Names and locations redacted to protect the innocent. I was in another city yesterday, scouting a place to hold a meetup.
Coworking space number 1: Delightfully pretentious little coffee shop with coworking space adjacent. Craft beer is also served. Seems to have a little Reformed Christian vibe going, because those Christians can drink beer with the window shades up, but unfortunately doesn’t seem to have a single room/meeting space that could hold 10 people without some of them having to sit in a hammock or something.
I walked upstairs to what I hoped was a better meeting space, only to find myself more or less awkwardly in the middle of someone else’s stand-up, in a room barely large enough to shoot a self-conscious CCM music video in.
Coworking space number 2: After walking in the front door of the building only to find myself in something that might have been a women’s clothing boutique or a used bookstore, or both, I asked where the coworking space was and was directed by the attractive young woman in the bodysuit to go to the side entrance.
My overwhelming thought on meeting her was to resist taking her hand and running, not because she was an attractive young woman in a bodysuit, but because the neighborhood is roughly that of the Bronx in the 1980s. I mean, I literally had to think hard about exiting my car when I got in the parking lot.
After finding the correct entrance, I met up with a receptionist whose overwhelming thought seemed to be to resist coming right out and asking if I voted for Trump (I didn’t). She reluctantly showed me a meeting room, which would actually work fine for our purposes, if any of our attendees survived getting mugged in the parking lot. She informed me, however, that they generally close at 6 pm.
For extra effect, a police SUV came up behind me while I was stopped at an intersection and lit off their sirens and lights because they needed to get around me. Not, as I initially assumed, to get to a shooting, but to a fender-bender a block over.
Monday I spent three hours at the Autauga County courthouse waiting to go onto a jury duty panel. Judge Sibley Reynolds told us that the jury selection process used to be “ten old men” who were selected to pick jury panels, and they placed names of potential jurors in a washing machine box.
Unfortunately, the slips of paper “were never fluffed up” or purged of old names, so they frequently had the same people in the panels.
- the number of people who were called who either had excuses, were not qualified, or who were no-shows. If I recall correctly, 200 jurors were summoned and 89 were there and qualified.
- the number of lawyers milling around the courtroom that I knew.
- the number of people in the jury pool I knew.
I guess I’ve lived in Prattville a long time. I was selected for a panel on Thursday, so on that morning I find out if I will be placed on a jury.
I’m heading back (as soon as I post this) from Auburn, where I’ve been attending the Leadership Autauga County initial session. They’ve been trying to get me to do this for about ten years, and I finally had the staffing at the office to make it happen.
Last night and today were mostly team building exercises (if you’ve ever been picked up by ten of your friends or beaten with foam sticks, you know the type), and future sessions will shape our agenda and annual project acheter kamagra oral jelly pas cher.
As a side note, do not, repeat do not read The Memories We Keep (former Songbird) or any other piece of literature concerning WWII, the Holocaust, or the French underground as bedtime literature.
So now I’m running on about 4 hours of sleep and heading to an orchestra rehearsal for tonight.
I contributed a review of The Dark Knight to Auburncomics.com – read it here. 🙂
The Auburn Knights will have their annual reunion this weekend. Montgomery Advertiser story.
I like to think that in some parallel universe I got to play with the Auburn Knights as a regular band member, but truthfully I went to AUM and anyway I was probably never that good. However, I was asked to play in the ’30s reunion band some years ago by Charlie Higgins, known to the Auburn faithful as both the irresistable force AND the immovable object behind the AKAA reunion. Starting last year, I was fortunate enough to be asked to play in the ’90s reunion band. My spot in the ’90s band is provisional, year to year, and dependent on my continuing to pay those alumni bari sax players to stay away whether or not alumni want to participate, but they know I’ll always jump at the chance.
I will be playing alto sax on a nice, sunny (i.e. incredibly hot) stage at the park later, and there will be BBQ, a movie, etc., so don’t think me a total workaholic.
But right now I’m at the office “making license plates,” as I’ve come to call mundane work that can’t be sloughed off on someone else and still has to get done (hat tip for that term – Neal Stephenson, in the excellent book Cryptonomicon), and I’m getting a strange kick out of it. I had a whole lot of coffee this morning, I’m listening to Charlie Parker on my office stereo much louder than I could during business hours, and life is kind of serene…
In a recent post, I caught myself griping about my schedule. What is particularly ugly about that is one of the things I included in that list of “things I gotta do” ended up with me getting to go to an Auburn University football game. In the skyboxes. Auburn v. New Mexico State, you say? Regardless, the first half was very exciting, more so than the final lopsided score would indicate. My friend who had tickets also had a parking pass that allowed us to park less than one city block from the door we used to get into the stadium.
Any time you can get parking that close, you should go, regardless of your interest in the event. Read more