Another Sad Song

Over the weekend I found myself at odds. The boy's mother and I went to see "The Iron Lady," Meryl Streep's latest triumph (really, they need to create another Oscar category in which Meryl Streep competes only against herself so that the other actresses will have a chance for the award), and had a bit of late lunch. But as most of you who know me can tell, at the end of it all she went back to her house and I went back to mine. She and I are good friends at this point, having survived raising the Beast as co-parents, and having done it with surprising success. But friends is all and will be all we will be.

So I went back to the Little Yellow House and pretty much stuck around the place most of the weekend. A bit different from the last two weekends: One week I went to Berkeley to attend the worst legal seminar I've ever been at--I think I actually lost knowledge going to it--and to see my lovely Berkelely boy; the following weekend I went to Bakersfield to talk to the Kern County Public Defender about some of their open positions.

The latter was a 2o hour drive, all told, and took up a holiday right in the middle of my jury trial. Foolish as I am, I thought that the interview went well and I got a good vibe from my interview panel. We talked about a case which I had recently won, which somehow ended up in the New York Times (it was the one where the DA charged Second Degree Murder on the theory that my client's breast milk was tainted with methamphetamine, where I had filed a motion which got the murder charge knocked out). One of the interviewers said "good job on that," something you usually don't hear in an interview. Truth is, I got a very nice feeling about the people in that office. I was even asked what my favorite moment as a public defender was, so I told two of my favorite stories. It seemed like we were all on the same page of the play book. I was getting ready to move to Kern County.

But I have heard nothing since. My experience in the interview wars is that if you are not called within the first week of the interview, they're not going to call you at all. As Friday came and went with no word, I cancelled my plans to move to Bakersfield and redoubled my efforts here in the 'Boldt.

Serves me right. I had told myself that I wasn't going to interview anymore, that I was here in Humboldt to stay and it was time to man up and face down the practice. But the letter from Kern, which showed up out of the blue (I had interviewed with them in August last year but had not reapplied) was very tempting.

Yeah, I miss being a PD. It was the one law job that I did well and that I enjoyed. Being a solo is a damned pain. There's always a ton of paperwork to do and no one yelling at you to do it. I am a great courtroom lawyer. I am competent on the paperwork but I don't really get a thrill in filling out family law forms.

So I sat in my Little Yellow House this weekend and watched TV and did a bit of walking around the neighborhood and read a book or two. And I sat on my bed and suddenly two very sad songs came to me. So I sang them, then I wrote them down on the theory that I might want to sing them again sometime.

I'm going to see if I can post them on the net with this new website which allows you to do such with little hassle. Can't remember the name of it off hand but when I post it, I'll get back on the blog and let you know.

I suppose the writing of any song tells me that I am still in the game, still paying attention to life. I do miss my boy and the noise he made in my life.

Well. At least the jury trial was a success--the jury came back with a "Not Guilty" in two hours.