The bus moved surprisingly quickly down the freeway once it reached it, and soon the bus was coming into the Downtown area. The bus stop was only a couple blocks from the courthouse, so I walked the rest of the way. Someone else on the bus had asked how far the courthouse was, and the driver answered, so I knew which way to go and how far it'd be.
When I arrived, there were already a few people standing on the front plaza. The front door was open, and a guard stood outside. He directed me to the building on the next block for reporting for jury duty. It wasn't quite light out when I entered the Hall of Justice (god - and therefore, nobody - knows why it's called what is a misnomer at best) and went through the metal detector, for which I removed my belt and phone from my person before passing through. I collected my things at the other end and walked to the Jury Lounge, where there were rows and rows of chairs separated by a central aisle. I looked around and saw the tables Peter'd told me about, and the row of chairs against the wall, which had a few electrical outlets. I sat at a table which already had one person at it. The woman turned out to be an employee of the parent company that owns Jack-in-the-Box. For almost the entire morning, only the two of us sat there as the room filled with people.
A welcoming announcement was made, during which jurors were thanked for answering the call to their duty as citizens. Then we waited. I worked on a piece I've been writing for the past several days. People around me drank coffee, chatted, and read, mostly. I had expected, but didn't hear, anyone talking on their phone. Luckily, there's wifi in the building, so I logged in and surfed for a bit before settling down to the task of writing and editing. my piece. Since it's around 5 pages or so, it took me a while to reread it, editing it as I went along. I fleshed out some portions of it, then realized that other, later parts of it needed to be rehashed because of the additional information already given in the added portion.
The first group of jurors was called. It was a long list, but I was not on it. Those people filed out. A young-looking man joined us at our table just before lunchtime. He told us about his past service, a case on which he'd served, and what he thought of the verdict. It was an interesting case because one of the defendants was McDonald's (the corporation), as well as the franchisee. The McDonald's defense team hired a private detective who followed one of the witnesses after the initial hearing was held, and the case turned out to be fraud, essentially a Nobody trying to exact a lot of money from a large corporation. That trial lasted seven days, I think he said. We lamented the use of their child in their fraud attempt. What kind of lesson does that teach the child? When you want/need money, come up with some story and sue someone. Nice parenting, guys.
We were sent out for a two hour lunch break.
I walked around the Downtown area, not venturing very far from the courthouse and Hall of Justice, but far enough to get some sun. I managed to get a new transit ID card, which cost $7, and had it registered in case I should lose it so that I can be issued a new one to replace it without losing any balance I already had on it. I walked past the location of the hat shop where I'd bought my first hat in San Diego, HatWorks, located just to the east of Horton Plaza. The entire building looked like it was being gutted & refurbished. The hat shop was gone. I wondered if it'll reopen after the construction.
When I returned to the Jury Lounge, the other seats at the table had been taken by others, so I sat in an aisle seat in one of the rows toward the rear of the room. At about four o'clock, most of us thought we'd be done for the day, but then another list of jurors was read out, and I was on this one. We went, en masse, to Department 46, a courtroom where a hearing was already underway. We waited outside and chatted among ourselves. We were called in a specific seating order into the courtroom, and were referred to by our juror number. I was juror number 25. There were thirty potential jurors.
It was a criminal case. The defendant was a youngish-looking man. The prosecutor looked not much older. The judge had a neatly trimmed beard, and the defense attorney had long, dark, curly hair. We each stood and gave basic information about ourselves, including our names, the number and identities of the people in our households, and whether we believed we could be just and fair. Of course, nobody recused themselves at that point, although two courthouse employees were in the pool. They were both preemptorily dismissed during that stage of the hearing. I was preemptorily dismissed, as well, which was just fine with me. I said something that made the defense attorney realize that I was already leaning against her client, who was, or had intended to be, a customer at the "gentleman's club," located in Kearny Mesa which I'd passed many times while riding the bus to and from Pacific Beach during my early days in San Diego. I don't know anything more about the case, but my impression is that the guy came into the bar, started acting either drunken and/or became belligerent, and was told to leave, which he refused to do. The ensuing mêlée caused the police to become involved, and this trial was the next step in the relationship between the defendant and the criminal justice system.
I was able to catch an express bus back to Mira Mesa, and had forgotten that I'd driven to the transit center. I boarded another bus at the transit center, intending to just take it the few stops home when I realized, soon after boarding, that I'd my car there! I got off at the next stop and walked to my car, which sat, unmolested, in the parking lot.
I drove to pick up my CSA share and then came home. We got strawberries this week. I think I might visit the supermarket to see about blueberries. The blueberry-strawberry tart I'd made with the last box of strawberries, in which I also used a box and a half of fresh blueberries, was well-received.
For dinner, I prepared:
Carrot Soup with Parsley and Orange
1 small bunch carrots, sliced (about a pound)1 medium-sized orange (I used one of the bloods from our share)
1 small bunch parsley
3 tsp. vegetable soup base concentrate (I use "Better Than Bouillon")
7 c water
a few cranks of nutmeg (from my nutmeg shaver)
4-5 stalks fresh chives, chopped
1 T unsalted butter
Melt the butter in a large soup pot (this is a one pot meal) and add carrots, sautéing them lightly until they become fragrant. Add chopped chives, and stir to combine. Cook for a few more minutes. Add water, soup base concentrate, nutmeg, and orange zest. Bring to a boil, then lower temperature to simmering, and simmer for thirty minutes.
Check the carrots to make sure they're softened, then use a wand blender to blend the soup, in the pot, until mostly smooth. A few lumps are acceptable. Add parsley, then scoop the soup into bowls.
Serve with a dollop of creme fraîche.
Yum.
I'm also considering making an apple tart, since we got more apples in our share this week, as well, and there are enough of them to bake into either a pie or tart. Pie might just be easier, though it'll depend on what kind of crust I feel like making...
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