Item: Tommy is NOT moving to crappy Shreveport and I will not have to worry about his accent picking up hints and flecks of Cajun drawl. Additionally I will remain blissfully ignorant of the decor at the Shreveport Regional Airport Terminal.

~~~~~~

Last week, I sat in this very seat at work and was a little horrified to see a collection of judicial support staff gathering around the door. "Brian, here's your package!"

"What are you talking about? I didn't order anything to be delivered."

"Well, it's addressed to you and it was dispatched by special courier from the Office Depot just a few minutes ago, and we were wondering what office supplies you might need to buy on your own. You know we make a weekly order of supplies and if you weren't getting enough binder clips or something we would have ordered more for you. I mean, I certainly hope you're not going to complain to anyone about the office supply situation as we were simply not informed of any complaints and you took on the responsibility of purchasing your own office supplies completely on your own, as is your right as an American citizen, but not because of anything we did wrong."

"I'm telling you I didn't order any office supplies."

Ilene placed the package on my desk in front of me and backed away from it a bit. The other secretaries retained their respectful distance. They looked on, expectantly.

I felt very much on display, so I opened the package gingerly from one end, just enough for suitable peekage. I looked in, but couldn't quite make out what was inside, so I just tore into the thing.

Inside I found an entire box of red Sanford Unibal Gel Grips with medium points and lids, not clickies, which just happen to be my favorites!

I held the box of pens above my head like a child on Christmas eager to show off his latest treasure to happy onlookers. Only, the secretaries weren't particularly happy.

"Are those gel-ink pens? You know the state has specifically limited our budget for those. You can't be ordering gel pens with state money, you know. You didn't use the judicial account to order those, I hope. You'll get us all fired!"

"Ladies, I'm telling you. I didn't order the pens. I didn't. I didn't even know the judiciary had an account at Office Deopt, much less the account number. But even though I didn't order them, I'm sure as hell not turning them over to whoever did, that's for damn sure."

"Well, if you didn't order them, who did? Check the receipt?"

So I checked the package for a packing slip and looked it over. I saw my name complete with accurately spelled last name, my Judge's real name, the address of her chambers, a billing address from someone I didn't know who lives in New England, and his personal credit card number. That's when I got creeped out.

Oh my God, I thought. This is from someone who reads my diary.

For any of you who may have missed it, I recently publicly mourned the loss of my favorite red pen. I blame my stubby midget fingers for the death of my pen and life in the chambers has been anything but pleasant since I buried the little guy in the park.

Somebody read about how sad I was and spent real money to replace my pen with twelve beautiful new ones. REAL MONEY! And though this isn't the first time someone has taken the clues about my specific location and personal identity I apparently drop quite freely in the pages of this journal to send me a package, I was still a little wigged.

See, I still feel an artificiality in regard to the blogging experience. Sure I know people who read my diary, some I knew before, some I've met since, some I've met through the Soonerverse. But the pens came from a real live stranger and that's an odd experience.

I immediately sent Peth an email that said something along the lines of, "oh my god you won't believe what is happening to me I just received a package from a stranger who I DON'T EVEN KNOW and he lives in New Hampshire of all places I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYONE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE and I KNOW it's someone who reads my diary because you will not even believe this but it's a BOX OF THE PENS I SAID I LIKE IN MY DIARY!!!! What do I do about this and what if next time it's the anthrax they send me or a dead kitty or a threatening note and a pack of Judge Selma's smokes only they've all been smoked and only the threatening butts arrive in the envelope? Peth, what if it's TERRORISM!? I mean, what color are we on? YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME FIGURE OUT WHAT COLOR IT IS TODAY! Love, Brian."

Shortly thereafter, the following message arrived in my inbox from Red.

Peth tells me that you received the super-secret package we sent to you to make your day a little happier.

Yay!

We certainly hope that this box of bright red gel grip pens enhances your clerking duties and makes all your happinesses just a bit more happy.

Enjoy!

Yer pal,

Red

It seems that Red enlisted the assistance of Peth to track me down and the two of them colluded to send me a present. And I'd been throwing around the word stranger like it meant something!

To both Red and Peth I wish to thank them sincerely for the very thoughtful gift.

As I'm now the proud father of twelve shiny new red Unibal Gel Grips, I thought it only fitting that I name them. So I spent that afternoon making name tags for Will, Sydney, Vaughn, Jack, Francie, Irina, Marshall, Sark, Weiss, Sloane, Dixon, and Rambaldi. I made the name tags using only the various office supplies I could find in the chambers and taped them securely to the ends of the Gel Grips so they flutter when I write like the flag atop the courthouse. At night, I very carefully roll the name tags up and put the pens back in their box.

I like to think my pens are having all kinds of adventures inside there just out of sight.

Posted at 4:31 p.m.

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