The one where we take a long weekend at the beach

The air in the Central Valley is all but unbreathable. I'm not sure if the problem is forest fires (I read on the world wide waste of time that there were 1100 fires, but I don;t know if that was in the US, in CA or someplace else.
All I know is that it is so smoky I can't breathe. So we left early this morning and the entire drive just got smokier and smokier...just like we were driving towards the flames. Never saw any of them but the air didn't clear up until we saw the rock, when we were just minutes from the ocean.

Clear as a bell here...nice and cool, but sunny. I have my sprinklers on (did a lot of new planting two weeks ago) and am thinking about going into town (SLO) for some yarn for a sweater for ME for a change and a pedicure. We are going to AZ next week and I always like to buy new sandals and have my toes look nice. Despite the fact I barely will drag a comb through my hair, I like to look as if I do take a modicum of care of myself.

Which reminds me to go get my good earring that are two big to sleep in. I want to wear them on my trip. I like sparkly things and I have SIX bracelets on and two rings. Just a tad over the top.

Maybe.

But only if I get casino rat gold lame sandals with rhinestones. THAT would sent my entire look right over the top. (I have on my levi capris and a white tee....nothing too flashy.)

The one where we go to the headache clinic in SF

We left here at 5 AM. My appointment was for 11 AM. We got there at 10:45. Great directions, just a long way and a lot of traffic.

The two doctors I saw seemed to know what they were talking about and spent about 2 hours with me. Got new meds, which, if they work will help my with my pesky weight problems since one of them will tear up my stomach but stop my headaches and one of them will help my stomach but render me with an intense dislike for the taste, texture and smell of food.

I am now at the point I have always feared--a person who drags bottles of pills around or has bottle of pills conspicuously sitting on my side table. My Da was ill for years and THAT is what I hated the most. All those ugly pill bottles, sitting there as a reminder that something bad wrong was in my house. (I hide mine in a drawer).(With the leopard spotted scissors.)

THEN at the end of July (the 21st), they are going to stick a BIG ASSED NEEDLE into my occipital nerve.

I have no idea what the rest of the actual appointment was like, since I am fixated on the BAN..probably blunt and square and really big bored, too. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on the internet (you know the www? World wide waste of time?)

It doesn't LOOK that horrible--certainly less hideous than say, rotator cuff surgery or childbirth or foot surgery. No mention of pain. But then if you look up childbird, rotator cuff surgery or foot surgery, there is no mention of pain there, either. The articles are written by the people DOING the procedure and I guess they leave out the screaming, the sobbing, gasping and wailing of "Sweet Mother of God! Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus!!" stuff as being non-scientific and extraneous. I know I would.

THe we drove up Divisidero into the Castro, where I have spent many an enchanting evening with frineds who are now gone too soon and forgotten never. It was quite the happy, festive place I remember and I was glad my children had a chance to see it, especially in light of the recent law allowing same sex marriages.

And yes, I'm for ANYTHING that allows people to have the same rights of survivorship, next of kin, health benefits and tax stuff that everyone else enjoys. Why should THEY be exempt from the moments/days/weeks/years of the abject misery of marriage?

I am also pro-choice--I just want people to make BETTER choices and understand that the choices theyDO make will live with them forever, no matter which one it is.

I am also for the Death Penalty. in fact, I"LL DO IT.
Fly me around and I'll do it. I'll pull the switch, drop the gas pellets, hang' em, shoot em...whatever, with the curtains open and have an ice cream at the same time. Would not bother me one bit. PICK ME. Don't make someone do this that it is going to bother.
PICK ME.
I am just sociopathic enough that it wouldn't even make me miss my nap.

Fly me first class though....and wouldn't THAT make for interesting flight chit chat? "So, what do you do?"I'm an executioner. Sorta like Angelina Jolie, except she's an assassin. And taller."

So we wound up at Imagiknits, which was all kinds of wonderful, even if they didn't have what we were looking for. They are on 18th, so of course, we parked on 19th and walked down the 60 degree hill. I thought for a minute there that it might be fun to lay down and just roll to the corner, but 18th is a pretty busy street and I might not stop in time, so I scrapped that idea.

Walking back UP the hill, though! I sounded like an aging train engine, ready to be sold for scrap.

Then we took a little side trip into Palo Alto (and RPO zone-rich people only) and made fun of everyone. then we accidentally found Stanford and made fun of all of them.

Then we drove pretty much the rest of the day, trying to get home before dark. Made it around 8:30.

One long day.

I'm taking some time off work for a while

I work at a prison and after a guy gave me a black eye and another guy I DON'T EVEN KNOW planned to kick the shit out of me for no other reason than he felt like it.

I confess. I was just a tad bit on edge. ANd this is not a gang hit.

I hold no office. I an nothing but a teacher with no power. I can't even get pencils.
My misdeed is that I surround myself with sociopaths ALL DAY LONG.

Last week, (Wednesday at about 1032) I overheard several of my students (not chatting in English) planning to overpower me, rape me orally, anally and vaginally, yank my fingers off my hands, break my neck and then dismember me and hide my body parts in various areas of the the classroom and mop room. This was not a well thought out plan, since I have someone watching me pretty much all day--except THIS day, while he was at the door for several 5 minute periods during the day.

The last woman this happened to had her skull fractured, her jaw broken and was raped untold times. She was out of sight of other OFFICERS for less than seven minutes. Bet you never read about her, did you. If this had happened to me, besides my family, no one would EVER read about this, either. Ever.

So I am mad, scared and just not ready to go back in.
If this makes me a crybaby and you think I'm manipulating the system....YOU GO DO WHAT I DO...day after day after day, YOU listen to the inmates who should have gotten the dealth penalty. YOU respect their rights.

Because, buddy, right now, I can't.

It will take at least a month for MY complaints to wend thier way into a hearing.
AND during that month?
I have no plan to be frightened out of my wits, DAY after DAY after DAY by people who'd like to yank my fingers off my hands.

For no other reason than that they are sociopaths and it doesn't hurt them.

Our Matti is gone

Ben found him in the pool, still warm. We think that he was taking a walk and forgot the pool was there. Ben called us (we were 2 hours away). wrapped him up in his favorite blankets and buried him in shady spot on the hill. We had bought a schnauzer angel several months ago, so except for the crying, it was all taken care of.


Matti at Halloween. He wouldn't wear his little hat. He had a Harley outfit but refused to co-operate with such nonsense. Rocket was a crab and Tank had a pair of sunglasses and a chew toy that made him look like he had big lips. I have no photos, since they were to ashamed to be snapped.

Matt was 20 and a sturdy little mini schnauzer. Mike had rescued him right about the time he had gotten sober. Matti was so tiny, they had him housed with the cats, since he was too small to be in a cage with other dogs. Someone had broken his little heart and Mike and I spent the rest of his little life making sure that that was the only time it was broken.

He had started losing his teeth last year, so I starting cooking for him and hand feeding him. Then he lost both his hearing, his eyesight and developed dogheimers. I had decided that when I could no longer could control his pain, it would time to send him home. I just didn't think it would be today. Every night, I would look at him and think to myself "No, not yet." But I guess God had other places and other plans for my Matti.

So here is the story of the Rainbow Bridge,.,.,.I did not write it but I am sure that it exists. Matti has brought us so much love that I simply cannot imagine a place for me without him in it.
Will Rogers said it best: "If there are no dogs in Heaven,then when I die I want to go where they went."
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills, holes to dig in and shady bushes to nap under for all, so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The hurt in our hearts only serves to remind us of the unconditional love we recieved, day after day after day; no matter what happened at work, on the freeway or at the bank...no matter how good or terrible the day was for us, the highlight of THEIR day was the sound of our steps at the door.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His young, bright eyes are intent; his eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster, ears flying like helicopter wings from his little head.,

You have been spotted and no royalty has ever been greeted with more adoration. Every bark proclaims "She's here! She's here! SHE"S HERE!" and when you and your pet finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
When it is my time, Skipper and Matti will be there wating for me.

THey done got on my one last nerve. I am still not my regular sweet self

,Now I feel better and I'm not quite over it over it.
Going to the nursery again today.,,I need some hummer feeders and two fuschia plants to hang...and I'm bringing back my waterfall in three weeks, It is too hot at home for the moss to survive.

I''m putting down an oyster path in the back (I get to pound them with bricks and make a lot of noise) and then I'm, crawling down the property line, weeding and ripping out all the errant bulbs. Bulbs have no business growing where I can't enjoy them. I have a 100 pound sack of dried bubs and they go in right up against the fence, along with my trumpet vine. (I really do like this digging and toting).

I have to grub under the house and roundup and bleach spray all the vines from the neighbors. I'lll salt the ground down, too. Despite my considerable charm, they could care less that their vines are invading my electrical and plumbing. So....their vines will shrivel right up and die. and they won't know why. I would have been happy to untangle them and let them reweave them in their trellis. They just didn't want to be bothered, (their words exactly. "W don't want to be bothered." Fine, then I"LL be bothered. Once.

I forgot my knitting and my sewing AND all my other handwork, so I'm a little at loose ends, So I guess I'll garden a little. I think that when I go to the nursery, I'll look for some verdisgris spray paint and paint my lizards. They are painted in bright colors right now and you know how hard the sea air is on a painted surface, So I'm thinking of spraying them with just that rust paint and hang them on one of my many wicker shapes.

Next week, it's the grandkids and the pool all weekend and the weekend after that, it's Arizona.
And I have to put up on some bird feeders (not just hummers) becasue I really love to sit outside and watch the birds flit around.

And we have to put in new front steps, too. And while we're at it, I think I'll go up on the roof and spray that down, too.

They tackled the wrong woman.Read at your own risk

After yesterday, today was NOT the day for the lady next door to trot over a 0700 to tell me that she doesn't like my ONE wind chime. No problemo. I will simply move it furthur onto my property, so she can't just reach over and tie it up with a shoestring. And while I'm at it, I'm getting another one of those big Japanese bonging ones.

Then the neighborhood busy body came over (BEFORE COFFEE) to mention that she and the neighbors didn't like that I'd ripped out the ice plant, sprayed it all with Round up and then not planted anything in 2 months. Well fal la effen la, it take that long to kills that ugly ice plant.

But no problemo. I put in $239 OF SUCCULENTS this morning, hosed off the patio and plan to dig big effing la la holes all over. If they didn't like the way I had it before, They will at least be amazed at what I do next. It sort of what genitalia looking plants I can find at the nursery.

Today was not the day to talk to the lady with the black eyes. I was JUST A TAD TOUCHY.

Now Albear's doggy mama? She could have asked me anything, Jump off the roof. Let me get a ladder. Put up new steps to the patio...I can do that RIGHT NOW. And would Albear like a little doggie door so he could nose around my year? Not the least bit of an inmpostiton. I love Albear.

Better than I like a lot of people.
Now Albear's mother is a gentell, French lady, in the truest sense of the work. Albear is this huge white French dog who is is in love with Rocket. Mme spends gentile afternoons watching the dogs frolic and we drink tea and eat little sandwiches and she attempts to reinstate my rusting and horrific French. We knit and sit in the sunshine.
My idea of a good neighbor.

Miss Windchime. No.
Miss Ice plant. Certainly not.
And I am going out for fushia hanging plants and more hummer feeders. Because fa fla f'in la it make me happy.

And today, my own personal happiness is the only thing that matters to me.
I have pepper spray, a taser and it would not bother me the least to use either or both until they run out of juice.

I do have some successes. Just not today

I have four morning guys who are ready for the GED test. I'm pretty sure they will pass, totally.
They aren't so sure, but they trust my judgment. They have come up for 1. something to GED in less thann a year. And it is not my dynamite teaching. It is my belief in THEM.

My old clerk is leaving today for another prison...and because he is on heat meds, I couldn't call him out to say goodbye. His clerk job was the ONLY JOB he'd ever had IN. HIS. LIFE. that didn't involve sucking something. (See how delicate I can be? It is a stretch after today.)

It's my afternoon class. Surprise.
I put together a THIRTY MINUTE packet.
THIRTY MINUTES.

I told them I wanted them to get at least that much work done....we have three hours.The rest of the afternoon was spent writing up reports...oh, I had to confiscate two decks of cards and a domino game, because this is SCHOOL, not the park. Sent these prescious lovies to the LT. They will never see them again, since they weren't supposed to BE in school in the first place. I suspect the had them keistered. I know. EEEuwwww.

The whole idea of being tough is keeping it up
7 of the 14 didn't manage to even bother to pretend to do it. So that's trouble with a capital T.
Wrote them all up. 0ne had the need to tell me "f" you, you b c with legs. You think this winnies is taking orders from you?I'm not going to do this "s "(popular response. From boneheads). Wrong woman to SAY it to.

SO I had ....let's call him Inmate Hall, of the crude, foul and sexually harassing language. COME DIRECTLY TO ME. I asked him quietly to just pack it up and go home. He could sit in his hot cell all weekend and reflect on his choices and see how well they are working for him. No write ups, just a weekend not in front of the TV, since there ARE none available for recalcitrant students.

So he leaves the class and tries to SLAP me. Too bad my reflexes are better than his are and I stepped aside, so he just whacked his hand on the door casing, which just made him VERY mad and loud. There was another wandering inmate in the hallway and he tried to knock me down.I think I broke his nose. SO I had to "activate my alarm" and 50 cops come thundering in and dragged them off to AdSeg, since knocking down and slapping staff is frowned upon.

I know it sounds like I Jackie Chan'd my way through this little altercation but believe me, I got knocked around a little. My real students hit the floor, since that is the only safe place for them. If they get involved, they can get rolled up, too.

I had my favorite officers (who I trust my life with) go with me and my own C/O held my had all the way to the ACH. I got debriefed so my story would line up with what the video shown (this stuff all happened in about 20 seconds..so we are taking bout a quick moments. My officer was at the door, patting guys down and this all happened about as fast as hearing the noise and turning his head to see what the heck was happening. He was on his way, just not fast enough. And 10 seconds is one really fast little happening.

Lucky me, I wasn't really hurt.Banged around but not injured. Black eyes, but who hasn't had those.
SCARED.
We are mic'ed and filmed, so the story is less alleged that that it actually actually happened. DiD I say that we have video and mic'ed stuff?

So I have a mess o'felons all mad at me.
And I have some that I know really will work harder, to prove that they aren't all cut out of the same cloth.

I'm still a tad shook up and but I'm' not going to let this this define me,

I just hope that my heart continues to side with those starfish I through back into the water. I know they, my good inmates ,appreciate the work we are putting together. It's not for nothing you can go fro reaiding on a a first grade level to getting a GED,

I'm not giving up In ten years, this is the first time this has happened, It won't be the last but it wont be me getting scared. I still have about 336 days left on the onliest thing that will stop me is my headaches. Not some silly inmates that I can out think.

We'll talk about it on Monday,,,how I feel, however they feel (betrayed) and what we are going to to with go with the positive and eliminate the negative.

It is a growing experience for me, for sure. I'm one tough bird.

This morning, I feel okay, Nothing a little makeup won't cover up.
I sure wouldn't like to be labeled the sissy that dandelion head took down though. Wouldn't do much for a man's reputation. Especially the guy with the broken nose. He'll have to hange his name to Girl fight Loser.

Ignoranuses.

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Migraines

I talk about this a lot because it happens to me a lot. I was minding my own business, working on my files with my thumb stuck in my eye and I got up to go down the hall. Hit the door frame and ran into the wall twice.

My officer asked me if my head hurt. Well, now that you mention it, yeah. Why do you ask?

It was my thumb jammed into my eye socket that gave me away. And in his sweet and gentle voice, he told me that I probably should go home. If it was my morning guys, they would just quietly work but that afternoon bunch? They would probably bash me on my head, dismember me and leave me for dead. Shoved in pieces in the trashcans. (Seriously. This happens and no one wants to be the one it happens to or the one who is supposed to be watching to make sure it doesn't happen.)

SO I go in for my shots and talk to my doctor about maybe NOT going the narcotic route. Maybe these are bounce back headaches. Maybe I'm a baby. (I'm crying and seeing bright colored spots at this time. The cawing of the crows outside sound like laser beams into my head.)

Nope. He didn't think this was a Tylenol moment. GO home, go to bed. He scheduled another MRI and a CAT just in case, since my head is so problematic. It could be something. Or not. He took blood, too. And none of this stuff hurts, compared to my head.

So I did. And now is it the next day and at 0430, I really thought I'd go in early and catch up. But at 0435, I discovered I couldn't walk a straight line and Darling decided that PERHAPS I wasn't safe to drive and if I got picked up on a 505, he wasn't bailing me out. My head hurts too much to spend three days in jail, so I'm staying home. (A 505 is like a DUI, except you aren't drunk. Isn't being in law enforcement entertaining?)

SO right now, I am going to go cover my head up. I had to stay up long enough to call in.

Girlie goes in for her pepper spray training today. She is so excited to be able to carry it on the job. Between that and the cuffs, she looks like one tough cookie. Wait until she gets her weapon!

Sometimes, I think maybe all my talking makes a difference

I have two classes as different as night and day. The morning guys and I have been together since last August and there is a mutual respect there. Not that we haven't had our rough spots. I've tossed them all up, had them CTQ'd, written "straighten up and fly right" chronos. But now, I'm quite happy with the way they behave.

I talk (and talk and talk) about their own moral compass, their own code of ethics. We talk about what it means to be a man....which is more than just xy chromosomes.
One of my hotheads is really struggling to simply act like an adult. He is very volatile and it is pretty easy to get him to go off like a rocket. However, part of what I do is attempt to walk them through being adult.

So he got a 115 (serious violation) and a young female officer came to class to deliver his paperwork. He bopped over, doing that gang swagger and I glared at him, so he stopped that. She made her little speech because he needed to sign the paperwork to show that he had received the paperwork. And if he refused, I would sign as a witness that he had been served.

So he signed (and I swear, it is like teaching 10 year olds) I said " What do you say?" "Thank you for delivering my paperwork." "And???" "I appreciate it." "Because she is just???" "She is just doing her job." "And that is how a man acts." Then as soon as she left, he ripped it up and I told him that even THAT was how a man acts. A man respects people who are just doing thier jobs" it's paper, not personal.

Then today, he got seved again and the officer was really trying to yank his chain, but he ididn;t spring at it. He was just polite and calm about it. So we talked about THAT and how when you are in custody, there are people (any staff, actually) who like to yank your chain and let you act a fool and get yourself in trouble.

One of my guys goes home in 22 days. Tomorrow we are going over his ed file and I'm writing him a list of what all he has accomplished. He's been in custody since he was 13. This is all he knows. So he is scared and isn't sure what all he has to do and in what order (see your parole officer IMMEDIATELY). He isn;t the brightest bulb, but he loves to do landscape and yard work. I think he talked more about the right way to mow a lawn so it looks barbered than he has talked to me in the last 2 years.

I was testing four guys today and they are thisclose to testing out of class (they have to get a 9.0 in all areas to test out.) However, they plan to stay in my class and work on their GED's. We have essay writing homework every night and this little bunch are getting it. They get looking at a prompt, organizing their thoughts and writing a structured essay. It may not be much to the outside world, but these guys, who have spent a lifetime being stuck on stupid. And this is what makes all of it worth it.

Now my afternoon guys? We are still struggling. And after a two week vacation, most of them are in AdSeg for fighting, so it ISN'T me. It's them. But I have to admit, I do take it personally when it all goes to crap. When it's successful, it's all them. When it's bad, it's all me.

I've got some arranging to do

I go to UC/SF for a few days to have my head checked again, Lisi and Ben are taking me...they are hopping the N Judah to scuttle around town and I am waiting for some icky stuff. Oh, it is always icky, no matter what they do. At least I get to keep my clothes on.
They like to pretend it is painless and clean and Star-Trekky., They lie. THe needles are big and the greatest gift they give e is some Versaid...so it still hurts, but you don't remember.

THis time they are checking the size (bigger a bet) and deciding on whether they can gamma ray it out.

THe high point is Britex and a SF yard shop. I mean, being scared a lot needs fabric and yarn, dont'cha think? I think there is a direct correlation between being scared witless and retail theraoy or what would the point be exactly?

None.
No point at all. Not one.

I am immature and a big baby.,

First thing, just because it really bugs me.
Running more than one house is harder than it looks.
Oh, it looks all ooooh! Ahhh! A house at the beach! A boat! AN RV!! WOW, are you lucky!!!

Then there's the reality of it all.
I have six tubs of butter at the beach; none at home.
Then everything at the boat and beach has to be stored in ziplocks, lest they get all soggy.
And there are some things I can buy here that I can't buy there, so there's that.
(Hey! That is an important point!)

So then every week, I have to do the rotation thing, plus I keep super emergency stuff in my car, just in case we have to leave in the middle of the night; flee, as it were, to Prescott. We get cranky if we don't eat and I've done the Chez Chevron more times than I care to count. At least the stuff I keep in my emergency kit is healthy. (And it has to be rotated, too.)

And then there's the towels and bedding and dishes and crock pots...thank goodness I keep all the traveling stuff in the same colors, or I would lose my mind. I think it would be easier if I wasn't so picky and have the expectation of my life looking a certain way. For one small example...I forgot to take the little kitchen table I bought specifically for the beach, so we had to eat like savages.

All this pickiness just makes me tired...but it is part of my wee charm.

And the other part of my whining?
I think I'll just call Keri. She will get this and save the rest of you from my rantings.
Of which there are many.

I have major problems in my family, too.
Multiple cancers.
Schizophrenia.
Autism.
Alcoholism.
Suicide.
Drug addiction.
Alzheimer's.
Profound deafness
Life stopping anxiety.
An aneurysm in my heart and in my brain.

I've buried my sister and miss her every day of my life.
I had my baby by myself-something no one should be asked to do. Ever.

Just to name a few of them that pop up on the list with great frequency.
But they are just givens. I can't do anything about them except to love the people with them.
I don't pity them, because that is just the hand they were dealt. *Okay...the aneurysms? Scare the heck out of me,. The fixes involve needles and hospitals and a complete loss of autonomy.)
But God knows, I don't worry about them, since that's just the way it is. I'm sure he has some plan, I just hope it is quick and painless for everyone concerned,

This stuff scares me, but then so does my job. I didn't sign up for ANY of this. I signed up for teaching two years of kindergarten, having one faithful husband, two kids and being a PTA mom. Church every Sunday. Play the piano for Sacrament meetings. Bake bread on Tuesdays,

But when that didn't work out for me, I made the best out of what I did have.

I have great kids. Great friends. Great husband. Wonderful brother I can tell anything to.
Super oldest daughter who has a hunky husband and great future adults.
I love to knit. I'm as happy with new sock yarn as I am with diamond earrings.

My favorite saying? "It's not good, it's not bad, it just is."
We don't waste a lot of time weeping and wailing because how useful is that? Tried it and it simply is not productive nor does it make me feel one whit better. Well, except for crying over country western songs on the way to work. I think that is useful.

So the only things I actually whine about are things I have some sort of control over. And the color of my towels and the kind of soup in my cupboard may sound childish, but compared to other chunks of my life, they are important to me.

And Anonymous? As hideous as my problems are, as many thousands of hours I have sat in hospitals, waiting for a cancer surgeon to come talk to me. to wait for an ambulance to take a suicidal teen taken away? Having an orderly drag me off around the corner and tell me to suck it up because all of my weeping and wailing wasn't doing my Da one bit of good and was just the tiniest bit selfish? Being personally scared to death for myself after a particularly painful and invasive procedure? I've earned my life-all of it.

I'll keep my problems. They may not be much, but they belong to the people I love.

Long Weekend in MB

Another bad week-migraine-wise. I am counting down the days to my next appointment in SF and I don;t even care what they find and decide. I just want my life back. Oh, I have good days (yesterday was great; Friday wasn't bad) and bad ones (today feels like an ER day.) I'm looking at my pills and my hype kit and wondering if it is bad enough NOW.

Last week, I oiled down all of my wood paneling (this is a little tiny old cottage with real wood paneling), scrubbed all the floors and cleaned the carpets (as in two). So yesterday, during my burst of energy, I cleaned out all of my cupboards (I use plastic place mats instead of contact paper), alphabetized my cans and then put anything that could possibly soggify in the right-next-to-the-water weather into zip locks. Nothing irks me more than less than crisp Cheerios.

Stopped at The Shell Shop and bought a basket full of shells to ho tglue on the mirrors in the bathroom. That HOT hot glue gun? It is HOT. SO I'm about half done. Had to stick my thumb in a glass of ice water.

Forgot both my lace curtains and my kitchen table, so we are eating like savages. And the market had oysters for $1.89 EACH. How crazy is that? They are 79 cents apiece at home. Which is why I prefer to shop at home, put it on ice and drag them over. Works for me because I love grilled oysters and I'm not paying $1.89 each.

I might clean out the closet--or not. Depends on the rest of the day,

I love this video

Training...we are a rough bunch

We had team building training again, today...because Sacramento thinks that would be a good thing. About $200K worth of good thing.

So we had this great dynamic presenter and for the life of me (and the rest of us), we could not quite get if the stuff he was teaching us was for us in the classroom (Manson? Manson? Party of 12!), for us working with each other (we are so spread out, we never see each other..well, except the five other guys on my yard, We eat lunch together every day AND we walk out together everyday. Unless I'l being pokey and my officer will wait with me because I can;t be in there alone. Bear in mind, I work in a locked building, inside a locked hallway, inside a locked room. Can't be too careful.)

Or maybe he was training us in some whackadoodle way to deal with OUR leadership...in which case, don'tcha think that maybe they should BE in the training with us?

Don't be silly.

This place is just whack. Crazy. I mean, I understand all of the really great principles this guy taught but exactly where am I going to use them?

That would be nowhere. And that would be never.

Carry on.

Last week I got the total and entire inside of the house clean (the little beach house). Tomorrow, I'm going to work on the dining room curtains and the curtain for the back door. Then I'm going to get a second set of rods and monkey with the bedroom curtains. The proportion is off and it makes me feel like the ceiling is just inches over my head.

And I have those vacuum bags for guest bedding and the rest of my shell mirror to finish up.

Oh, I stopped by the fabric store to get some sewing supplies and IT. DOES. NOT. EXIST. I live in a town with no fabric store. I can live the fact that there is no bookstore and no yarn store but FABRIC? Isn't that at least as important as guns?

SO I have my little list of things to get, collect and put together for my long weekend. I have to take over a stack of bricks, too...I'm trying to enlarge my little patio, although in the next year, we are going to put on a glassed and screened porch that will take up almost all of my garden. I'll have the little bit round back and the little bit in the front. Amazing how many little things a person can find to spend time on!

We are going to take the boat out of the water, park it over here and sell it. There are a lot of river rats here and I think it would sell better here. Trying to do it long distance is just one big pain in the neck. We rush over to to show the boat and by the time the buyers get there, it's dark. The next day, they want to sleep in, so half the day is gone, hanging around. Then invariably, they want to see it again on Sunday. Selling anything long distance is one big pain in the neck. Once the boat and Idaho and Florida is all sold, I am done "collecting" properties.

436 more working days

Not that I'm counting.

Maybe you don"t know what I do and maybe you do, because it is a running thread through my entire blog. I work at a non Death Row, level 4 prison. That we are dysfunctional is a given, since we surround ourselves with both sociopaths and psychopaths day in and day out. We have sort of of polygon shaped administrative model...five very unstable and unequal sides with no visable means of support. It just depends on who is hollering the loudest.

There are things I do to amuse myself, just to keep my sanity topped off. My favorite thing to do is to turn on one of my inmates (he has to have just stepped on my one last nerve)and just deliver the most venomousness, viperish tongue lashing possible. The words come hissing out of my mouth and it is truly a show stopper. It's good for maybe 4 entire weeks of good behavior from everyone.

One, because right now, I only have a couple of students who even know I speak Spanish. Two, that's I rip into them so fiendishly.

I've given this a lot of thought and I do believe that when an individual only has xy chomosomes to work with (women have perfectly balanced xx chromosomes) I think they ARE missing something.My time in the Big House only gives me daily proof of this.

Big Mouth Jones (not his name, but appropriate!) is doing his second prison term for murdering a guy who disrespected him. His first term was done for attempted murder on a guy who disrespected him. So to say that he has some anger management problems, along with poor life choices....well, that is putting it lightly.

So BMJ has skipped class 9 times. Each time he skips class, I write him up. He gets really mouthy and cannot control himself, so I toss him out of class---he says some pretty awful things to me. Nothing you wouldn't hear in a high school hallway, but not something I want to hear.

So yesterday, he sits down to have a heart to heart with me, since he still believes I HAVE a heart. Sorry to disappoint, but I do not. I was married to two very bad men and they beat all that nonsense right out of me.

So BMJ patiently explains that we have a personality conflict: I want him to work and he is just waiting to pass the test so the he can score high enough to immediately get out of class. It doesn't work that way.They might get out within 48 hours but it more like somewhere around 3 months (of the ninth ring of Hades). But until then, this is what is going to work. I'll pretend I care about your miserable, misbegotten life and you'll pretend you care about learning to read,. Because the onliest inmates I know that give me a fight about taking a reading test are the ones who CAN. NOT. READ.

So the way I handle it is attempting to run in the morning. Swim 10 laps. Shoot twice a week, Work on a knitting or sewing project because as long as they aren't in you're real life, they aren't in there at all.

This is just a high security job where the people who think a polite good morning and murder are interchangable for an appropriate early morning chit chat.

Highly crazy place.

Hey, YENDOR!

This is the place!