Boo to you Judge Rafferty and the New Jersey Judicial System

I just had my appearance before Judge Rafferty to explain why the Evil Empire of Wells Fargo should not foreclose on my house. What heartbreak! The Wells Fargo legal whore did not even deign to appear--we just heard his disemboidied voice floating over the courtroom from a conference call.

Did the judge look at the evidence I presented that WF had lied? No. Did he accept the word of the disembodied voice that he did indeed have in his possession the original mortgage note even though the disembodied voice (that could have been Tinkerbell for all we knew) did not bother to actually send it to the court? Yes, he did.

Slam-bang-thank you m'am our case was dumped into mediation as apparently all foreclosures are in New Jersey whether or not they are legal to begin with.

I sympathize with the overworked New Jersey judiciary as they are inundated with foreclosures. Well, I try to sympathize but I am unemployed and would love to have a job in a courtroom that races through cases so blithely. But really, could the judge have PAID ATTENTION to my lawyer who was physically present in front of him?

Maybe I should have unbuttoned my blouse. Twenty years ago that would certainly have caught his attention. Now he would probably have the bailiff remove me for trying to scare the court to death.

I LUV YOU TUBE! From the worst cello player in the world.

After weeks of nagging at my son for spending hours watching car crashes, bones breaking during football games and cats spinning on chandeliers, I finally broke down and explored You Tube. I am in love. There are episodes of old shows I love and have not seen for years, Pablo Casals playing the cello and demonstrations of crotchet stitches I cannot master. And, yes, cats spinning on chandeliers can be really funny.

Why oh why did I not discover wonderful You Tube before?

Speaking of cello music (which I can even though most people are bored by it but this is my blog) I love watching Pablo Casals because I have a glimmer of the difficulty of what he did with a cello. In my youth, I was the absolutely worst cello player in my school orchestra. I loved the way the cello sounded, like a deep rich voice behind the violin's squeaking, and I was determined to master it. Alas! I was so bad the teacher gently advised me to first just bow above the strings, then urged me to take up the bass violin and then I got the hint and quietly gave up music.