This morning my wife waits for her number to be called at the Thurston County Courthouse, her first time swimming in the jury pool. Though she grumbled a bit when the notice arrived, I know that in her heart of hearts she wants to be chosen. That is, if being a fan of "true crime" doesn't automatically disqualify her.
Meanwhile, I just received an email from my mom. A green card-carrying Canadian citizen, she has lived in the U.S. for nearly two decades, steadfastly refusing to learn English and assimilate. She always sings the praises of Canadian milk chocolate, keeps in constant communication with her Canadian friends, and even bakes with only Canadian flour. I've hounded her for years, pointing out that she's been paying taxes without voting for the bums who tax her. (But then, come to think of it, didn't all the Loyalists, who thought "No taxation without representation" was just fine, end up fleeing to Canada?)
Today's big news, though, is that she's finally starting the process. She's taken--and passed--practice citizenship tests, even though she's still refusing to join an English class. (I guess I should point out that it's her native language.)
Congratulations, Mom. Soon you'll be an American. Little tears. Of pride.
Update: My wife was dismissed. She claims it's because a friend of ours is a Thurston County Deputy Sheriff, but I'm pretty sure it was the true crime novel she was reading during breaks. (Seriously.)