Friday, April 24, 2009

Mary's on That Greenline Train.

Zeta Gundam (Perfect Grade model kit)

Click for Mekanda Robo/ Gundam private auction info

Sitting here in the den I can hear the playground noise from The School Near My house. I worked there the last two Mondays. This next Monday I'll be over at the Beachside campus. Work keeps trickling in, despite, or perhaps because of the fact that two long term assignments are taken right now. Which is fine by me. Barring the unforeseen, I should be on to work this summer again. No small thing to be grateful for. And we've had the second day in a row of cool, and cloud. Again, small good things add up. As always, there is stuff to sweat over.

I will feel immensely better when Mary gets home. She's got jury duty. Which has little to recommend it under the easiest of circumstances- wait.

Odd. I wrote 'wait' because I got interrupted by a phone call. It was Mary. She's on the train, and on her way home. They didn't pick her for a jury. She's free.

On the train? Yeah. On the Green line to be exact, which runs west from Norwalk almost all the way to the airport, and back. And there is a huge courthouse in Norwalk, which is about seven or eight miles from here. And there's a courthouse right here in town less than twenty minutes away. Like I said, jury duty has little to recommend it, anyway. But to rub it in just a little deeper, folks from around here, at the far eastern edge of Los Angeles County, Mary included, are being summoned to the courthouse in Compton. Yes, that Compton. Go figure why they have to bring in jurors from the far side of town. Google maps calls it at a little over fourteen miles to get from here to there. I think it's probably fourteen miles as the crow flies. On the street it's way more, and it's all nasty goddamn traffic, and little in the way of scenic beauty. And parking. In Compton.

That's why Mary took the Green Line. And she's on the train, headed back to the Norwalk station. I'll be glad when she's home. I'm going to barbeque chicken when she gets here. Later in the weekend my nephew should be up for his fourteenth birthday. Here's something of a relief- he's old enough to appreciate getting cash in a card instead of some dorky present that his uncle picked out. As you might guess, he's burned out on toy robots. anyway

I made a point today, of turning off talk radio, avoiding current events on the web, not looking at the newspaper, and generally standing here with both fingers in my ears, and my eyes closed. It does wonders for the attitude. It's hard to keep in mind that the meta events, and tectonic shifts in life, and the world as we know it are going to take place whether I pay them any mind or not. Getting distressed over it doesn't slow it down much.

And that's the sum and total of this day thus far. Some times are easy; other times need ease thrust upon them. So it is today.



julie said...

I hope you guys have a great weekend, J! Sounds like it's getting better already.

walt said...

"Getting distressed over it doesn't slow it down much."

In fact, it doesn't slow it down at all!

BTW, the high-heel shoes on the 'bot are a nice touch. Don't let Ben see those!

jwm said...

Those are NOT high heels. They are uh- uh- Gundam heel thruster extension modules. Can't fly in space without them! (Although there are girl warrior gundams that do have high heels.
Some Gundam series get really silly on the designs.) This guy makes a perfect transformation into a plane if you care to get out the instruction manual and spend an hour or so to do it. Those feet really do turn into thrusters. Unfortunately I lost the photos of this guy in Wave Rider Mode, as they call the plane, and it really isn't much fun to mess with.
The model kit has close to a thousand pieces if you count wires and screws, and decals. The attention to detail, and precision are nothing less than amazing. It is a huge project- addictive as a controlled substance once you start building.


Robin Starfish said...

How many potential jurors without felony convictions live in Compton? Rhetorical question.