Cancer has been a fact of life for humanity for many, many years, some countries more than others. What is cancer? It is abnormal growth of abnormal cells leading to the formation of abnormal tissue. In other words, your cells freak out and make tumors. They can spread pretty quick, too. And if you've had a type of cancer before, you are, I gather, at a higher risk for having your cells freak out again in some other area.

Like my aunt. She had and beat breast cancer. She's one tough cookie. But she went to the doctor yesterday because of persistent pain in her leg.

She has bone cancer.

It was not a good day for the home team, yesterday.

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Today, I have to practice some law and stop blogging and stop reading and stop dealing with house moving stuff and house selling stuff and all the other shite. So, it will be quiet here today, in blogland. If you've come to read me today, may I suggest you check out some of my "Daily (practically) Reads"? They are all exceptional writers.

But before you go, spare a moment and remember President Abraham Lincoln, shot down this day in 1865 by John Wilkes Booth at the Ford Theater. He may have been the greatest president we have ever known.

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Check your closet when you get home tonight, gentlemen. The life you save may be your own.

This from the AP Wire today:

TENNESSEE: MAN SLAIN AFTER FINDING WIFE'S LOVER A Nashville man was beaten to death after catching his wife's lover living in a closet in their home, the police said. Rafael DeJesus Rocha-Perez, 35, left, was charged with homicide in the weekend slaying of Jeffrey A. Freeman, 44. Mr. Freeman's wife, Martha, had allowed Mr. Rocha-Perez to live in a closet of the Freemans' four-bedroom home for about a month without her husband's knowledge, the police said. On Sunday, Mr. Freeman discovered Mr. Rocha-Perez after hearing snoring and ordered his wife to get the man out of the house, the authorities said. Ms. Freeman told the authorities that Mr. Rocha-Perez bludgeoned her husband with a shotgun. (AP)

I don't really know what to add to this, if anything. But, come on, stashing your lover in the closet of the guest bedroom? Are you kidding me? I don't know about your guest bedroom closet, but I have cleverly ruled this possiblity out for my wife by already filling that closet with assorted crap and detritus. So, I'm feeling pretty safe at home right now I'd have to say.

Just the same, I'm going to take a quick tour of the closet and attic. Just saying.

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The Rule of Law, that which has elevated out of the Hobbesian version of life being nasty, short, and brutish, has collapsed in England. I base this on anecdotal evidence, the best kind really. I find this truly shocking when you realize that England is the home to what we consider the start of real civil liberties.

So, before we dive in, let's consider for a moment what is meant by the Rule of Law ("RoL") and the role of the Government in that scheme. At its base, the RoL will preserve the security of private property, both from invasion from abroad and from invasion from within. The RoL will make sure that you are safe in your property -- safe from intruders, perhaps from fire, safe in your title to it as you are protected from false and adverse claims to your ownership, and safe and secure in your castle, as the old saying goes. At its base, without that assurance of security, your willingness to participate in society, and perhaps your ability to do so, is fatally compromised. How do I support that? Easy. If your overriding concern is protecting your property from threats, you have no time to do anything else -- to grow food, to vote, to travel to local markets, to worship with your neighbors, to do practically anything except stand guard. You pay for this protection through taxes levied on your property and that is a rather acceptable convention and compromise. The RoL is not free but you can expect, most of the time, it will work and it will work to preserve property and thus preserve the social order.

But what if it stops working? Let me posit the following scenario. You own a second home, a vacation home. You own it free and clear, no cloud on your title, no mortgage, no adverse claims to possession. You can do with it as you please, assuming no wet lands or town ordinances restricting you. It is walled completely by a 10 foot high brick wall. One weekend, going out to the place for a little relaxation, you discover that your house has been broken into to and taken over by a group of squatters who proclaim their intention to live there.

What do you do and what do you expect to be done?

* * * *

Didn't have to think for long, did you?

You'd invoke the basic protections of the RoL and call the police and tell them to get out here and expel the intruders, right? Of course you would.

And you'd expect the police to go ahead and do just that, right? Again, basically yes. It might be more complicated than that but somebody would get arrested and rehoused in jail and someone else might be handed off to social services and rehoused in a shelter, but you'd probably get your house back. The RoL would have been vindicated.

Anything shocking about this scenario to anyone?

Yes? Well, then, my guess is that you must live in England where a person's home is no longer a person's castle.

I just read a little piece in the property section of the Telegraph that impels the conclusion that England has withdrawn the forces of the Government from supporting the RoL. Apparently, in a factual situation practically identical to the one I posited, a family has been forced to rent the vacation house to the squatters at a rent of £1 a week and an agreement to vacate the premises on three months notice. No word on how or who can enforce the agreement to vacate.

But what prompted my little tirade here was the statement put out by the police, and it is no exaggeration to say I found it shocking (“travellers”, below, are basically squatters):

Inspector Martin Elliott, chairman of Thames Valley Police Federation, (0845 8505 505), comments: "The whole subject of travellers and the law in the UK is a complete mess. Legally, trespass is not a criminal offence but a civil tort. All of the public signs that herald that 'trespassers will be prosecuted' are therefore inaccurate, and should read 'trespassers may be subject to civil litigation'. Obviously, this does not carry the same punch and would probably deter no one.

"The Government attempted to strengthen the law in relation to invasions of land a number of years ago, and created legislation that basically required there to be more than 12 vehicles and the land-owner to demand that they quit within a reasonable time.

"Then, the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister intervened and issued guidance to police forces and councils, which laid the grounds for a 'holistic' approach. This guidance suggests that a problem-solving approach is taken, with councils, police and land-owners working together to encourage travellers to either settle in a locality, or act more responsibly when moving around the UK.

"This is fine for large invasions of land, but what about when three or four vehicles turn up, as in this story? I would suggest that, in these circumstances, there is very little that the police can do."

Did you get that? Very little the police can do to enforce your right to occupy your property without interference.

As I started this post, I end it: The Rule of Law in England appears to be dead.

And by the way, I would think, as an aside, that this kind of thing should well and truly kill the secondary property market in England. After all, would you go to the trouble of buying a second house only to house some stranger? Not me, mate.

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Today, in 1861, at 4:30 a.m. Fort Sumter was fired upon, returned fire, and the United States was officially at war with itself.

After it had all ended, over 600,000 Americans had perished. Source.

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. . . standing in the bathroom, slumped against the wall, my head pressed to the cold metal of the door frame on the stall, wondering whether I was going to vomit, and not sure whether I hoped I would already or whether I thought I could chance taking the train home without throwing up all over myself. Not exactly the high point of my day yesterday, but I suppose it will have to do by way of introduction to the migraine that burst into being sometime after 3:00, as near as I can recall.

I've had these headaches since I was a child but I've not had one for a very long time and this one just seemed to come out of nowhere. I called the nanny and asked her to pick me up from the train and then waited as long as I could, in a dark conference room or shuttling between the dark conference room and the bathroom when the nausea got too intense and felt too sudden, until I was reasonably certain I would not vomit from the pain on the train.

I made my way slowly to the train and sat down, pulling a cap low over my eyes, and sat there for the entire ride, trying to think of anything other than what I had for lunch. I sat there in more or less of a daze, not sleeping, not awake, just zoned out so that the announcement for my station came as a surprise, a welcome surprise but a surprise just the same, thus indicating that I had lost all spatial relationship with my sense of time and distance -- usually I know exactly where the train is in relation to my stop without effort.

I walked, again very slowly and with great attention to my balance, up to the parking lot where the nanny collected me, thank goodness, and I was able to locate the sun glasses I had left in the car and she took me home. She took one look at me and said that she would stay with the kids until my wife got home. That was very kind as I was close to totally incapacitated at that point.

I went upstairs, undressed, and climbed into bed, still wearing my sun glasses, where I remained and I think I may have slept, for about 2 hours and the worst of it passed and I was finally able to remove my sun glasses and tolerate the light.

When I was a child and would get these, I always had to vomit from the pain, I could not tolerate light, and I had to get cold, as cold as I could. Sometimes, I would take off all my clothes and lie on the tile floor of the bathroom, just to get as cold as I could, with a towel wrapped around my head to keep the light out. I think that used to worry my parents quite a lot when I was small. I can certainly understand why that would be.

Today, I am post-migraine. Not 100% by any means. I did not work out and I took 2 advil as a precaution because I can still feel something lurking. If I make it through the whole day, I will declare a victory.

I suppose time will tell.

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The house was listed on Thursday and the brokers' open house was on Friday. Between Friday and Sunday night, I believe it was shown about 20 times, maybe more. We were politely asked by our realtor to make ourselves scarce this weekend since, after all, they are trying to show a house in which a family resides all while pretending no one lives there.

We were out on Saturday by 9 to deliver the children into the tender care of their grandparents. The kids slept over there Saturday night and, by most accounts, had a really nice time. Although, my father reports the following interesting exchange with the Girl Child:

GC: The Boy Child and I are going to get married and have a baby.

Grandfather: What are you going to do with the baby?

GC: We're going to play with it.

Grandfather: Where will the baby come from?

GC: Out of my butt!

That seems pretty close, actually, for a 4 year old.

And when queried about what she was going to be when she grew up, she explained that she was going to be a dentist and a ballet dancer and when questioned further about the combination, replied indignantly, "I can do both!!" You go, girl!

But that was all from Sunday. On Saturday, still on Saturday, my wife and I enjoyed a practically perfect example of the pre-child day, the kind of weekend day we used to spend when we were younger and had no responsibilities in our relationship other than making each other happy. Actually, those were pretty nice days, in retrospect.

We drove into the City on a glorious Spring day, dropped my wife's bag off at the gym so we could work out later and went off to the nearby American Scandinavian Foundation House to see an exhibit of contemporary Norwegian paintings from the collection of her Majesty, Queen Sonja of Norway -- a dedicated collector of contemporary Norwegian art. They also exhibited some of the Queen's stunning photographs of Norwegian nature. The photographs were mostly far superior to the paintings, I felt.

Then a taxi down to Chelsea to get tickets for the matinee performance of the Richmond Ballet at the Joyce. The Joyce is the preeminent center for modern dance performance in New York City. The best troupes in the world come through NY and many of them play the Joyce. Pre-child, we used to have a subscription to the Joyce and attended a lot of performances there. I heart the Joyce.

After procuring tickets, we adjourned for lunch at the Rocking Horse Cafe, where we sipped exceptionally spicy Bloody Mary's, drank strong coffee, and where my wife fell in love with a sandwich. And she fell hard for this: the Croque Señor, pulled pork sandwich with rajas poblanos, avocado, watercress, and queso Chihuahua.

After lunch, we wondered up the avenue a bit to go to my favorite source for Gay dance music so I could get the latest Gay Pride cd and whatever other excellent Gay party mix my buddy behind the counter, who has been there for years, could talk me into buying. They always have such a great selection and, what can I say, I love the music.

Then, the ballet. I was so disappointed by the performance. First of all, this was a big deal for this troupe -- the State Ballet of Virginia. This was their New York debut. As one group seated behind us said, they were "prepared within an inch of their lives". An inch, huh? Maybe they should have gone the extra mile. We saw two pieces -- Nuevo Tango and some Scottish thing. They were terrible. The dancers were wooden, no emotion, bad lines, sloppy movements, poorly defined hands and legs. I had a thought while watching them that just flinging yourself around a stage does not a ballet make. The choreography was worse, though. It was filled with cliches like dancers walking purposefully around the stage, lots of floor rolls, excessive use of props, overly dramatic lighting, total insensitivity to the music (unless that was the point, but I doubt it), and bad timing plays. It was dreadful. It was a second rate performance, if that.

I think we are spoiled living in NY and having our eyes trained by the best dancers in the world. I think that maybe the Richmond dancers, maybe, are at a disadvantage being so far from other dancers and the exchange of dance ideas and developments. I am trying not to say that they were provincial, because that is such a loaded word, but. . .

In any event, after the ballet, such as it was, we window shopped our way back over to the East Side and to go work out. On the way, we popped into furniture stores and thrift shops and a fun restaurant supply store where, my wife pointed out and wants to get, a sign for the kitchen which reads: The Hostess will seat you. I eyed several big espresso makers covetously, out of the corner of my eye so as not to alarm my good wife.

After a decent workout, we took ourselves off for dinner in the little concentration of Indian restaurants in the upper 20's in Lexington Avenue and for a little spice shopping in one of the excellent spice stores. My wife also picked up a glossy Bollywood gossip magazine from which I have added the word "gymming" to my lexicon. I did manage a decent little play on words, something that passes for humor in my house, when my wife and I had the following conversation concerning her order of Butter Chicken:

W: Do you think that they make this with regular butter or with Ghee?

Me: I have no idea. Why don't you ask the waiter and perhaps he can clarify it for you?

On the way home from the City, we received a phone call from my parents. The Girl Child was demanding to come home. She was only pacified with the promise of pancakes in the morning but it looked, for a moment there, as if we were going to have to go get her.

The Boy Child, by the way, declined to nap at my parents' house. My father said that after the Boy Child was piteously crying for a really long time, he went in where my son looked up at my father, cried, "Duuuude!", was picked up, flung his arms around my father's neck and kissed him as his savior. My father was quite pleased.

In any event, it was a wonderful day.

Now, as for the house, let the bidding begin!

By the way, if you are curious, I've put a picture of the exterior in extended entry below. more...

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1 Your house is gorgeous!

Posted by: Helen at April 11, 2005 11:46 AM (Oxw5k)

2 What an absolutely beautiful house. Good luck with the offers!

Posted by: dee at April 11, 2005 02:27 PM (sZnML)

3 Yes, your house is wonderful. Now, why are you leaving this abode??

Posted by: Azalea at April 11, 2005 05:31 PM (hRxUm)

4 Well, that explains why people should live in NYC. Great house! I don't even want to know what you're asking for it.

Posted by: Kathy at April 11, 2005 07:11 PM (RFVZA)

5 'out of my butt' *takes notes* glad that was strightened out. i had it all wrong! thank god for girl child. as for the house...yes, it is lovely. and another opportunity to see the lions! seems the whole process is moving along quite nicely. good luck.

Posted by: sn at April 12, 2005 08:06 AM (6FCAy)

6 You're leaving that??????? Oh, man, what I wouldn't do for it! And it's still got the lions!

Posted by: Hannah at April 12, 2005 03:26 PM (0d7ig)

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Go and bid Amber and Dan farewell as they hang up the blogging spurs and ride off into the sunset. They are great writers and I will miss them both. Thanks for all the great writing, you two, and best of luck in your future endeavors!

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The juxtaposition was a useful tool in studying architectural history, many moons ago. We would put two buildings up on the wall at the same time and compare and contrast and see what we could learn from the process. Like I said, a useful tool for art history but it has its limitations when applied to other things. I keep telling myself that, you see, and I'm almost convinced.

I was working out this morning, as I do most every morning, and the television was broadcasting coverage of the funeral of the Pope. While at first I was very skeptical about the benefit to my work out this broadcast could have, I ended up engrossed. It was beautiful and moving and wonderful and terribly sad all at the same time. One priest said it best when he said that maybe there was a life lesson here for all of us -- that here was a man who was rich beyond compare in love, his funeral attended by millions but who owned almost nothing, had no money, no family and no sexual intimacy but who was nonetheless rich. Something there for sure, even if I am not willing to pay the kind of price this man paid, putting to one side the fact that I am Jewish. Still, a much loved and, by all accounts, a tremendous man, a tremendous human being, a tremendous loss to the Catholic Church and to the world as a whole. New Yorkers have a special bond with the Church, whether you are Jewish or Catholic or something else. When John Cardinal OÂ’Connor died, I felt it as my loss, because as a New Yorker I felt he was my Cardinal, too. I hope my Catholic readers understand and don't mind my claiming him, too. And I think it was like that for a lot of New Yorkers.

Anyway, back to Rome and this morning. I was mortifying the flesh on the elliptical trainer and watching the funeral and it was very special.

And then, a commercial. The commercial, the first one in over 20 minutes, was for a drug, a medicine. Ok so far, right? The drug had something to do with vaginal infections. It had a long list of warnings and side effects -- like be careful because your vagina could fall out if you take this or you could bleed or your uterus might float away.

Boom. Your juxtaposition. Funeral of the Pope right up next to vaginal bleeding. The best and worst of America in terms of picking a time and place to run that advert. Advertisements pay for the television coverage. They make it possible to send the reporters to Rome and broadcast this beautiful rite. I get it, really. But couldn't Fox News have shown a different commercial at that time? Something a little less graphic, perhaps. Something a little more solemn. Maybe I'm the only one that this bothered, and that's ok, since its my blog and I get to write about whatever I want. But it was the juxtaposition that got to me. The Sacred/Profane or at least mundane. I would have felt the same if the ad was for foot fungus, by the way. What did this juxtaposition say about America, this mixture of Rite/Commerce?

And here is where I run into the limitations of the juxtaposition, for while the juxtaposition may always teach you something, maybe the lesson isn't worth having or the comparisons don't hold water.

I don't know if that happened here because I find myself curiously reluctant to follow the path that this juxtaposition is leading me -- to condemn Fox and American television for their timing. What do you think? Is this a juxtaposition worth talking about? Or should I have gotten off the machine before I cooked my brain this morning?

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We had the Girl Child's parent/teacher conference last night. It was, not unexpectedly, a love fest. They had only wonderful things to say about her: clearly very bright; very sweet; highly mature; listens well; nice to others; plays well with everyone; attentive to instructions; and just a joy and a pleasure to have around. They said that if everyone in the class were like her it would be a much easier job.

They told us nothing we didn't already know, of course, but I could still sit for hours and listen to people say nice things about my daughter.

Oh, and they were all totally charmed by the way the Boy Child came into class with the Girl Child every morning and waited to leave until after he and she gave each other hugs and kisses.

There are days I feel so lucky that I am simply waiting for the other shoe to drop.

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1 I remember feeling the same way with Lucy's parent/teacher conferences. All her teachers had nothing but high praise for her. They simply adored her. Then Ray, our boy-child became old enough to go to school. Wow. Suddenly, PT conferences were about as much fun as going to the dentist. "Won't sit still; rather make jokes than follow directions; seems to think school is a big joke". Well, he always did think school was a big joke; he never got over that. Regardless of how we handled it, Ray's eyes were always twinkling trying to figure out a way to disrupt the class. We even met with one teacher who had had both children and she did a double take when she saw it was *us* who were Ray's parents. She even asked if he had the same father! Now, THAT might have been a time for me to blurt out, "FU" but I was more lady-like back then, I suppose. ;-) Hope your BC shares his sister's sweet nature when he hits school. Because dreading the PT conferences is just no fun at all. It's SO much more fun when you can bask in the sunlight of being Model Parents rather than hang your head in shame. *grins*

Posted by: Amber at April 08, 2005 11:13 AM (zQE5D)

2 Glad to hear the the GC is raved about, she seems pretty sweet and smart. My parents stopped going to parent teacher interviews at one point. I think they were tired of hearing "He could be doing so much better, he could be an A student". I was a slackass, underachiever, bad attitude no goodnik. I hope my kid doesn't go down that route... maybe our mediocre income and meagre lifestyle will influence him in a good way. Hopefully.

Posted by: Oorgo at April 08, 2005 11:35 AM (lM0qs)

3 Well of course it was a love fest What a lucky, wonderful family. Glad boy-child is better!

Posted by: Elizabeth at April 08, 2005 02:00 PM (qbefm)

4 The other shoe drops when they become teenagers. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at April 15, 2005 11:39 AM (tyQ8y)

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Since you all asked so nicely and sent such good wishes, I feel compelled to let you know that the Boy Child is just fine. Perhaps it was just a touch of stomach flu, no way to know really. But he's fine and happy and beautiful as ever.

Thanks for all the well wishing!

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We have been having major problems with our phone lines this week and I just got a helpful call from Verizon to check on our status. It went something like this:

Her: Hi, this is Verizon calling to check on the status of your phone lines. Are they working?

Me: I don't really know.

Her: [astonished] You mean you haven't checked!

Me: Well, it really isn't my job to check and no one asked me to, but if you hang on for a second, I can go check right now, I suppose.

Her: Ok, now if you have any problems I will give you the Verizon repair number to call.

Me: What? You mean I can't just tell you, a Verizon employee calling to check the status of my lines, if I have a problem with my lines? That won't take care of it?

Her: No.

I hung up shortly thereafter since it was clear to me that this call had no purpose other than to waste my time and pad a statistic for the public utilities commission the next time Verizon wanted to raise rates. What a total crock.

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Do the police finally have a theory? Well, according to Aftenposten, maybe the Munch theft was linked to another robbery and maybe the gang who stole the Munch paintings did so to create a spectacular art theft that would tie up and divert police resources while the gang went on to perform another fantastic heist. Sounds ridiculous. Sounds like the police need to get some more money so they can buy a clue. I've been following this theft for some time and, well, here's the text of the article (in case the link expires) and you be the judge:

Munch robbery a diversion?
Police now apparently rounding up the final suspects in one of Norway's biggest robbery cases now believe their work may also lead to a breakthrough in the high-profile theft of two masterpieces by Edvard Munch.

The robbery, which was a ruthless and large-scale operation, resulted in the shooting death of police officer Arne Sigve Klungland, making it an exceptionally violent crime by Norwegian standards.

The police investigation to catch the members of the gang behind the NOKAS robbery is the biggest law-enforcement operation ever launched in Norway, and has already cost NOK 65 (USD 10.2) million, probably a bit more than the thieves made off with.

Now investigators say they cannot rule out that the robbery of Munch masterpieces "The Scream" and "Madonna" from the Munch Museum in Oslo on August 22 last year was part of an advance maneuver from the band behind the NOKAS heist. The goal would have been to tie up investigative resources by creating a spectacular art theft.

On the grounds that the members of the various criminal networks in the underworld in Oslo and eastern Norway know each other, police inspector Iver Stensrud is optimistic that more than one case may be solved by the NOKAS investigation.

"I would therefore not rule out that the arrests in the NOKAS case will lead to a positive development in the investigation of the Munch case," Stensrud told Aftenposten.

Police have biological trace evidence in the getaway car used in the Munch robbery, and have an increasing number of suspects in custody to test.

The Malaga arrest of Toska, in the company of a 28-year-old Norwegian suspected of being behind a major hashish smuggling operation, is another indicator to police that Norway's criminal circles often merge, with multi-faceted international criminals becoming the norm.

"It is interesting for us that these two were arrested together. It is relevant to raise the question of whether part of the robbery take has been used to purchase large quantities of hashish, and this is something the police will investigate closely," Stensrud said.

Think I'm being too hard on these poor, hard working idiots? The only promising thing, from my vantage point, is that they may have some form of "biological evidence" recovered from the getaway car.

I despair that these paintings will ever be found.

And while on the subject, I bet if they ever do catch anyone, no one is going to jail because they will demonstrate that they are unbalanced. I mean, if you can get away with stabbing six people on a bus, killing one of them, and not serve any prison time, what do you have to do to get put in the clink?

Accused killer not legally sane
A Norwegian-Somalian who went amok on an Oslo tram last August, killing one and injuring five with a combat knife, has been assessed as psychotic and cannot serve prison time.

Police arrive on the scene of the stabbing rampage that stunned Oslo in August last year.

Forensic psychiatrists say the 41-year-old man was psychotic when the crimes were committed and is still psychotic and recommend he receive treatment for at least five years. He stands charged with one count of murder and five counts of attempted murder.

District attorney Terje Nybøe will ask that the defendant be transferred to compulsory psychiatric care when the trial begins in Oslo municipal court on April 26.

Defense counsel Heidi Bache-Wiig said her client does not remember anything that happened and will plead not guilty.

The 41-year-old was seated in the front of the tram and suddenly stood up and began methodically stabbing passengers. The driver stopped and opened the doors to help people escape and the assailant ran off, eventually getting away after threatening a motorist into surrendering a vehicle.

The Norwegian-Somalian man was a known 'ticking bomb'. He had been released from the psychiatric polyclinic at Ullevål University Hospital four days before the tram attack and was on the police list of suspects when they received a tip from a mosque that led to an arrest.

The 41-year-old had no medication and reportedly had been sleeping rough, on benches and in bus shelters, and spending his days in a park in the period before the attack.

The investigation revealed that the defendant had tried to receive medical help just three hours before the rampage, but was refused. Norway's Board of Health criticized Ullevål for their treatment of the man, and for not supplying their final report to the man's physician.

Bache-Wiig told Aftenposten that she is still considering suing Ullevål for compensation for the way her client was treated.

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It kind of hit me last night that my brave volunteers set themselves up for whatever questions I felt like asking and then answered them forthrightly and completely, for which I am very grateful. But it occurred to me that maybe it shouldn't be so one sided. Michele, in one comment, suggested that I answer all the questions that I asked people. Well, I'm not really inclined to do that since that would be something like 38 questions. But it did seem to me that if my interviewees wanted to each pose one question to me, that would total the same number of questions that they each had to answer individually and give them each a chance to turn the tables back around on me, which they might enjoy.

So, Indigo, Hannah, Dee, Angie, Helen, and John, do you all want to ask me one question each? What do you think? Make sense to extend this meme in one last direction and point it back at me?

I leave it up to you all entirely.

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She was on a roll, last night.

First, the nanny and I were talking and the Girl Child came over and inserted herself into the conversation with this comment:

GC: Nanny is going to have a baby.

N: I am?

GC: Yeah, with her boyfriend.

N: Well, maybe someday, but not now.

Me: Besides, doesn't her boyfriend get a vote in that?

N: Yeah, daddies are very important, you know.

GC: No. They don't get to make decisions. The only ones who make decisions are Presidents and Mammas.

We both laughed but it occurred to me that it was not entirely inaccurate and moreover the President has to act, in some things at least, with the advice and consent of the Senate. The same thing is not really true for the Mamma who rarely acts with the advice and consent of the Pappa.

Then, later last night, I was putting the Girl Child in her bed and we had the following exchange:

GC: I hope that spider doesn't come back out from under my bed.

Me: If he does, don't worry, I'll eat him.

GC: Yuck!

Me: No, they're pretty good if you grill them.

GC: Pappa, you eat the yuckiest things!!!

Me: No, I don't.

GC: Yes, you do. People don't eat bugs. Frogs eat bugs. People eat food. And dessert. And snacks. And lunch and that's it.

There you have it, the four major food groups: Food; Dessert; Snacks; and Lunch.

No word on the spider.

As for the Boy Child last night, it was vomit city. All over his bed, my wife, the stairs, and his pyjamas. It was a long night.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:04 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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With Angie's answers up, this now concludes the interview game for my blog.

Thanks for playing, Angie!

This was actually a lot of fun and I might seriously think about doing it again some time, assuming interest on the part of prospective interviewees!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:36 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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This one, from the NY Law Journal on Monday:

Sex Trafficking Trial to Begin in Brooklyn

No word on when the trial will be expanded to Manhattan, but I'll keep you posted. Is this a great city or what?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:57 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I am not a generalist as a lawyer. I am a specialist, practicing in the field of complex corporate litigation, often dealing with complicated and expensive financial matters, sometimes frauds. There is a lot of law I don't know diddly about. In fact, there is more work that I don't do, way more, than work that I am qualified to do. For instance, the list of things I have no experience in would include, but is not limited to, family law, matrimonial, personal injury, medical malpractice, tax, entertainment, patent, trusts and estates, criminal law (except for white collar), and, construction law. I could go on, but you get the idea, right?

That long preamble was intended to explain why I have never seen a "Citation", as the document is called, from NY State Surrogate's Court. The Surrogate's Court is the Court which deals with the probate of wills and the administration of estates. As an aside, the building in NY City is flat out gorgeous and if you have the chance, you should stick your head in. Anyway, one of my colleagues is working on a contested will case. Bitterly contested and I won't go into the details here because, inter alia, I don't really know them. But my colleague came in to show me this Citation because it starts with the following language:

THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK
By the Grace of God Free and Independent,

And then it continues by telling the reader what the Court is ordering you to show up and argue about. But I was struck by this lovely opening language in the caption. By the Grace of God Free and Independent. Isn't that lovely and quaint and maybe even antiquated as a formulation? Even if we are free and independent, although maybe less so since the feds aggregated all sorts of powers to themselves and expanded the role and power of administrative agencies and delegated all these quasi-legislative powers with little oversight to them and then created all of these unfunded mandates. . . Well, you get the idea. I'm going to stop here.

Still, I like it. By the Grace of God Free and Independent. That has quite a ring to it, doesn't it? I wonder when they started using this style.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:31 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 I've long thought New York was the only other State in the Union with the arrogant sense of self-pride to match Texas. I have to agree that that is a very nice bit of ceremonial Deism and patriotism there.

Posted by: JohnL at April 07, 2005 01:19 PM (YVul2)

2 I was struck by those same words many many years ago, which I read on a replica of parchment at a City Hall exhibit. It was on a document signed by John Jay, in the late 1790's, appointing our city's first mayor (can't remember his name). Having temporarily lived in countries where military rule and dictatorships were the form of government, has made me cherish and highly value all our freedoms which are daily taken for granted. Thanks for the walk down memory lane.

Posted by: michele at April 08, 2005 08:04 AM (ht2RK)

3 The mayoral appointment michele is recalling was to Richard Varick, but he was not the first mayor. The first mayors were appointees of the Royal Governors-General, and it is from the form used by these royal appointments that we get "The People of the State of New York, by the grace of God free and independent..." formula. It used to be (as it still is in Canada) that the sovereign was the monarch, who needed to be evoked when certain common law forms were used. When our revolutionaries deposed the king but kept the English common law system, we had to replace the traditional “"George the Third, by the Grace of God, King of Great Britain, France (yes, he claimed to be King of France too!) and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc." with something more in line with the revolutionary ideology of “popular sovereignty.” We quickly (by at least 1777, when I’ve seen militia officers’ commissions so styled) came up with the “The People of the State of New York, by the grace of God free and independent..." form. I dig it too! The original of the appointment michele recalls is now on the market for $25,000 (see http://www.raabcollection.com/detail.aspx?cat=0&subcat=155&man=31

Posted by: new_yorker at July 29, 2005 02:49 PM (siim4)

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Sometimes I read too fast. Couple that with not getting nearly enough sleep, and not nearly enough high quality sleep, and you get this, at 5:45 a.m. on the train platform:

Actual Headline: Influx of Pilgrims Puts Strains on the Italians.

Headline as Read: Influx of Pilgrims Puts Strains on the Indians.

My Thought: What is this, an historical headline? Of course the Indians would have been put out by the arrival of the Pilgrims. It was the beginning of the end to their way of . . . Oh. Italians. Must mean the Pope. Right. Never mind. Nothing to see here. Move along, move along. How'd the Yankees do against Boston yesterday?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:55 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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John has posted his answers and they are, uniformly, excellent and interesting. I highly recommend you go forth and read them. John's description of his perfect performance was exceptional. Thanks, John, for your thoughtful answers!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:40 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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