Jury Duty and the Salts

So I had jury duty today. Doing your civic duty requires that you be in downtown Dallas at 8:30 am - this alone would discourage the smart person from venturing through the concrete jungle to try to find a paring space close to the building. But Dallas County thinks ahead - they provide with you an all-day DART pass so I rode the train downtown. When I worked downtown I thoroughly enjoyed riding the train and today was no different. This was step one of mixing it up with the "salts" - a term that I picked up at home this summer. By definition, the "salts" are typically the good people who work for a living - you know a deviation from the term "salt of the earth." However, to confirm, there are many different levels of salts - you have the salts that don't work; you have the salts that barely work; you have the salts who work all the time; you have those who are embarrassed to be a salt (my personal opinion is these are the worst of the salts); and finally you have those who pretend to be a salt because they are embarrassed of what they have and try to fit in. Salts on the train are the salts who work all the time - they work all week at an 8-5 job and then wok all weekend at home. Most of the people that I know fall in this category.

When I arrive at the Court Building - they funnel you into the Central Jury Room. And the room overflowed with salts. My observation is that most of the salts here - don't want to be salts. So to compensate they come all decked out and pray feverishly that no one mistakes them for a salt. Me!?!?!? I purposely went without makeup hoping it would enhance my chances of not being selected. I had two female salts next to me who just met each other this morning and the next thing you know they are talking as if they had known each other for years.....no I take that back - one talked as if she had known the other for years. You know the type......I did this, my kids did that, my husband did this and now does that...both teachers who married engineers; one from Garland, one from Richardson, both postponed jury service earlier this summer due to scheduled vacation....blah, blah, blah,blah,blah......just my luck - salts who don't want to be salts.

Oh wait did I mention that my purse got pulled for a search. And for all of you who really know me - I carry a ton of stuff in my bag. (To catch those of you up to date - until last year I used to carry a backpack 24/7. It fit my style and I had been doing it since high school.) Now you understand my need for a large satchel. So my bag gets pulled and she passes me off to another checker chick who made me pull out my pop tarts, my tic tacs, my phone and looked through my makeup bag (of course, she was probably wondering why I didn't elect to out any on this morning) and then the second bag chick checker says, "Wow, there is a lot of stuff in there." I laughed out loud and proudly agreed with the barely working salt.

I was juror 709 and I got to spend my entire time in the central jury room hanging with the rest of the salts who didn't selected. The thing IS....I am a salt and I say it loud and proud. If you haven't hung out with the salts lately.....go to Wal-Mart, go out to dinner, ride mass transit, go to the local hog-it-all, or go to the gym. We are everywhere - it is good to hang with the salts.

Bacon, Bailout Money, and Bingo Dangle

By now, you know that most of my blogs start off with an aha moment.....this one is no different. It happened on Friday when I was talking to Erin about her hesitation to just go ahead and buy a new car. I had told her that if I still lived in Kansas, I would be driving a car with manual (standard) transmission....yes...a stick shift. I have always liked driving a manual - I always felt like I had more control of the car. But I digress - this is not my aha moment. My aha moment has to do with manual window handles....you know......what we used to have to do before we had electric windows in our cars. OK, now that we are on the same page. This is the demise of all women my age who don't like to work out......this used to be our workout. Crank the window down, crank the window up....several times a day. We worked out our upper arms. And here is it is.....I NEVER had "bingo-dangle" on my arms until I purchased a car with electric windows. Are you unfamiliar with the term "bingo-dangle"? It is the loose skin under my upper arms that keeps swinging after you raise your hand to call out bingo. In the UK, it is called having bat wings. I realized in that moment, in my office, that I too was struggling right along side of the big automakers....why.....because they put me in this situation. It is not my fault........it is GM's fault........I need a bailout. Of course the "bingo-dangle" has nothing to do with the fact that every weekend that I love having an egg, bacon, and biscuit breakfast. Oh no it is GM's fault..that's my story and I am sticking to it. So right after this blog, I am getting ready to send my letter off to see if I can get some bailout money for my "bingo-dangle." It is a crisis and I need to act quick...I think the letter should ready something like this.....Dear Mr. President...I am writing to you because there is a crisis in America.....GM is at fault for all of the "bingo -dangle" that it is it spilling out of many a the mid-western woman's shirt, and it moving quickly to the East and West coast. We need your help now - before this reaches epidemic portions.......!!! I will keep you posted if I can get some bailout money......until then I will continue to wave with my arms close to my sides.