.
You were so confused (and rightfully so) as to why this boy would take the time to write you and even send a photo of himself and then not respond to your friendly reply. I was curled in a ball on the cold hard floor, in fits of uncontrollable laughter, imagining how confused this boy must have been when he received your letter. I was past the point of being able to speak, knowing that I had caused both of you to try your hardest to remember what happened "that day at recess."
What could I do? The letter had been sent and received. I hoped the two of you wouldn't run into each other anytime soon and I made a mental note to tell you the true origins of the letter in about 10 years, when it would seen equally funny to both of us. That was in 1996. And so now, 12 years later, here is my confession: it was me!!! I know what you and your "boyfriend" did that fateful day at recess, and what you did was nothing. whoops. :)
I apologize for any confusion or embarrassment suffered as a result of my action. You weren't planning on getting back together with him anyway, right?!
Love,
Sister (the bad one)
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