Browsing Archives for January 2008

Here we have the Hyannis Port Kennedy Compound. Note the sweeping lawn, the white house, the porch and the multiple pointy roofs.

And now my house – note the sweeping lawn, the porch, the white house, the multiple pointy roofs.

Here we have a bunch of Kennedys lined up in matching bathing suits with matching parts in their matching heads.

Here we have a bunch of my family lined up with matching uh…matching um… matching arms akimbo.

Here is the famous photo of Robert and Ethel Kennedy’s family stretched out in front of a Italian Villa type mansion.

And here is the famous photo where we are sort of lined up and sort of in front of an Italian villa. Okay not really – but maybe… if you squint… really hard.

And now Jack goes for a touchdown pass in front of yet another Kennedyesque gorgeous, timeless, classic American dream house posed beautifully amidst majestic oaks on a sprawling lawn.

And here are several photos of my family doing the exact same thing.

Except it is colder.

And muddier.

And a little rougher.

I am not sure the Kennedys could handle it.

Oh and um… we have a bulldozer parked in the background and we don’t know if the bulldozer guy is ever going to come back and get it. Other than that….

The same…

The Country Doctor and I worked at the same place for about a year and during that time he asked me out once, but I was involved with someone else at the time. In fact, when he asked me out, this is how I responded.

“Gosh – I would really love to go out with you, but I am dating someone else.”

So we continued seeing each other at work and occasionally having brief stilted, embarrassed conversations. Eventually my work schedule changed and I stopped running into him.

A few months later, my boyfriend broke up with me, which was a very good thing as about the only thing that was healthy in that particular relationship was how much I loved his mother. She was a girl after my own heart. She was always buying crazy things at thrift stores and garage sales, hauling them home where her family would ridicule her for her strange purchases while I looked over her tarnished treasures and thought they were marvelous. Old woven rugs, vintage hats, corroded silver spoons – sometimes she would just hand her finds over to me, glad to know someone who appreciated her taste for strange old stuff. I knew that if I ended up marrying Don, I would have a miserable marriage, but a fabulous mother-in-law, and that really didn’t seem like a good foundation for marital bliss. Nonetheless, our break-up sent me into a tailspin from which I did not readily recover.

Shortly thereafter, I took a new job at a health food cooperative and also took a part-time teaching job at a private school. My sister and I moved into a new apartment with her disease ridden puppy Nick. April was engaged to Clay and I rarely saw her, but one day she came home and noticed that I had moved my mattress out onto the balcony of our apartment.

“What are you doing with your mattress out there?” she asked.

“Well… uh… um… I just wanted to sleep outside…you know get some fresh air.”

April just sort of stared at me…

There was a long pause…

Followed by a sideways glance…

Accompanied by a heavy sigh…

Finally she spoke, “Whatever happened to that guy that asked you out last year?”

“Oh… that guy?”

“Yeah him. Have you seen him around lately?”


“I think I am going to give him a call.”


“I think I am going to call him and beg him to take you out before you move into the woods, start wildcrafting herbal tea blends, while meditating and talking to trees!.”

So she called him. I had to leave for work and was not able to listen in, but I called her as soon as I got to work and made her recount every detail of the conversation. She had talked him into calling me and later that evening… he did.

Me – “Hello?”

CD – “Hello – is this Rechelle?”

Me – “Um…yeah…”

CD – “Well, hi…this is the notyeta Country Doctor.”

Me – “The what?”

CD – “The nothyeta Country Doctor.”

Me – “What are you talking about?”

CD – “Someday it will all be clear to you…until then would you like to go out and do something?”

Me – “Um…okay…”

CD – “Well… what would you like to do?”

ME – “I don’t know…what would you like to do?”

CD – “Well I would like to do what you would like to do.”

Me – “Um… well… I don’t know what to do – what do you want to do?”

CD – “Whatever you want to do…”

And so on and so forth – yeah it was riveting – anyway he finally pulled out of me what I wanted to do…

Me – “Do you still have that motorcycle?”

CD – “Yes”

Me – “Could we go for a ride on that motorcycle?”

CD – “Sure – that sounds great.”

And so that is what we did. We drove all over the countryside yelling tidbits of conversation into each other’s ears, stopping occasionally at a pretty view to talk. After a while we decided to get something to eat and this is where he took me.

The Yello Sub and guess what…

We both ordered the exact same sandwich!

A green turkey – which is a fabulous concoction consisting of turkey, guacamole, salsa, sprouts, cream cheese, on freshly baked and oven toasted whole wheat bread.

They have a lot of different sandwiches at the Yello Sub.

It is kind of a miracle that we would both love the exact same sandwich.

Do you want to know what happened next? Do ya? Well, do ya? Okay – They give you a card at the Yello Sub to let you know when your order is up. So while we were waiting, I asked the notyeta Country Doctor a question.

A question from which he has never really recovered…

A question that made him fall instantly in love with me.

And dream of having four boys with me. And of building a house with me. And of stapling our son’s head together while I watched in horror.

Do you want to know what the question was? Do ya? Well do ya?

The question was…..

What do you think about Ross Perot?

That’s right! Turns out I was the perfect date. First, I suggested a motorcycle ride, then we ordered the same sandwich and to top it off, I asked a politically minded question. The Country Doctor loves politics and even though I could really care less – I appeared to care and that is all that matters.

After that he was putty in my hands. And we lived happily ever after.

My Day in Court by CDW

January 8th, 2008

My appointment with the municipal judge was scheduled for five-o-clock in the afternoon.  Right around four, I started to get jittery.  I worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my tag receipt which was my only proof of having paid for my expired tag.  I worried that I wouldn’t be able to find the ticket the officer had given me which I needed to give to the judge.  I worried that I had the wrong time and kept checking and re-checking the e-mail that the clerk had sent to me with the new time and date.  I made a cup of tea to calm myself down and then left the house with plenty of time to find the municipal court.  Never having been accused of a crime before, I wasn’t sure where it was.

Note to readers – we live in a small town.  Our municipal court is located in our police station which used to be the library which moved across the street to a building that used to be a bank.  The bank moved out to the highway across the road from the new hardware store which used to be downtown, but got torn down to make a larger parking lot for the Methodist church. 
When I arrived at the police station/court/former library – the entrance hallway was crowded with several people.  I quickly located the small courtroom and sat down.  Three other people were already in the room.
“Is this the only courtroom?”  I asked a lady that was already seated when I arrived.
“Yes,” she paused a minute and then added, “they usually start right on time.”
“Oh good.” I said wondering what kind of hardened criminal gets to be so experienced about court start times and why such an unsavory character was wearing a nurse’s scrub uniform.
Five-o-clock came and went.  More people filed into the room and took seats.  A thin man with impressive horn rims and a tie came in and sat at a long table in front of the judge’s bench.   He turned out to be an attorney.   
The judge came in at about ten after five.  He sat down and immediately began to rattle off courtroom factoids about pleas, arraignments, representation, remaining silent, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.  
The judge called the first person forward.  
It wasn’t me.
That’s when I realized that everyone in the room was going to be on trial together.  We all had the same five-o-clock appointment.  The judge read off the crimes of which the person standing in front of him was accused.  This person stood awkwardly in front of the judge balancing on one foot and then the other, trying to find a place for his hands.  The judge asked the person for a plea and the person said, “guilty”.  
I had read (on the internet) that you should never admit guilt in a courtroom.  Even if you are guilty, you should say “no contest”.  I was a little concerned about that person admitting guilt to the judge, but I reserved my right to remain silent.
Several more people got up before the judge and had their crimes read publicly and then plead either guilty or not guilty.  No one said “no contest”.  I started to get a little nervous about my courtroom strategy.
Finally, my name was called.  I got up before the judge.  He cited the violation for which I had been accused which was operating a motor vehicle with an expired tag.  He stated that the maximum penalty for my crime was either thirty days in the county jail or twenty five hundred dollars.  I started to sweat profusely at that point.  
I handed my tag receipt and my ticket to the attorney.  The judge asked me how I wanted to plea.  
“No contest.” I said.
“No contest?” the judge asked.
“Yes… no contest.”  I repeated.  I did not mention that I had learned this answer from the internet.
“If this case were to go to trial, do you think you would be found guilty?”
“I… well… I don’t know…” I said.
“Do you think the county has a clear case against you?” he asked again.
“Well…I… um… I really don’t know Your Honor…”
I wanted to say, “Do you have a crystal ball?  Can I whip out my tarot cards?  Do you mind if I conduct a seance to find out?”   I mean heck… the County Treasurer sent the renewal to our old address, but managed to send renewals for the truck as well as outrageous real estate valuations to our new address.  Is it my fault they don’t cross check these things?  Is it my fault that I don’t sit around chewing my nails every year until my tag renewal shows up in the mail? It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do!  There are walls at which to stare! There are ceiling fans that need me! 
The Judge said, “I need a yes or a no.”
“What…?” I asked.
“I need to either enter a yes or no to my question,” he stated, “Do you think a trial would result in a guilty verdict?”
“Oh” I said, “um… well… I guess.”
“Okay,” the judge sighed, “I will take an ‘I guess’ for a yes.”   
He bent over his desk to write something down, probably:  this defendant is a complete moron, while the attorney looked over my receipt.  
After a few seconds the attorney looked at the judge and said, “The city moves to dismiss the charges against the defendant.”
I didn’t even have to cry or beg or rent my clothes or scrape my boils in a pit of ashes or… or.. or anything!
The judge then asked me why I had not paid my tags on time.
“Well your honor, we moved…  and the notice did not come to our house… we got the truck notice…  but we bought the truck after we moved…  so I guess it is registered under our new address…  and I just didn’t think about the van…” I stammered.
He then looked me over and said, “weren’t you supposed to be here a few weeks ago?”
My face turned bright red and I stuttered, “Uh… yes… I just got the uh… the wrong date in my head… and uh… well… I am easily flustered.
I have no idea why I said I am easily flustered.  Maybe I should have just said… I am easily an idiot… but I think the judge already knew that.
The judge went on to explain that the reason the penalties for expired tags are so high in our county is because the same statute that covers an expired tag also covers a blah blah blah bl

ah blah…

“Oh… um… well… yes… okay… thanks…” I said wondering when the hell I could leave.
The judge grew silent.  
I smiled at him and at the attorney and said, “thanks” again.  
Then I grabbed my bag and FLED THE COURTROOM.  
What can I say … I am easily flustered.
The end.