One of the things I like about working as a legal secretary is coming across interesting phrases--like the title of this post. For instance, I remember when I was a fairly new secretary, my boss was fond of using the phrase "we'll take the laboring oar" when writing to a client. What it meant was that we would take the lead--and do most of the work--in a case where there were multiple defendants working together. Most of the time, this kind of stuff can't be used in everyday conversation--not without people looking at you funny and talking behind your back. So mostly I hear these things, figure out what they mean, and tuck them away in some gray matter crevasse. Rarely do they even pop to the surface.
Today, though, I kept thinking about the phrase, "you can't unring the bell." Usually that phrase is used in trial to mean that if the jury hears something by accident--some kind of evidence--then even if a judge instructs them to disregard it, it's impossible to take it back; it will always be in the jurors' minds.
By the time you read this, it will be Soccer Son's 30th birthday. I have a little birthday celebration planned that includes lunch and something else that I can't tell you about right now in case he reads this. He was supposed to let me know when he'd be free this week for a couple hours mid-day so we could have this little get together but we didn't get a chance to talk until Tuesday afternoon. By then, he knew he'd be going out of town for the weekend, leaving on Thursday, so he only had a little time free on Wednesday--and probably not enough time for my plans. As he explained, he had a massage scheduled in the morning and sky diving in the afternoon.
Yeah, it's that sky diving thing that "rang the bell" for me.
As far as my little birthday treat goes, we've opted to wait until next week--assuming, that is, he survives sky diving. And I really hate heights; have I told you that? He went sky diving once before; both my kids have. And when I watched the video of that first dive, even though he was sitting right there with me, I was sure he wasn't going to live through it.
So I guess you can see where I'm going with this, right? I'm going to be worried sick until I hear from him later in the day and know he's survived. I think his 30th birthday may be harder on me than that day 30 years ago when I gave birth to him. And I bet I get a couple more gray hairs too! Darn kids! I wish he hadn't told me until it was over.