Not a lot to say here lately; nothing but a persistent jangling in the Brain Department. I testified Wednesday on the negligent management practices of my former business partner. Hard to believe it's been five years since I've suffered her presence, and in the courtroom she wouldn't meet my gaze. Interestingly enough, this was a divorce trial -- and I was a witness for her husband. The plaintiff is seeking big $$$ in addition to that which she's already pilfered, fraudulently, from her husband's bank account. There's more than a fair amount of bona-fide crazy behavior going on here -- crazy in the belongs-at-Western-State-Hospital department. Either that or a nice spartan little cell somewhere far, far away. (I vote for the cell.)
Sitting in the witness stand comes with its own agitation (thus the jangling). The attorney asked me questions on specific matters other than those for which he prepped me, so I had to think fast, and answer fast. And then the cross-examination, which, mercifully, was brief. It was the most I've seen of an actual courtroom outside of Law & Order. Needless to say, I am really glad it's over.
And it's pale comfort that I'm not the only person who fell victim to her 'charms'. I'm reminded by my husband that people like her excel at this type of manipulation. I can only imagine how many others have endured her predations.
And then we have my friend Carol, who I miss every day, and she's not even been gone a week. Already there's a list of things I want to discuss with her, tell her about. I want to make her laugh. I want her to make me laugh with her sharp, dry wit. Her take on the world always put everything in perspective, and I never left an encounter with her -- however brief -- without feeling better about something, without having my faith in the universe restored.
(This is the place in the blog entry where I emit a sigh: sigh.)
Two days in a row now there's been a starling on the wire outside the studio at work, belting out quite the fantastic string of melodies. When I stand out on the side walk and look up at it, the singing stops. Yesterday I made some chirruping sounds in his/her direction, and the bird mimicked them back to me. As disliked as these birds are, I never tire of their persistent chatty conversations. I always think of them as a kind of avian Tower of Babel when they gather in great numbers and shriek, wheeze, whistle, rattle and engage in their usual clickety-clackety brouhaha.
So I just want to say thank-you, starling.