My Civic Duty: We learned in Kindergarten

There’s a lot of sitting quietly, waiting patiently, and then responding quickly when your name is called.

One of the People in Charge just said to her group, in a most harsh and condescending tone:

“This is like kindie-garden. You need to turn on your listening ears, and know who your partner is as we travel through the hallways. We are all adults here, people.”


First of all, as a former kindergarten teacher, please don’t call it kindie-anything.

Second, that last statement sums it up. We are all adults.

Now if you’ll just direct me to my partner, my place in line, and the fingerpaints.

My Civic Duty: Black Ink Only

She complimented me on my green pen, and then she asked me to put it away.

Yes, your honor, jury commissioner.

The questionnaire asks:

What is your occupation?
Author. Just ask amazon.

What does your spouse do?
Many things I envy on a daily basis.

How do you keep up on the news:

What music do you listen to?
Sara Bareilles.

What tv do you watch?


Just kidding. I didn’t answer that way. But wouldn’t it have been great if I had?

My Civic Duty: Live blogging as a Juror

First of all, I promise to be totally legal in what I write. So feel no need to call the authorities to say I am writing some underground coup against the justice system.

No need. Just a girl who’s watching people and serving her country with wisdom and discernment.

So far, I passed the search process. But it was a close one, since I almost
Forgot to take my gloves out of my pocket. We all caught that infraction just in time.

All of this is a couple steps above the airport, since they let me wear my shoes. (I chose them wisely: camel colored heels in a distressed leather that communicates discernment and wisdom and justice.)

I stood in the standing tube that’s very similar to the airport, where I must raise my hands above my head and pretend like it’s all natural for me to be frisked by an x-ray machine.

There is a sign that reads:


I do realize that second sentence is Spanish, loosely translated (based on tenth grade Spanish 2 with Mr. Bendekgey) without to move.

I prefer to believe they have called me, as a potential juror, a Sin Mover.

That is henceforth what I will call myself.

“My name is Tricia. I am here to serve my country and thereby move sin.”

Okay, maybe not Never.

“Mommy!  I have been looking everywhere for you, and I thought you left me!”

He was on the verge of tears as he found me in the Target aisle.  I was not far, I had my eye on him, and he had been safe.  He just didn’t know those three things were true.

I got down on his level, the only way to truly make eye contact and a direct point.  “Buddy, listen to me.  I will never, ever, ever leave you.  When you go anywhere with me, you can know for sure that I will bring you back home with me.  I will never leave you.”

His brother tapped me on my shoulder.  He leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Mommy, I do have to tell you: I’m planning to go to college.”