9:25 AM, Redwood City Court House, Jury Assembly Room

Self didn’t want to come and toyed with the idea of blowing off her jury summons.

“I don’t have a car,” she told hubby.  “Surely that’s a valid excuse.”

“Don’t mess with the government,” hubby says.

“But it’s the truth: my car IS having engine problems.”

“You could get in big trouble,” hubby says.  “Stop with the dramatics.”

Hubby is so wonderfully supportive, so sympathetic to self’s every need.

Yesterday, the day after our day-long slog to San Luis Obispo, he went sailing with a group from his office.

He asked for Dramamine.  He tried on various sweaters and asked self for her opinion.

“Not the Ralph Lauren,” self opined.  “You’re liable to ruin it, what with the sea spray.”

When he returned last night, he was very happy.  Turned out he didn’t need the Dramamine, as an officemate had provided him with half a dozen ginger pills (called “Super Sailor”, self saw he had three of these left on his dresser).

After returning rental car to Enterprise bright and early this morning (before 8 AM), self asked an employee if she could be dropped off at Redwood City Court House.

“Do you mind waiting until the shuttle comes back?” young guy behind the counter asked.  “It just went to pick up a customer.”

“I’m kinda in a hurry,” self said, with unusual forthrightness.  “I could get in big trouble if I don’t report to the Redwood City Court House at 8:30 AM sharp.  I don’t want to mess with the government.” (Thank you, hubby, for putting the words in self’s mouth)

So, young woman was asked to take out the Humvee and deliver self to her destination.

On the way there, self noticed that the woman seemed none too friendly.  She had red hair, a purple blouse, and fabulous skin.  Self cast a sidelong glance at her and asked, “Ever been on Jury Duty before?”

Then, the floodgates opened: woman suddenly turned chatty.  In fact, she was so chatty that we missed the turn for Broadway and then had to wend through Sequoia Station, emerge on Jefferson, and then make various left turns.  By which time self was completely dizzy.

“I’m sorry,” self said to the woman.  “I won’t talk anymore.”

After enduring gruesome security check with snarling, bad-tempered cops, self found herself seated in vast basement room (cold, and the computers along the walls take five minutes to load a page) and noticed a line of people asking the lady in charge if they could be excused.  So self, feeling particularly energetic this morning, decided to line up as well.

When self reached the front, she came out with:  “Could I be excused?  I have a toothache.”

Lady looked at self.  “I’m sorry, no,” she said.

“And, I’m having gum surgery on Friday,” self continued.(Liar!  self thinks. You base creature, you’ll be damned to eternal hell, etc. etc.)

“I’m sorry, no,” woman says.  “If it gets really bad, I’ll have a word with the judge.”

Self wends her way back to her seat.  This is hopeless, completely hopeless.

But, self suddenly remembers that if she were not here, she would be working at the Writing Center, going over student papers.  While here, at least, she can read.

All is not lost!

Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.

La la la la, You Know You Want It: Vanity Fair’s 68th Annual International Best-Dressed List

Self is a woman with a mission.

See, she’s decided that what’s most fun about her blog are her “Asian sightings” — as, mention of Filipina in Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections (fibbed on her resumé, still got tenure– yes, we Filipinas are soooo resourceful!); as, in David Guterson’s Our Lady of the Forest (poor li’l invisible laundromat owner named– what else?– Mr. Kim!); as, in Vanity Fair‘s 68th Annual Best-Dressed List!

Self wants to know if there are any Asians on said list. Yes, any Asians parked in there with Anderson Cooper (who’s there every year; good thing they finally bumped him up to Vanity Fair Best-Dressed List Hall of Fame) and Jemima Khan.

So, OK, self is looking, looking, looking. Turning pages, turning pages. La-dee-da, la-dee-da.

Wait! There’s Sofia Coppola: oh, right, she’s Italian American. But something about her eye make-up emphasizes the sleek tilt of her eyes, so she has sort of a hip Japanese-looking thing going on. And didn’t she direct Lost in Translation, so perhaps she could be considered honorary citizen of Asian nation. And — oh my God, there’s Tilda Swinton! For the first time! Self loves Tilda Swinton!

Ok, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. Did self miss anything? How come there aren’t any Asians (Would Imelda have made the list when she was still housing her shoes in Malacañang Palace? What say you, dear blog readers???) Self could nominate several Asian dames in this category, beginning with Dearest Mum, who has impeccable taste and always looks like a million bucks, wherever she goes.

OK, sorry, self overlooked the fact that there is one Asian, a Japanese man, and yes self has to admit that Japanese men (some) are very cool, look cool, look rocker-hip, whatever. And this lone representative of our race in this list is (drumroll, please) Hidetoshi Nakata, 30, “former soccer star” (Is that a job description, self wonders?), who reports his residence as being “the world.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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