Our Justice System at Work

I spent today sitting outside a courtroom, waiting to testify concerning the drunk driver who hit us and tried to run away. Never actually made it inside the courtroom, as the lawyers spent the morning arguing a motion to dismiss for charter violations. The guy's lawyer is claiming his client's rights to a speedy trial were violated. To which I find myself muttering "How about my right not to be hit while waiting at a stop light by a guy with an open bottle of Crown Royal sitting next to him?" But I know that we need protection and rights and all that. I just wish it hadn't wasted my entire morning. The judge will rule on May 17th and then (hopefully), we will return on the 24th.

Anyway, in-between reading the newspaper and Vanity Fair, I people-watched. No, I fashion-watched. Trust me when I tell you that I could easily have handed out half a dozen serious fashion citations today. I spied the first one dragging a large rolling briefcase as she tottered across the parking lot, so I assume she had some sort of official business in court. Perhaps she should have rethought the ruffled skirt, gold lame (that's lam-ay, not lame. I haven't a clue how to make a accent) stilettos and a fur-trimmed handbag. Then there was the girl with the capris and flip-flops. At least the flip flops had some rhinestone trimming. I mean, if you're going to court, you want to wear your very BEST flip flops!

There were the usual hip-hopsters, with doo-rags and high-crowned baseball hats atop their heads, clad in baggy jeans and the requisite hoodie. There were many dressed-for-success suited ladies with footwear that could put your eye out and, of course, the lovely and attractive solicitors in their black robes and white cravats. Invariably, the solicitors were beefy men with a tendency to look creased.

Grant and I were quite stylish in comparision. Even if the judge never did see or hear us.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I want a change. It seems like all the bloggers I stalk have got shiny new formats, while I am my usual staid and Scribe-y self. But it's not as simple as a new template or design. I want that, but I think I want a new name too. Although I think allison wonderland is right in many ways, it is also a bit...shall we say, overused? I want to be more original than that.

I am thinking a lyric or song title or something. Sondheim, maybe? But my brain is stuck. What do you, my readers, think my blog be called? What is the image I present here on the internets? Any ideas are welcome.

But I don't *wanna* wear a red hat!

I think that I have a pretty good attitude about my age. Of course, it helps that when I tell people how old I am, they generally react in disbelief. But lately, I am becoming more and more aware of my age, and the changes in my body. I got my hair cut recently. As I looked in the mirror, I had a startling realization: my neck has more than a passing resemblance to what my ex-husband less than charitably referred to as "turkey neck".

Then there's that extra bit of flesh that muffin-tops its way over the waistline of my jeans. I was always the girl with the big thighs and ass and a tiny waist. Where did that tummy roll come from?

We will not speak of the nights I awake dripping with sweat. Or that my brain has seems to be channelling its inner blonde more frequently. No, we shall not speak of these things.

Hee

Callie just called me CostelloAllison in her blog. As opposed to all the other Allisons out there. Which is hilarious because I recently decided, ala America's Next Top Model, that my "model name" should be Costello.

I am sad

About a month ago, I bought a fabulous pair of spectator peek-toe pumps at Winner's (local discount outlet). I have been itching for spring weather and newly painted toes to take them out for a spin. Today was such a day. No outdoor lunch duty (heels and grass don't mix too well), the day was warm enough for no hose and I had the perfect outfit to wear with my pretty shoes.

They hurt my feet.

A lot.

The cringe-with-every-step-by-the-end-of-the-day kind of pain.

Sigh.

Anyone want to buy a pair of gorgeous size 9 (US) shoes for cheap? Only worn once.

Spring

When I lived in San Francisco, I never really appreciated spring. My favourite season was autumn. For me, there was nothing as wonderful as the tang of the newly-chilly mornings combined with basking in the warmth late afternoon sun. Smoke from distant chimneys would begin to scent the evening air, a smell I associated with snug evenings curled up with a good book. Fall in the Bay Area always gave us a delightful last gasp of summer; we were nearly always guaranteed a warm spell in late September or October, and somehow when that weather hit, the blues seemed brighter and the golds golder and the richness of the air was like drinking a fine glass of wine.

Ironically, for most San Franciscans, and in fact, for many people living outside the City, that last gasp was one of the few glimpses of summer we actually got. If you lived in the fog belt, you only got summer if you got in your vehicle and drove north or south. You certainly didn't go to the beach, unless you loved the mist and wind and gray sands. Summer snuck in from time to time; we would have a hot spell and we would gasp for air. My friend Raymond always joked that the City's air-conditioning was on the fritz. But then, we would see the fog that had been held at bay slipping its way over the hills to the west and we would sigh in sticky relief.

Winter and spring seemed to run together in a puddle of rainstorms. Oh yes, the daffodils would bloom in February and lift our spirits and the hills would begin to green, but I don't ever remember feeling strongly about springtime. It was nice, but nothing special.

But today, even after what can only be described as a short winter, I am filled with a sense of joy and relief. The sun is shining, the trees are showing a haze of green and the tulips seem determined to grow at least 2 centimetres a day. Last night, a thunderstorm blew its torrential way through our neighbourhood and left as quickly as it came, clearing the debris of winter away. And as I drove home at nearly 6 o'clock, I realized that I still had almost an hour of sunshine left in my day and I was elated. Spring!

What a wonderful season.

Excuses, weather and books

I have the tiniest bit of an excuse. I was sick nearly all of last week and a tiny bit before. But after that, my excuses go all to hell. I have been perfectly well all week, just not very talkative (writative?). I have a post in mind about friendship, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it will not be terribly complimentary to me. I am a bit lonely these days, but I suspect that it is a little bit of karmic payback. The thinking about it seems to hurt a bit, so that post is unlikely to be forthcoming.

The weather is gorgeous today. I am looking forward so much to putting the boat in the water and getting away each weekend. I am particularly looking forward to all the reading I will be able to accomplish once we get back to the boat. That is, after all the spring clean-up work we will have to get done in order to make everything ship-shape. Then I have a whole whack o' books to enjoy, including two I just ordered from QPBC. Here's a list of the books in my pile, the last two being the ones just ordered:

The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama
The Final Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey, Patrick O'Brian
Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman
The In-Between World of Vikram Lall, M.G. Vassanji
John Adams, David McCullough
Seduced By Moonlight, Laurell K. Hamilton
The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins
Farewell Summer, Ray Bradbury

I am particularly excited aboout Farewell Summer, which is a sequel to my favourite Bradbury novel, Dandelion Wine. Or maybe I am nervous, because how could it possibly be as wonderful as its predecessor? I also have been perusing the Eyewitness Travel Guide for Ireland, in preparation for our July trip, and leafing through the pages of Our Bodies, Our Selves: Menopause. I figure the Boston Womens' Health Collective did a pretty good job of getting me through most of my twenties and thirties; now they can help me deal with the rest.

Then there's the stack of Anne McCaffrey's Pern novels, which I am re-reading in order. I am approximately halfway through the series and still enjoying it as much as the first time I read them. Old friends, you know.

Old friends. *sigh*

I just wish the people-versions were as easy to acquire and re-visit as the book-versions.

Essential Reading

Thank you to Phantom Scribber for linking to this. If you don't know why the Supreme Court's recent decision about abortion is a huge backward step for women's right to control their own medical decisions and their own body, Cecilia makes it very, very clear.

I shouldn't complain

We had a really short winter, although snowy and cold. We have had a couple of really nice weeks of warmer temperatures. So, I really shouldn't be bitching about the fact it is SNOWING outside. Well, flurries, really, but still...

Grumble.

Another gripe. Instead of reading all the new books I have in my possession, I decided to start reading Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern books. Which, of course, means I will now have to re-read every single book in the series. There are only about 20 of them, most of which I own. Ahem. But when I went looking for my hardback copy of The White Dragon, it was nowhere to be found. I must have loaned it to someone before I left SF and I have no idea who. Now I have to either get it from the library or find it used and cheap. Soon.

Grumble.

Oh yeah. I decided to go to the gym today to work out. Just as I was about to leave, I realized that I had left my workout clothes and running shoes in my car. The car my stepson had just borrowed for the weekend to take to Waterloo. I was able to scrounge up some tacky looking clothes, but I don't actually own a second pair of running shoes. I found some rubber-soled fashion sneakers to wear, but I felt like an idiot. Let's face it-- looking good at the gym is nearly as important as the damn workout!

Grumble.