If I Did It

so someone foolishly invited me to a facebook group demanding justice for caylee anthony and requesting my signature on a virtual petition (directed at who, i am not entirely certain) so that casey anthony cannot benefit financially from "her crimes." uh, i know almost nothing about casey anthony, except that my mother-in-law watched all 33 days of the trial on court tv and up until the day the verdict was announced, carol could "just see it in her eyes" that she was guilty. oh, and casey was acquitted of all but the most lame of the pending charges after barely a day of deliberation. i anticipate she was sentenced to time served since i did see the report in between sports highlights at vinny's that she was released from jail yesterday.

frankly, the media circus is a good reminder that you can be guilty and not go to jail and that it is the prosecutor's job to prove every single element of his case without the accused saying one single word. you can also be innocent and spend the rest of your life in jail, or at least have it ruined by false accusations. i would be a defendant's dream juror because frankly, i am surprised anyone is ever found guilty of any crime. the only way i would ever vote guilty is if the defendant confessed. and not an out-of-court confession induced by police presence or lack of sleep, coffee and potty breaks either. beyond a reasonable doubt is a tough standard to beat. unless you have a third eye like my mother-in-law. 99% sure just doesn't seem sure enough.

at any rate, i couldn't resist leaving my comments on the petition -- even if it meant that i was somehow implicitly signing it -- to remind the crazies that their fascination with the whole event, highlighted by an insistence on watching/following more than a month of a criminal trial ending on a sunday and the 4th of july holiday, plus nancy grace's daily analysis, is precisely why the possibility even exists that casey anthony will make money. if oprah thought no one was going to watch, she wouldn't pay casey for an appearance. oh and also to tell the crazies that they ought to go to jail for three years and see how that goes for them.

these people, with their "outrage" and "knowledge" of casey's guilt are the same people who, although they might not go right out and buy the OJ simpson book, are going to secretly check it out of the library and read it under the covers at night when they think no one is looking. because what if she did it? this is the consequence of tampering with evidence and going to trial on the theory that sluts are capable of murder. sorry america, i didn't make the rules. i am confident, however, that everything comes back around. if casey's really so bad, maybe she'll be caught in a few years taking a rare brand of duct tape at gunpoint.

i've gotten notifications of about 47 comments left on this post. i haven't read any of them, but i'm confident i swayed the hearts and minds of the crazies and they are simply writing to thank me for helping them see the light and start living their own actual lives. god bless the internet and its unique ability to start a firestorm.

back on the homefront: i spent my friday evening at "stamp camp" making homemade greeting cards. just picture a house full of grown adults with glue sticks and glitter. surprisingly, there is quite a lot of paraphernalia associated with stamp camp -- powders and hot air guns and punches and stencils and dies. although i spent a lot of time alternately complaining about how hard it was and devising shortcuts to avoid the most tedious tasks, and i was exhausted by the frantic pace of cutting and gluing and powdering, etc., i did it! and i had a good time and hope i get invited back. and also that i have the foresight to bring a bottle of wine. if anyone receives a homemade card from me in the near future, try not to pay attention to the blood, sweat and tears oozing therefrom. although, i am confident that with my new mommy it-can-wait attitude, no one will be getting any sort of greeting card from me for many, many years.

Power Up!

a little mushroom is going to drop out of the ceiling any minute and when i jump on it, i'm going to grow to 2x my normal size plus a mustache. all i need now is to stumble across a pretty desert orange flower so i can start spitting fireballs at all the obstacles in my path...

i think i experienced a time warp this morning. i have a big custody hearing at 9AM in flagstaff so i am already paranoid about getting enough sleep and simultaneously waking up early enough so that i can ingest enough coffee to be on my A+++ game and obliterate opposing counsel (who honestly and unfortunately really is the problem here, not the opposing party). so my alarm went off at 5:01 AM, as it does every day, and i did my customary one eleven-minute-snooze for days that i actually need to get something done. on the second try some awful hip hop song was coming at me and i actually appreciated that i had a reason to get up and stop the madness. side note: what is music coming to these days? one day i woke up to a song on the radio about skin tight jeans and wet dreams and literally got nauseous in my own bed. i made sure to kick aaron on the way out so he could hear me belt out some expletives about how "i'd rather be chained to a pole in my county stripes busting rocks with a sledgehammer than listen to this f*ing bullsh*t in the morning."

anyway, i got out of bed and started putting myself together again, peeking in at P on the baby monitor to make sure he is sleeping soundly. i really need him to sleep in today so i can get out of the house on time -- it is hard to say good-bye in the mornings when he's all bleary-eyed in his monkey pirate footie pjs. i sit down at my computer to type a few notes about my case and see on the computer that it is 4:58 AM. wait, i did everything except blow dry my hair AND already did some work all in minus-14 minutes? did i slide into a green pipe or blow a magic whistle sometime in the last hour?

although showering is usually the most productive five minutes of my work day, the mornings are often otherwise wasted until the coffee starts pouring in. i check my phone, my watch, the clock over the microwave. they all say less than 5 AM. i check my alarm. it's set for 5:01 AM. did i dream that my alarm went off? and dream that i pushed the snooze button? and dream that it went off again, playing the worst song my mind could conjur? unlikely. and if that were the case, it should go off any minute at the new 5:01 AM. then i see the time on my alarm clock says 6:08 AM. okay, that solves one mystery, but then i start panicking about what is the real time and who can i trust to give me the right answer!?

after another minute, i realize that the answer is NOT on the only clock in the house that i manually set 10 years ago, and more likely lies with the various other electronic devices that receive time signals from outerspace. i must've accidentally pushed the daylight savings button sometime and be operating on mountain daylight time, instead of mountain standard time. and got up at 4:12 AM without a complaint...

this is not the first time i've wondered if i operate in a parallel universe -- some segment of space and time where things seem to be perfectly rational and governed by laws of science and logic and reason. because in some other world i am surrounded by petty self-important nonsensical buffoons. back to reality ... at least i've got an extra hour to pick up an imported-french-chocolate mocha (available in cottonwood of all places) and leisurely wind my way up the canyon to flag.

in other news, aaron gave P an ice cube last night -- what fun. P thinks that if he just squeezes it tighter, he'll be able to get a good handle on it. false. he is easily assuaged though by splashing around in the growing puddle of water on his tray. silly baby.