My friends east-coast are all hunkering down, preparing for some sort of frozen water apocalypse. When I lived back there I admit, I thought it was just part of how things went. You lived by the weather. I had forgotten what it was like to live here.

So while my friends prepare to spend a weekend watching snow, shoveling snow, driving in snow, and generally getting snowed – I shall enjoy my 70 degree weather. My love of this weather has come with a new found love of plants and growing them. Last summer, as some of you may recall, we bought a few plants, pots, soil etc. We agreed not to spend more than $100 or $200, I can’t remember, just in case we didn’t have the personal discipline to take care of these plants. I didn’t want to have a bunch of dead plants on the patio, etc. So we decided to start with a few annual flowers, a lantana or two, etc. My favorite though, was the hibiscus I decided to grow. I’ve been nurturing this hibiscus, and I’m hoping this spring he’ll flower up nicely. This winter he got cold, real cold, and I think he wasn’t happy about it. But he’s still growing. Here’s what he looked like when we bought him:

Baby Hybiscus

Before

He’s turned a lot of his energy in to growing, and not flowering. I don’t mind this -too- much, because I am a fan of his broad leaves. But here is what he looks like now, about 7 months later:

After

After

 

So he’s doing pretty good. I am trying to keep him trimmed on the sides so he’ll continue to grow up, and not out. From what I’ve read and what my dad has told me, they’ll naturally try and grow out in to a bush, but that you can prune them in to more vertical shape. I am hoping that’ll cut down on his energy spent growing and he’ll flower this spring too. We’ll see. We’ve got some other plants too:

Other Plants!

Other Plants!

 And yes, I realize most people don’t care about my plants – but it’s my blog and I’ll post whatever eclectic crap I feel like.

So on to other things, less related to horticulture. Yesterday I got called in for jury duty, which you know, at first sounds like “BLEH” but, when I got down there I realized it’s an important part, and if I was ever on trial for something I’d want a jury, so I should do my part. (Especially if I was innocent!) It was downtown at the Arizona Superior Court, which is an old school government building, all brown and marble inside. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect a court to look like. I got picked in the first group and taken in to the courtroom. Apparently two homeless guys got in to a shanking war, and this guy was accused of shanking the other one in the throat. (though the other guy lived. So this was aggravated assault.) I was feeling pretty down about the whole thing, about having to spend a whole day in this building being bored until the Bailiff got a call on his cellphone and then, well then I knew it was going to be a good day.

The bailiff’s cellphone ringer was the theme from The People’s Court.

I laughed and he grinned and well, I knew it was going to be a good day.

So as they file us all in to the court room, they assign us numbers. I was juror 113, because apparently they had gone through the first 100 numbers the day before. The first thing I noticed was that the Public Defender (I am going to assume public defender. Maybe the homeless guy couldn’t afford a house, but he could afford a top notch legal team, who knows) was about 5 foot 6 inches or so. And a dude. So he’s a smarmy lawyer, AND he’s short. Shit, you better just dismiss me right away. But of course I can’t say that, so I sit there quietly as they go through the usual questions. “Have you or anyone close to you served as law enforcement?” I listen as people regale the court of tales of how their uncle’s sister-in-law is a cop in Cleveland or something, with that glimmer of hope in their voice that maybe, just maybe this will get them out of jury duty. But I think having gone through 100 jurors the day before, the judge wasn’t having any of it. She’d ask them if they felt this would prevent them from being fair and impartial, and knowing they’d sound like an idiot if they said yes, they’d all back down and say no, they could still serve.

Next the judge moves on to,”Have you, or anyone close to you been accused, arrested, or convicted of a crime?” Holy shit, little did I know I was apparently surrounded by murderers, thieves, abusers, child rapers, mother rapers, father stabbers, and every other kind of evil, mean, no good kind of scoundrel you could imagine. Half the damn jury box went on to tell the court of their particular run in with the law, if it be smacking their wife around, smokin a bowl, or just getting “harrassed by the man”. As I sat there, I began to reflect on my relatively tame life wondering if perhaps I should knock over a liquor store after this, just to fit in. The judge dismissed a few of these people, including the child molester (who wasn’t sure if he’d had his rights restored to him by the state. How the hell do you not know that? I sometimes forget what flavor of toothpaste I like or I forget to put gas in my car but I usually am pretty clear on if I have the rights and freedoms associated with the United States Constitution or not.) and some guy who “wasn’t really sure what he did” but he served 10 years in prison for it.

It’s very possible the next part did not happen exactly the way I am about to tell it, but this is how I choose to remember it. Thank you Mr. Guthrie.

The next question was the one I figured was going to get me DQ’ed the quickest. ”Have you or someone close to you ever been the victim of a crime?” Again, half the jury box’s hands shoot up and we’re told sordid tales of apartment break-in’s, mail theft, purse snatching, and even a gun-point robbery. Finally she gets to me, my hand raised. “What crime was committed against you?” She asked. “Well ma’am, I had my car stolen.” “When was this?” “Last week.” I said, there was a small laugh from someone near the bailiff, possibly the bailiff himself. “Could you tell us the circumstances around the incident?” And I proceeded to tell her about the broken glass, the trash I was taking out, then noticing the car has been stolen. She stops me right there, and she says, “Have they recovered your vehicle?” At this point I proceeded to tell her about the early morning phone call from Phoenix PD, the flat tire, the ramen noodles on my gas tank, the lack of gas in the car, the disconnected accelerator and idling all the way home. I even told her the part about the 5 year old girl, skipping down the road faster than I was driving, just to torment me and I told the whole thing in 5 part harmony while playin on my guitar. She stopped me there and said, “Kid, do you think you can serve as an impartial and fair juror?”  Well, to that I said, “Are you asking -me- if I can be fair and impartial? You got me sitting here in this jury box, sittin here with all sorts of mother rapers, father stabbers, hell even a few father rapers… and you want to know if I can be fair?” The Judge nodded her head and said yes, she wanted to know. “No, I’m still pretty pissed. They jacked my stereo.” Well at that point, the judge dismissed me and that ended my stint as a purveyor of fine, blind American justice.

While the story might not reflect the actual events, the outcome was the same. Once they knew I had recently been the victim of a crime, they no wanted me no more. Guess they figured I’d be in the mood for some hangin’. Which to be fair, I am.

Well! Aside from that, life’s just chugging along. Sending our resumes, looking for another job. Unemployment dropped this month, so maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Enjoy your weekends my friends, I’ll see you on the flip side.

-J