strangers on a train

Things overheard and/or said to me on the bus or on TRAX:

"Hello there, little lady. May I sit here?"

"What do you think of those trans-sexuals?"

"Your hat matches your scarf. I like that."

"I like riding TRAX. It makes me feel high-class."

old people are interesting to shop with

A conversation with the old person.


Old person: I need to get some DVDs for presents for my family. Let's see what they've got here.

[Some time later . . . ]

Me: Here's one I like. Have you seen About A Boy? It does have a fair amount of swearing, but I like it.

Old person: What's it about?

Me: Well, it's about how a guy learns that we need other people, that we don't live for ourselves alone, stuff like that. It's a really sweet movie.

Old person: No, that doesn't sound like something my family would like.

[Some time later . . . ]

Old person: Oh, this looks like a good one.

Back of movie cover: Fifteen-year old Girl falls in love with Boy who mysteriously appears at her grandfather's ranch. Although her grandfather forbids their love, they don't let that bother them. When she becomes pregnant, her grandfather sends Boy away and explains that Boy is actually her half-brother. She marries Some Other Guy, who helps her raise her kid, but that marriage ends in divorce. Twelve years later, she runs into Boy again, but she's now dying of cancer. Will their love cure her cancer?

Me: Okay then.

old people give interesting career advice

Another conversation with the old person:


Old Person: So what do you do at your job? Do you run the typewriter?

Me: No, I use a computer. I do legal research and writing. On a computer.

Old Person: So you just do paperwork?

Me: Not exactly. I look up cases and other legal information on the internet, and I draft opinions and stuff like that.

Old Person: That's kind of weird. When nurses go to nursing school, they practice doing the kinds of things they'll do as nurses, but you're just doing paperwork, which isn't what lawyers do.

Me: Actually, lawyers do a lot of legal research and writing like I do.

Old Person: Well, lawyers talk a lot. Are you sure you can be a lawyer? You'll have to talk a lot more if you become one.

Me: It kind of depends on what kind of law I decide to practice. Many lawyers spend a fair amount of time sitting in their offices and doing legal research and writing, not talking.

Old Person: Well I think you should become a paralegal. Then you wouldn't need to talk.

but only in my dreams

In the past few days, I have dreamed that I have done the following things:

1) taken my little sister to see Ursula, the sea witch, so she could get a Snickers bar;

2) produced a musical about seasonal depression;

3) run through a hurricane to try to stop my fellow physician from taking a performance-enhancing drug that he thought was innocuous, but which I had discovered would cause his skin to rot and fall off; and

4) become a really good driver.

say what?

The court reporter seems to have had some difficulty taking down the lawyer's argument here:

"Many of us have been taught to love thy neighbors theist but not to love thy neighbor nor unanimous oust."

It sounds like the biblical spam I get on my school email account.

crazy men and old people

Scene: The McDonalds inside of Walmart
Characters: The Crazy Man, The Old Person, and Me

Old Person: Look at this food. This MacDonalds has sure cut back on their quality. I can't believe they sell this stuff. They don't even give you fry sauce. Isn't that weird!

Crazy Man (from behind me): [something unintelligible]

Old Person: That man is talking to himself. He's probably doped up -- you know, on drugs. You'd be surprised how many people are on drugs.

Me: Probably not. That's what I spend the majority of my time on at work.

Old Person: What's he drinking? It's green. I've never seen any kind of drink like that before.

Me: I think it's some kind of sports drink, like Gatorade.

Old Person: I don't know what it is. It's really weird, isn't it? It don't look like soda or anything.

Me: Yes, but it looks like Gatorade.

Old Person: I don't know. It's really weird.

Crazy Man: Rosemary!


Old Person: So, you're a lawyer, right?

Me: Sort of. I'm not licensed.

Old Person: Okay, so is there like some law or something saying that cleaning services can't abuse the elderly?

Me: Um, I can't give legal advice.

Old Person: They always abuse me, like that one girl -- she was a Polynesian, and they're not that clean, you know -- and she drank from my soda. Can you believe that? See, she brought my soda to me, and there was a straw already in it. They don't give it to you like that, so I know she must have been drinking out of it. And I asked her why she drank out of it, and she said, 'I never drank out of your soda.' But I know she did, and who knows what kinds of diseases she's got. Can you believe she did that? And then when I complain, Aging Services say that the cleaning people say I abuse them, but I never abused anyone in my life.

Crazy Man: Cilantro!

Me: I don't know anything about that area of law, and even if I did, I couldn't give legal advice.

Crazy Man: Vinegar!

Old Person: Well, it seems real weird that they can abuse the elderly and there's no law against it. And then they accuse me of abusing them. You wouldn't believe the kinds of people they send to clean our houses. They're all mentally ill.

Crazy Man: Parsley!


Old Person: I don't think they should let that man in here when he's on drugs. Who knows what he might do people. And he's drinking that weird stuff.

Me: I really think it's Gatorade.

[Silence for a few moments as we eat our surprisingly low-quality McDonalds food.]

Old Person: I can't believe how hard it is to find clothes here nowadays. They don't have good stuff like they used to. And it's all two-piece. Just shirts and skirts -- all two-piece. Isn't that weird?

Me: Umm . . .

Crazy Man: Rosemary!

Old Person: And everyone wears jeans nowadays, even if they're fat. I don't think fat people should wear jeans, do you?

Me: I haven't given it that much thought.

Crazy Man: Sage!

[The Old Person speaks to one of the employees.]

Old Person: The girl said that man is not on drugs -- he's just schizophrenic or something. I don't think they should let him in here if he's crazy. Of course, he seems pretty harmless. He just seems to think he's making some kind of a stew. But that still means he's crazy, and who knows what delusions he'll start to have next.

Crazy Man: Rotten milk!!!

this could be interesting

The judge told me that he wants me to drive him to the airport and then drive his car back the office tomorrow. This could be interesting. It would be bad if I ran into something with my boss's car. I was definitely not hired for this job based on my driving skills.

old people are not politically correct

More conversations with the same old person:

Old person (pointing to some men taking a lunch break on the lawn near their work equipment): Look at those Mexicans sitting around instead of raking leaves. Don't that beat all? Of course, they like doing it.

Me: ????

Old person: Blah, blah, blah . . . Mexicans . . . blah blah blah. So, are you ever going to get married?

Me: Um, well, I would have to be dating someone first.

Old person: I guess that's true. But don't wait too long to start a family, or you'll have retarded kids.

I guess I know what I'll be getting as a wedding present -- this very special book.

another dream

On Sunday night, I had a rather interesting dream. I learned in my dream that I've only got a year left to live. I'd more likely be concerned that the dream was prophetic if I had dreamed that I was going to die of something credible, like cancer or a car accident or polar bears, but I somehow can't seem to muster up much concern about dying of tooth decay.


Dream dentist: If you'd only come in earlier, we could have done something to help you. But it's too late now. The decay is irreversible, and you'll be dead within the year.

Dream me: I didn't even know that people could die of tooth decay.

Dream dentist: Well, you're about to find out that they can. And, as you'll discover, it's a rather ignominious way to die.


Let that be a lesson to you all. Go to the dentist, or else.

how rude!

My roommate told me that her former roommate was coming over to visit her tonight. Sure enough, about 30 minutes ago I heard the doorbell ring and my roommate went to get the door. Her friend came in, sat down on the couch, and continued talking on her cell phone for the next 25 minutes, completely ignoring my roommate. I thought this was extremely rude. Either hang up the phone and continue that conversation later, or else sit outside (or maybe in your car, so you don't freeze to death) until you've finished talking. Is that too much to ask?

happy day

The judge told us that chambers would officially close at noon today and stay closed for the rest of the week. Technically, only tomorrow is a federal holiday, but our judge is nice enough to let us have more time off. (One of the other judges in the building is making his clerks work Friday. Yet another reason why my judge is so cool.)

When I woke up this morning, I thought, "I'm so glad it's a minimum day today." I hadn't thought about it in those terms before, but it really is very similar to having a minimum day in high school. I'm all in favor of it. Sure, it might be nice to have the whole day off instead, but a half day is long enough that you feel like you've been productive, while you still get that great holiday feeling of having guilt-free time off.

That said, it's time for me to leave the office. And I'm determined not to worry about my cases over the break. They'll still be waiting for me when I get back.

not for the weak of stomach

I detest cats. And they can tell. No matter how standoffish a cat generally is with new people, it always tries to slink around my feet and jump onto my lap and try to get me to pet it. Sometimes naive pet owners believe that this is the cat's way of being friendly. I know better. The cats can sense my dislike, and this is their way of getting back at me. They're clever little fiends.

Recently, however, they decided to step up their level of aggression against me. Their previous sort of obnoxiousess wasn't bothering me enough, I guess. And so they've changed tactics. Every couple days or so, they leave a dead mouse or dead bird in the hallway outside of my apartment door. And, to really make sure that they really get their message across, they like to disembowel the dead animals on my doorstep. There's nothing like blood and guts on your welcome mat to let you know that you're not welcome.

The neighbors and maintenance men have apparently lived under the cats' reign of terror for too long to defy them. No one will touch the cats' friendly little messages, although the cats sometimes move the dead animals a few feet, just to let us know that they're still out there.

When I was younger, I really liked the song "There are no cats in America." I only wish that it were true.

old people are funny

Two recent conversations:

Old person: So, I heard you were interested in the law. Are you going to become a paralegal?

Me: No. I've graduated from law school already.

Old person: So you used to be a paralegal?

Me: No, you don't need to be a paralegal to go to law school.

Old person: But wouldn't you like to be a paralegal? It will be good experience for you if you want to become a lawyer some day.

Me: I already went to law school. I don't need to work as a paralegal to become a lawyer.

Old person: That's too bad. Being a paralegal is a really good job.


A week later . . . .

Old person: Tell me what you do at your job.

Me: Well, I work for a judge, so I help him do the sorts of things that judges do.

Old person: So, you're like a secretary?

Me: No, I do legal work.

Old person: Like a paralegal, then.

Me: I'm not a paralegal. I went to law school.

[Pause in conversation]

Old person: Why did you move here? Aren't there jobs in California?

Me: Well, I wanted this particular type of job, and this is where I got the job offer.

Old person: Maybe if you went to school to become a paralegal you could find more work.

amazing logic

Dave and I have been really impressed by some of the very logical arguments we've read recently. These aren't direct quotations, but this is the gist of the arguments made:

1. At trial, the witness testified -- under oath -- that he was an untrustworthy person. Therefore, we can't believe anything he said at trial.

2. [Background -- you only have Fourth Amendment protection against warrantless searches and seizures if you have a reasonable expectation of privacy in the place searched. So, the question of reasonable expectation of privacy is frequently litigated.] The defendant clearly had a reasonable expectation of privacy here. This is obvious from the fact that he kept his drugs there. If he didn't expect that it would be private, he obviously wouldn't have left incriminating evidence there where police could get access to it without a warrant. He's not an idiot.

3. [In this case, police knocked and announced several minutes before someone answered the door, and they heard people running around inside trying to destroy and hide evidence during that time.] There's no evidence that the firearm was used in furtherance of drug trafficking. The drugs were inside the house, while police found the gun in the bushes outside the window. The government didn't present any evidence that the gun was stored anywhere else, so obviously it was stored outside the window. And since it was stored outside his window, obviously he wasn't using it during the drug crimes that took place inside his house.

a dream

Yesterday I was reading a brief in which the lawyer said that crack is generally sold in open-air markets. This way of putting it struck me as rather funny. Then last night I dreamed a dream. I was standing in the middle of a street lined with booths, and there were street vendors loudly hawking their wares: "Eight balls! Eight balls of crack for $180!" "Freshly cooked crack! Get your freshly cooked crack here!" "Marijuana bricks! We've got marijuana bricks!" I looked around and said to myself, "Boy, I guess I shouldn't have laughed at that phrase. Here I am, right in the middle of an open-air drug market, and there's nothing weird about it."

Now that phrase makes me laugh even more.

education

I was told that this job would be very educational, and that's turned out to be very true. For instance, do you know what the wholesale price of crack cocaine is? Do you know the retail price? Do you know what the difference between crack and cocaine powder is? Do you know what drug dealers mean by "key," "bird," or "cookie"? Did you know that real people actually use the term "baby mamma" (as in "he spent a lot of time talking on the phone to his baby mammas and females")? I've learned all of that, and even more.

I've also learned some things not to do, if I ever decide to embark on a life of crime. For instance, don't keep a detailed journal describing everything you do to further your mail fraud scheme. And if you do keep such a journal, don't throw it away in the trash can when you discover that you're under investigation. Shredders were invented for a reason. Don't talk to other people in jail about all the illegal things you did. Fellow inmates are not your friends, and they will be quite happy to testify against you in exchange for leniency in their own cases.

Dave hates the criminal cases, but I think they're really quite interesting. And educational as well.

Very good, sir.

Although most of the books I've read recently have been remarkably mediocre, I read a few books that were quite good. The best was The Mating Season, a book by P.G. Wodehouse. I'd been feeling a little gloomy, to match the weather, but this book lifted me right out of my slump. (Unfortunately, it also distracted me from my surroundings enough that I didn't pay attention to the uneven pavement while boarding the bus. And I turned my ankle and fell onto the stairs of the bus, resulting in some rather nasty cuts and bruises on both legs. But what care I for bruises when there is such a book.) For those who've watched the series, this book is the one where Bertie goes up to Deverill Hall as Gussie and Gussie ends up impersonating Bertie, and hilarity ensues.

Wodehouse books are full of wise observations on life. For instance, take this quote from Mike at Wrkykyn (a book which, incidentally, is nearly incomprehensible to anyone who isn't familiar with cricket):

Man's inability to get out of bed in the morning is a curious thing. One may reason with oneself clearly and forcibly without the slightest effect. One know that delay means inconvenience. Perhaps it may spoil one's whole day. And one also knows that a single resolute heave will do the trick. But logic is of no use. One simply lies there.

Or this:

There are situations in life which are beyond one. The sensible man realizes this, and slides out of such situations, admitting himself beaten. Others try to grapple with them, but it never does any good. When affairs get into a real tangle, it is best to sit still and let them straighten themselves out. Or, if one does not do that, simply to think no more about them. This is Philosophy. The true philosopher is the man who says "All right," and goes to sleep in his arm-chair.

And finally, there's this astute observation from The Mating Season:

Except for knowing that when you've heard one, you've heard them all, I'm not really an authority on violin solos, so cannot state definitely whether La Pulbrook's was or was not a credit to the accomplices who had taught her the use of the instrument. It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos, of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.

mountains of books! cascades of books!

On Columbus Day I had the day off, so I ventured over to the city library for the first time since arriving here. I'd held off from going there as long as I could, knowing what would surely happen the minute I walked inside the doors. And it did. Between that Monday and the next Monday, I read 11 books.

I remember arguing with my one of my roommates, several years ago, about "the happiest place on earth." She insisted that this was Disneyland, but I said that you couldn't believe everything Disney told you. In my opinion, the happiest place on earth is the library. I love the library.

The Salt Lake City library is wicked awesome. Dave had told me that it was, and I now heartily concur with him. I never met a library I didn't like, but this one is particularly impressive. If you're ever in Salt Lake, you should pay it a visit.

Quote of the day

From a fireside Elder Ballard gave yesterday:

"Some of us in the Quorum of the Twelve are getting pretty old, but we're still quite cool."

between the devil and the deep blue sea

Tonight after institute I was walking home from the TRAX station. As I crossed the street, I saw a scruffy, homeless-looking man walking very slowly in front of me. As a precautionary measure, I decided that I would try to put some distance between us as quickly as possible. As I was just about to pass him, however, an enormous dog -- probably a direct descendant of the hound of the Baskervilles -- came bounding out of the bushes nearby and started running in our direction. I quickly closed the remaining gap between the homeless man and myself, and then stayed right at his elbow until I reached my driveway. Luckily, the dog by that point had run off a little further away, but I still was afraid to leave the side of the homeless guy.

I decided that this was a very interesting test on which of my fears would predominate. Apparently I am much more afraid of dogs than I am of homeless men.