Midwest Memo
Dodge ball
by Alan Shultz

On any given day life is like the game of dodge ball and you just best keep moving to stay ahead of what's coming at you.

Consider, for instance:

This fellow Scooter Libby in big hot water down in some D.C. federal court. Scooter's on trial for leaking the identity of some CIA agent that everyone knew was a CIA agent. What I'd like to know is how a guy with a name like Scooter ever gets trusted with state secrets in the first place. I mean... Scooter - it's cute, it's fun, but should our Vice President count on a main man with a grammar school nick name?

I don't know how things went for Scooter in his trial. I do know the jury is deliberating the case. One of the 12 jurors was dismissed for being tainted by news reports. The juror who was dismissed was described as a former museum curator from New York.

Everyone reporting the story of the dismissed juror has included one odd fact. The dismissed juror was the only juror who "did not wear a red T-shirt as part of the jury's Valentine's Day greeting to the court." ( Denver Post on-line).

Ok, let's stop there. If I was Scooter, I would wonder what the heck was going on with a jury that had time to coordinate Valentine's Day garb? Did they come as Santas in December? If deliberations run into Easter will they come as rabbits?

Good luck, Scooter, dodging whatever these folks throw at you.

What would you do? We got to the movie theater early for the 9:30 show Friday night. The first row of the second section seats was totally open and we took the very middle. These are the best seats in the house, if you ask me.

As other folks strolled in and found seats they kept an empty seat here and there. One was empty to my left but two seats were empty to my wife's right. Then walked in Mr. Nervy.

Although his companions were not with him, Mr. Nervy needed three seats. He sized up the front row and did a little mental rearranging.

"I need three seats together," he announced. "Could you two move over one?"

The question was directed at my wife and me and we obliged but had second thoughts for doing so.

Our reward for moving over was delivered by the one gal of the threesome who sat next to us. She put her feet up on the bar in front of us - just to annoy, I suppose.

What would you have done?

Return to sender. I remember seeing a movie once where the tenacious nature of one of the characters was depicted, among other things, in how she received her mail. She would go to the mailbox, review all her mail and then put the items she refused back in the hands of the mailman.

"Refused," she would say.

For the last year or so I have

marked "refused" on a bank statement envelope addressed to a former client that comes to me monthly. But the statement comes and comes and even the envelopes on which I mark refused come back like a boomerang.

Can't you refuse mail these days?

Raccoon mask. I've got a problem with certain fabric finishes, they turn me red and blotchy, an unpleasant look. I get excused from any shopping trips to the linen store, the fabric store, that kind of stuff.

The other day I slipped on a sweater I hadn't worn in a long time. I don't know what company this sweater has been keeping, but I suggest it's been spending time with new, never washed, sheets or something similar.

Once I had the sweater on, my face assumed the oddest cast. I turned a mustard yellow color everywhere except around my eyes. It was, to say the least, an odd look.

I took the sweater off, washed my face and rinsed with lots of cold water, but to no avail. My raccoon mask was on permanently for the day. I got plenty of odd looks. Some balls you just can't dodge.

Next week: Pilates.