A few weeks ago I was graced with the opportunity to be on a jury.  When I went to the courts for my summons, it seemed like there were thousands of people there, all crossing their fingers that they would be dismissed.  Yet somehow, at the end of the day, I was one of six that was put on a case.  

You should have heard the stories people were making up for the attorneys!  Car accident case? My four brothers all died in separate car accidents. (Separate. Really?)  I hate to make decisions. I am really bad at making decisions.  I can barely dress myself. I flunked out of college. Help. I might have to take time off work?  I started a job three years ago and am still afraid they wont like me not coming in. I might get fired. This makes me nervous.  

What did I pitch? That I may or may not be in Africa in a few weeks.  Guess that didn’t matter.

The first day of the trial was yesterday, and while I’m not allowed to speak about it AT ALL (or else my lips will be sewn together, or my tongue cut off, something of the like), I’m going to just point out the fun stuff.

When you walk into a court room, everyone in the “audience”? stares at you.  You’re the six they depend on; no matter what goes down, the six of us can avenge anyone we want, be as evil or as civil as our personal will allows! So powerful!  We happen to be a young jury–most of us are in our mid-twenties.  I’m sure they don’t like that. Us children.

After you sit down in your super-important order (I don’t really get the point), the judge talks to you like…you’re five..explaining the difference between the prosecutor and the defendant, what the lawyers can and can’t say, and my favorite: if anything unlawful is said during this case, I ask you to dismiss this from your minds.   Sounds like something straight out of Harry Potter, no?

As the trial went on (and on, and on) I tried my best to not let my ADD take the best of me.  I did listen, yes, but I also observed other ..important things that were going on in the court room.  Firstly, some dude man on the stand that is about 100 years old had a snake tattoo on his arm. How cool!  And the guys sitting in the back with the suits on, who are they?  There were no witnesses, so are they just well-dressed friends?  And the sign above the judge, could you try to fix that?  It currently says In God We rust.  

I think the judge saw all of us jurors start to slowly lose our minds, so he called a ten minute “recess.”  We went into our little room and checked all of the empty munchkin boxes, talked about how we should bring a deck of cards tomorrow, and asked if anyone else saw that awesome tattoo.

Clearly, justice will be served.  

Off to round two !

My dear friends, 

Today is a VERY special occasion.  Exactly one year ago today, I wrote my first blog post!  I vividly remember sitting in the library applying to jobs, and on a whim, decided to relive me and Nicole’s trip around the country.  I was extremely timid at first, unsure if anything I wrote about would be remotely interesting. But the comments, support, and enthusiasm from all of you has made me realize that my writing is actually enjoyable, and is not purely an act of self-indulgence and pride! 

With life being in complete disarray, it’s wonderful to have something that I’ve committed to for a year’s time.  This blog has been my rock, and in a way, I treat it as my own child.  It’s the only thing I’ve really produced that has continually grown; it’s made me a better writer, a better thinker, and has honestly made me more laid back and accepting.  While what I write is true-life, most non-fiction comes from some sort of falseness–be it the absence of truth, or a tone of writing that makes it seem that one feels concretely about a certain idea or event.  My blog is a personal space that has never become private, but it has allowed me to write in a way that actually lets me become the way I write. The way I have decided to reproduce my life in this blog has made me realize that when it comes down to it…..life is funny.

There’s a lot in this blog. From crashing a wedding in Albuquerque, to living in half a basement in Maryland, to discussing how I don’t own proper rain gear, to Sufjan concerts, top ten moments, joining a band, cooking oatmeal, and discussing politics, this blog has been places. I’m excited to see where it goes in a year from now. Could be anywhere.

Really–anywhere.  

And Nicole!  She has been my partner-in-crime, and I still feel like this blog is as much her’s as it is mine. In this past year we’ve moved away and done our own things, and yet here we are again back together, eating pasta out of pots, digging out nickels and dimes to buy coffee, pitching our tent out on a deck in Fire Island, and reminiscing about our dream house in the woods. 

No matter where we go, some things will never change.

SO!! Since it’s my child’s first birthday, Ima ask fo presents! I can see how many hits I get a day on this thing, and while I’m not in the thousands, I do get a lot of daily reads! So, I simply ask–who are you!?! Tell me.  If you read this blog, gimme a comment. If you don’t want to reveal yourself to the ten’s of other people who might comment (maybe, please?), email me! lschwecherl@gmail.com.

OR, if you don’t want to do that, send me money. I love money.

And I love you! 

 I never really knew much about Fire Island until last summer.  My brother’s girlfriend and her family have been going every summer for a while now, and last July I decided to take the ferry over “for a night” to go to the beach and hang out.

Well, I ended up staying..the whole week.  Renting a house out on Fire Island is really the true definition of a vacation. Once you get off the ferry, you enter a small little world of restaurants and bars, shops, narrow streets lined with beach houses, and miles and miles of sand and ocean. No cars are allowed on the island, so people walk around by foot or bike, passing by the occasional deer, church, and baseball field.  

Welp, Fire Island happened again this summer. I arrived with my brother Thursday night, where we spent three nights of pure summer-bliss.  With a grand total of 18 of us, things happened. We played competitive games of Spoons mixed with homemade thyme-infused  vodka lemonade, which clearly kept things interesting. There were hours of r&r at the beach, and pages and pages of book-reading.  We happily ate ourselves into oblivion with eggs and bacon, cheeseburgers, grilled brie and goat cheese, chips and salsa, pancakes, and blueberry pie. We also might have come home late Friday night from town and devoured a whole package of cookies. Maybe.  We danced in bars to shitty summer songs.  We discussed english grammar over a bag of Tostitos. We took beer showers. We got burned. 

Jane was awarded MVP for her individually wrapped brownies, Sean sat in a chair that just magically broke into seven pieces, and I was stung by my first bee/wasp/hornet (unknown) while Flo simultaneously dove in the ocean and stabbed her nose with her piercing, which resulted in a bloody face.  Nicole and I slept in a tent on the deck.  Zak and Jane made bloody mary’s, chile-vodka, and blackberry gin. There were couples everywhere.  I talked to only one guy when we went out, and he said I had an “honest face.” Is that the new pickup line of 2011?

 It is really awesome to experience another family’s summer tradition.  I can’t feel what the Nichols’s must feel going over the Fire Island; that’s an experience unique to themselves.  But, it is wonderful to get a taste of something special, and to create your own feeling of a place.  

And perhaps, a new tradition will evolve.