Crazy Making Sunday

I don;t this anticipation stuff too well. Good thing I am to old to get pregnant.

Evidently, I sounded so crazed on the phone, the big shot doctor ordered some meds for me...just got the call from RiteAid.
I guess he is not looking forward to this high strung mare in his shooting range, either.

I have some little piddly chores to do...clean out the car, get my toes done, buy some sandals because I just want to. Buy some melons because I have a sincere need to eat some.

Oh, I a merry little mess but just for a little while.

I did put a ban on both MONK and HOUSE...just too crazy making. So I'm spending a cheery afternoon watching The Sopranos. Something about all the unnecessary violence calms me down.

Monday is BAN day for me. Make it swift!

Got a call form my big shot (literally) doctor.

I go to UC/SF on Monday (4 hour drive one way) to get TWO BAN shots
in my greater occipital nerve bundles.

Don't eat after six am (never a good sign....sounds like it is going to hurt). Make sure I have a driver (oh, yetanother bad sign). They will have pain meds to give me (as in a shot, as opposed to pills that I would be throwing up).

Did I have any questions?
BOY, DO I!!

Am I going to have to even look at the needle? (NO)
Does he have narcotics in this little anxiety cocktail he is planning on shooting me up with? (YES)

And will it be in my hiney or vein? That gives me a good idea of how bad this thing is going to be. (Vein. Badbadbadbad). Saline IV...yes, but the drug will actually be pushed. (Badbadbad very badbadbad. Very.)

I have a five hour drive home....well, he has a teeny little pill to give me to make the trip comfortable for me. (I am hoping that means I will be unconscious.)

Then he tells me that I will be sitting in sort of a massage chair with my head IN A VISE and he will drug me, then shoot me up with novacaine AND THEN he will be adminitrating the nerve block ON BOTH SIDES OF MY HEAD with a BAN in a fan shape. (Doesn;t that sound like he is going to be taking that needle in and out? It did to me.)

Relax, he says. I've done hundreds of these. It isn;t as bad as Botox.

BOTOX!!!! I've seen that on TV and it looks about as pleasant as giving brith to a full grown COW.

Well, says he, Botox is the next step if this doesn;t work.

So needless to say, I am on the edge of hysteria. I am cleaning my car out tomorrow (it is the kind where you can just hose the whole thing out) because there is enough dinnkity things to do besides think of that BAN.

I grew up on a farm. If anyone knows what a big a$$ed needleooks like, it would be me. ANd I am POSITIVE it is going to be blunt and square, to boot.

Now the upside....no headache. I think I am so hysterical over this that there is no room in my head for the Japanese drummers guys to be pounding away with a screamer in the
background.

Remember when you very first went into labor with your very first baby....right when it got all messy and primal and mammalian? There was no Zen. There was no silence and being
at one with the universe.

That is where I'm at.

So how does your life compare with what you thougtht it would be?

I’m 55. When I was younger—say, 12—here’s where I thought I’d be at 55: Possibly married, but maybe not. Possibly a child, but maybe not. Definitely living in THE CITY– San Francisco, which was the only city I knew.

I’d most definitely be going out to dinner a lot, seeing plays and musicals, going to bookstores late at night. Going out with friends. Working in some imaginary, high-powered job—a fabulous and rewarding career that would afford me the opportunity to wear spike heels every day for the rest of my life. I'd get my nails and hair done weekly and be impossible smart and chic. And by 55, I would have a LOT of money and be respected. People would ask my opinion on VERY IMPORTANT MATTERS.

In fact, I would probably be more famous than Danielle Steele and I would be both rich AND famous and the biggest quandary I would have on a regular basis would be what to wear at the next red carpet event, where (of course) I would graciously be accepting any award I was ever nominated for. (Think Meryl Streep, except more fabulous and chic).

That’s what I imagined for myself. I would definitely be living in a fabulous high rise apartment with no yard and obviously a housekeeper, since none of that housework stuff interested me in the least.

At the time, I lived on a cattle ranch/farm ten miles from the nearest small town. We made our living in agriculture, which has as many ups and downs as a roller coaster. We worked like field hands. Every morning and afternoon were filled with chores that mainly had to do with cows, hay, feeding and cowshit. Acres of cowshit. Weekends were for middling projects---like running cattle for I don't know why or what for. I was at the cutting and prodding end, not the doing end.

School vacations were for bigger chores. Thanksgiving was for picking up any walnuts that escaped the general harvest. That was our Christmas money. Christmas was for working cattle.

Easter was for working in the orchards, pruning and picking fup about 100 acres of cut limbs. Most of summer was pulling weeds and setting irrigation pipes.

August (where it just gets up to about 114) was for harvesting prunes, getting ready to pick cotton, which was followed closely by the walnut harvest.

90 days of o 'dark thirty to dark thirty. If there was any down time, I would lie down in the dirt and take a nap for, oh....five minutes.

I became a teacher and although I wore high heels to work every day to work until I got my present job, the big pressing questions I answered were invariably "When is lunch?" "I miss my moooootttthhhhherrr!" "I need to pee" and "When is recess?" I sincerely doubt that I am remembered by any of my students (maybe one or two....but they don't remember my name).

I live in a little dinky town (it has four freeway exits, compared to my hometown, which STILL has only two). I don't own any heels. I own one dress that is suitable for both weddings and funerals. My favorite shoes are purchased at Rite Aide and are the little grandma tennis shoes.

I teach now in a super max prison with people who, at present, want to whack me up in little pieces. I wear the most boring, nondescript DOWDY clothes I can find because looking attractive just makes these pervs whack off. I can't even wear open toed shoes, since still OTHER pervs will crawl up under my desk and lick my toes. (Eeeeeuuuuwwwww!!)

My children-two-are grown. I like the people they have become.
I have two dogs, who are immensely entertaining.
I have no awards. No housekeeper. I not only keep my own gigantic house, I do all the yardwork on God's little acre because I can't find anyone who can do this even fractionally as well as I can.

I read. I knit. I watch Law and Order. I go to bed every night of my life at 9pm. I iron in the middle of the night when I can't sleep...which is often. I stay in touch with most of my friends via email, since they, too, have no time for midnight runs to a bookstore. (Heck, the closest thing we have to a bookstore here in Dinkytown is WalMart and I would rather poke my eyesout with a magic marker than go there.)

How similar is your life now to how you imagined it twenty years ago? Thirty years ago? Are you exactly where you imagined you’d be? Or are you constantly asking yourself, “How did I get here?” Do you mourn the unrealized plans in your life? Or are you happy no matter what your circumstances?

Back to work Part 1,2 and 3

Well, going back to work opened an entire can of unexpected worms. Before I left, I filed paperwork just like I was supposed to, had it signed just like I was supposed to and turned it in just like I was supposed to.

Once it is typed and reviewed, it gets a log number and I sign it. Being as how this was a big deal person threat, it should have been submitted to the Threat Assessment Team.

None of that happened.
And here is why.

My boss was on vacation, so I had a substitute boss who just signed the report and didn't read it.
I gave it to some officer (just a guy in green...no idea who he is or what color he was.) I bet you a nickel it is either in a pile of paper (it could have been his Friday or his last day before vacation or he was just covering the position.....or he retired....any number of things could have happened to those reports.) And when it gets found, I bet a nickel it will end up in a batch of junk in the shredder ASAP.

And no, I didn't make a copy because I never make copies before the reports are logged and typed. And since my supervisor didn't read it, there was no red light there. I'm not the one who decides if it is a threatening situation...someone else does that. So that didn't happen.....and so on down the line.

And July 1 is the day where all of the job changes go into effect..sort of like the first day of school.
So the guys who were doing job 27 in June might be doing job 18 on July 1.

So after Head Honcho One grills me thirteen times (he was using the little tiny post-its, so there wasn't much of a story...and no, I don't know for positive which guys were planning on slaughtering me....I had just gotten a boatload of new students and these were some of them. After three weeks, the best I could do was guess it was A,B and C because they didn't turn in any work that day.)

H1 is very peeved with me and does his best to make this my fault. (It's not. Stuff happens.) Head Honcho Two tells me that if a guy is going to stick me, he certainly isn't going to TELL me, so in his opinion, not only did I handle it right, it was no big deal in the first place. H2O outranks H1.

So H1 definitely does not want me on the yard because I might be a nut case. (Actually, I think maybe I am a nut case and I caught it at work.) H2O can't see what harm I could possibly do if I just work my morning class and then "find something to do in the afternoon."

So in the meantime.....I'm answering the phone. Checking bubble sheets. Looking for boxes because we are moving over to the dark side...about 2 miles ON FOOT from where the car park is. (And you are right....How serious is an assignment called "Go look for boxes"? You can imagine what that was going to look like.)

I made six copies of the new and improved medical somethings for the six libraries. No real idea what the heck I was doing, but I managed to get part of each section of the thousand plus page project upside down, so I had to go through each set and fix that. Then my boss decided that the dividers needed to be in different colors, so I had to search out where the heck to put them. THEN I had to hole punch them....we have an automatic hole puncher, which in theory sounds good unless one has the attention span of a sieve. In which case one would have to hole punch BOTH sides, opening up the question......well, face it. I am no good at this. An inmate could have had it done in 15 minutes. It took me about three hours.

SO now I have an hour to burn (this is day three of finding something to do, since at my workplace, every day is a new day. We show up like we were dropped off the mother ship five minutes ago.)

I call down to the back of beyond to see if someone will open the gate for me (yep. Just like a cow when she hears the tractor) and hotfoot it (it was 109 because I'm in a concrete alley with big concrete buildings on both sides.)

So I am busily cleaning up whack bubble sheets for a report that is due in Sac on Friday. I have a special eraser and pencil and everything.

Happy, happy, happy. And just for GP, all teachers read directions differently. They read parts of any given memo. And what do you get? GIGO.

So there I am, merrily erasing and in flies Red. She has be redirected to my class and I'm in her non-contact position. She hasn't actually STARTED her job yet; she been getting things organized. And I'm not sure that this is real info, since I'm not getting a phone call from anyone in charge. But if I were running this asylum, that's what I'd do with me. I'm a competent worker...I just have a problem with migraines. Can't fire me. So in this huge machine in which I work, surely there is something I am capable to do. (Besides making copies.)

Now, non-contact positions are great. Lots of paperwork but no real problems. Behind in your work? Show up early and catch it up. Miss a few days? Make sure all your mail outs are done.
Contact positions are more demanding...because you are tied into a really rigid time schedule; you have to keep track of 60 guys (when did they go to the doctor? When did they get back? When did they physically set foot in class?), just in case one of them murders someone and claims it ain't him a'cause he was in school. Well, not at 10:22. At 10:22, you were not in class and you weren't in the clinic. It might be you. It might not.

And you have a ton of reports. plus seat work and testing.....it is a real pain and you have to be really organized. I am. Red's not.

But Red goes to work every day. And that is a good thing because I don't.

But after the BAN in San Francisco on Monday, my attendance might possibly improve. Once upon a time, I had 220 days on the books. I have zero now.....I've had zero since Mr. Celery decided to stalk me.

So the job change is good....I'll get some serious walking in every day just GETTING to the office. I love doing mail outs. I can spend the entire day with my head stuck in the computer and listen to music and make spreadsheets. I have 220 students I never have to see.

I need to get that photoshop program

Two best photos of the Grand Canyon and one of the very vain me.
































It looks better little....when I blew it up, it was quite alarming. I look EXACTLY.LIKE.MY.MOTHER.

I have a gazillion photos off three cameras, but these two are my favorite.

Almost a month ago, I had some problems with my students

And in the last month (I took only 6 actual days off--the rest were pre-planned, school-wide holidays) I have learned that once you are scared out of what wits you have, it is tough coming back.

Now I adore my morning class. They are older, they work like field hands and they trust me. If I tell them it will take them a year to get from point a to point b, they believe me. Clearly, thaey are not part of the "I wanna be a rock star" generation. The successes we share are celebrated by all of us. Each man encourages the other and they work together...drill each other on flash cards, give each other practice spelling tests. It is a great class. One of the best of my career simply because they are old enough to make goals, chop them up in do-able pieces and willing to work toward that goal.

Now my chop 'er up class....I doubt I will be seeing them again. THAT is a mob. Sure there are a few good ones in there, but they are overwhelmed by the bad ones. And I am exhibiting the same nut case behaviors that are appropriate to the threat. Can't sleep. If I do sleep, my dreams are all dangerous. I don;t want to be around people. I'm losing weight (see, there is an upside) because I can't keep food down. (Note to self. Don't be drinking red Crystal Lite. It is simply too alarming.)

Am I scared?
YES.
Do I think these "few" inmates could possibly injure me?
YES.
I believe that even three of them could do some serious damage to me...maybe not kill me because I think that takes about 7 minutes to actually do what they have planned AND hide what is left of me. But the hurting part? Yeah, they have plenty of time to swarm me, overpower me and hurt me. And we don't dicker for hostages here. Once you are in, you are in for the duration. I'm not without training, but it is mainly stay alive long enough to finger the bad guys training. It's not escape training. And believe me, THAT figures greatly in my dreams.

So of course, I looked all this stuff up on the www(world wide waste of time) and what I'm feeling is appropriate for my situation. And as odd as that sounds, it is comforting the know that I'm not singularly nuts. I'm normal nuts.

And going back IS an option. The way it works here is that if I want to leave, too bad, sooo sad you couldn't take the heat. However, if it's the idea of the department? Whole 'nother thing. They can change dates, strong arm my other pension plan to make everything end on the same day and the more I wring my hands, the higher the ante goes.

SO here I sit...sleepless, scary nights, hiving up and just waiting for the nursery to open so I can work in my little yard.

Trust me, this will all unknot and unravel itself. You just can;t be in a big hurry and be yanking on the yarn overmuch. Just patiently fiddle with it and bingo! one day, you have a nice ball of unknotted yarn.

It just takes time.

Chloe on a hot tin roof

I know I have mentioned that it gets hot here.
Really hot.
It is 109 right now.

It's one hundred million thousand degrees in my house and I am not exaggerating. Not even one little bit.

The a/c is on UPSTAIRS, so we can at least sleep and the fans are on downstairs. We can have one or the other, but not both because my house was built in 1888 and has the original windows. Quaint, but not energy efficient. (The hotel? Dual paned. Over insulated. Super roofing insulation so even without the A/C, it is still livable.)

It is supposed to be 111 tomorrow (Thursday) and 114 on Friday.

I turned the heater off on the spa, in an effort to get warm-ish water, as opposed to the pool...which is deep and too cold at the deep end. I bet it is at LEAST 100 degrees cooler in the bottom of the pool that it is on the patio.

But it is good weather for cotton.

The one with the monsoons

We are in Prescott, AZ...visiting family and friends here. (Charlotte from high school is came up ...I haven't seen her for 37 years!)

So here's the thing I've found out. I don't know sticks about geography. Nevada is desert. Texas was not. Arizona is not only NOT like Nevada, it isn't like miles of desert, either. Where we are it smells so much like a Christmas tree lot, it almost smells fake. And it RAINS. POURS. We are on the patio, being totally entertained by the three massive cloudbursts in the last hour. Huge raindrops.

It is Rodeo week here in Prescott. so lots of people. Today, Charlotte came up from Phoenix and we went to Courthouse Square to the art show. Yapped the entire time. Had lunch. Talked non-stop.

She looks just like she did in high school (with red hair) and has a delightful husband and looks so happy. She went to high school with me and was just one of those happy high school girls who worked hard. We were on the newspaper together. She is a seriously good writer and really has put her own life experiences into her pieces. I admire her greatly.

So we are waiting for a break between storms so we can go over to visit my in-laws. We are thinking about baking a cake (Darling's birthday tomorrow). We are taking the train up to the Grand Canyon for the day....okay, it's not sunrise, but I'll be up for it.) There is just something about a sunrise that makes me feel like I haven't managed to screw up THIS day yet that I like.

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!

Lisi was up and at 'em this morning

After a good night's sleep, she was ready to dive back into the fray. She wasn't as scared as she was last night. I have several friends who work in juvenile detention centers and they were just great with suggestions on how to let it just roll off her shoulders.

She has the community academy graduation to attend tonight; she worked on that program for almost a year and wanted to see "her" graduates.

She is working all weekend, so we left early and are here in MB. I bought new towels and a new rug for the bathroom and have spent the afternoon scrubbing down my (real) paneling. I bought some seashore lace curtains and have to shorten them for the kitchen and dining room. I think I'll have enough of the plain lacey part to make a curtain for the outside door. I have a really classy bath towel there now...push pinned up for privacy. Very classy.

I'm going to the shell shop tomorrow and buy some shells to trim out the very plain and ugly bathroom mirror. There are two small medicine cabinets that will get the same treatment.

I'm also stopping by the Cotton Ball to get something to line the linen closet shelves. I have miles of old lace that I'll staple to the fronts. I'll make a newspaper pattern of the door (it has a little support 1 x) and cut foam core and cover it to co-ordinate. Probably some oceany-light blue print.

Dinner is on (grilled oysters and vegetables) and the fog is rolling in.
Nice breeze coming in off the ocean and the doors and windows are flung open. It smells great!

Bad day in jail for Lisi

This is a new job: she was with the PR Department with the local PD-neighborhood watch, programs at the preschools, MacGruff....stuff like that. She was really good at her job and personable and everyone loved her.

Now she works in a juvenile detention center and no one likes her. Well, of course not-they are kids and they're locked up. The food is terrible, somebody is either telling you what to do all day long or watching you do what they ust told you to do. Visits once a week. A lot of structure and direction and discipline.

And they are sometimes put in holding cages because they can't roll with the rules. They don;t much like it and holler and rattle the bars--typical tv prison stuff.

Except today she was working in the central office right across from the cages. The one really tough 12 year old told her and everyone else that he was going to "smoke them on the outs"...shoot them when he got out. He made a little gun hand and pretended to shoot her and scream at her and then pretend to BE her, screaming for her life.

It's easy to tell her that by tomorrow he will have settled down-that this was just a volatile and random outburst. It feels personal, but it's not. I deal with it every day--surrounded by people who hate me, who hate everything I stand for, who hate that I draw breath. It's part of the job.

And it scared her, too....what if he DID track her down? Girlie, I doubt he reads and he probably will be going home to Pixley or Farmersville or Woodville and he probably couldn't FIND the center if he had a map. A lot of people in lockup don't even know where they are when they're locked up.

And she just has to work it out. This is part of the job---for all of us. I'm just glad she has me to talk to.
Because it's scary to have someone threaten to smoke you on the outs.

Cleaning frenzy

Cleaning for me is like somekind of shark attack. The house would be the shark over there and I would be that little bitty silly kayaker 2 miles off shore in deep water.
I was over to Nusan's house the other day and it was immaculate. Of course, no dogs or shoes in the house. And she is a full time SAHM. But it set off a frenzy here--at least THIS time I haven;t had to turn the entire house upside down, which is my favorite way to clean.
Sorta like this: and this:




and this







This morning...all the windows and all the lace curtains washed. (It is 8:26). Gravity draining the pond (good for the flowerbeds). EVEN FIXED BREAKFAST and MADE MY BED.

Leaving at 10:30 for a half day at the spa. Spent yesterday shopping shopping shopping...last time I really went shopping was in January. Lisi drove and we went looking at fabric, books and eneded up at Macy's. While she was trying on jeans, I was nabbed by a makeup consultant....and all I can say is that those 10X mirrors made me look like a hag. So I am hoping an afternoon at the spa will de-haggify me.

Monday I start Weight Watchers. I've put on some weight over the last few years (Ben,work, Mom, Lisi, Coffee Scoop) and I'd like to get it off so that I'm trim when I retire. 440 working days. Not that I'm counting.

Upstairs now to vacuum a little. Whose idea was this white rug? Whose idea was three dogs?

My grandkids are coming out in a month

So I am busy washing curtains and cleaning cupboards, hosing of back porches and at least rescuing the wooden screens that last week's high winds blew off.

I know they don't care about the carpet or the floor for that matter. They just want to see us....but I'll feel better if they see us in a clean house. So Keri, it might not be much, but it'll be clean. The pool is open and the hot tube seats four.

Bring your mending---I have ours caught up. (Whenever we go see Grandma Idell and Grandpa Pierce, I catch up on all her mending and leave her with threaded needles. It's not much and I'm just sittin' around, anyway.)

I have this week off and then the weekend they are coming down starts a 2 week vacation. Random here at the prison. During the vacation, I have a visit to San Francisco to see the Migraine Clinc in Union Square (good-because Lisi and I are going to hit Britex) and a side trip to Santa Cruz to see Teacher Linda, the very suave Ray, Vincent and Olivia. I like taking my baby to visit the people she has heard be chatter about for the last 20 years.

THEN, Ben, Darling and I are going to-surprise- the Grand Canyon. We'll stay in the park and go the sunrise and sunset. It's our anniversary and Lisi has to work. I'm seeing a headache doctor in Sedona. Heck, I'd see anybody who thinks they can fix them.

Here. You can thank me later

http://fs.absolutist.com/flash/bubbles.swf

This is my bubble game.
When I think I'm hungry and I'm really not? This helps.
When I'm worried over never selling my house and spending the rest of my life weeding? This helps.
When I'm worried that if I retire, I will end up sleeping in a cardboard box? This helps.

Rules.
None that I know of. Try to knock off one color if at all possible. Two colors together get knocked out by a third. Try to alternate sides or one will scroll down and boot you off.

Old Friends

Just reading my friend, Marji's blog (http://tangledstring.blogspot.com/) and she is right about long term friendships. I have friends (not as old as she is, but still) that I've know for 25 (Nusan)or 30 (Julie and Ruthie) or 40 (Christie) or 50 years (David and Greg) and it is so comfortable to talk to them. Still fun, still entertaining but they already know my backstory. And because I work where a LOT of people work, I get to spot people I haven;t seen for years. I just saw Ronnie the other day and I think I haven't seen him in four or five years. (I saw Brandy's baby today--four years ago, I was on the way home from the hospital with him.)

Time flies.

Meme from Marji

tag! you're it.

Marji, of Tangles Threads fame, has tagged me for a meme. I am giddy with excitement! Although I have certainly never lived anywhere interesting (one of the questions).I have lived a lot of places.

Here goes. At the end of the post, the player tags 6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blog and leaves a comment, letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you've posted your answer.

1. What was I doing 10 years ago? I was a fixin' to get married. Again. Sometimes I think it was a good idea. Sometimes I think my mother was right-I should never marry and certainly never have children.) Today was one of those days.

2. What are 5 things on my to-do list today -- in no particular order?
Bitch at my daughter-she hurt my feelings and I want to set her car on fire.
Get a Demerol shot (my head hurts. A lot)
Try not to be unnecessarily rude to people who apparently lack the mental capacity of gnats. (Okay, forget the rude part. I am beyond caring right now.)
Cause as much trouble as possible for some people who have stood on my one last nerve with hobnail boots.
Refuse to answer the phone. (I was on it with Dell for 2 hours. I am ready to just pull the plug on the phone.

3. Snacks I enjoy.
Rootbeer
Margarita/rocks with salt. Two please. Right now.Forget dinner.
Rocky Road Ice cream
Cruchy tacos supreme
What ever chocolate candy left in the vending machine over in visiting.

4. Places I've lived.
Porterville, California.
Fresno, California.
Hanford, California
Downey, California
Provo-Orem-Payson-Park City, Utah.
San Francisco, Baja, Mexico (okay only for three months...but that counts!)

5. Things I would do if I was a billionare.
Quit my job.
Pay all my bills.
Move to Ireland.
Buy a house in Bandon, Oregon.
Never go shopping again. Ever.
Send some money to my sister and never have to deal with her again.
Quit trying to make nice with people who get all mad at me for fun. Go be prickly with someone else.

6. Peeps I want to know more about:
Rachel; Lala; Inky; Brenna; Marji; Heidi; Kimmie; Pat; Paulie

Ruthie's sweater for baby Jack is almost done.

He is one long lanky baby, so the sweater is 4 inches too short. Figured I would just graft on a new row of live stiches, merrily knit some ribbing and then cast off in a new, stretchy fininhed edge.
So that is what I did, during training today. And it was one piece of umber nice ribbing. When I finished it tongiht, I held up the sweater to match the seams and shucky darn, if it wasn;t both too short AND too narrow. No matter. NOw that I have a clue as to what went wrong (don't do it like that again) I can painlessly rip it out and re-do it. It's only ribbing. And I'd rather mess up 100 stiched of some damn fine but essestially wrong footed ribbing for BaBy Jack, of the adorable Ruthie than something important like...well, I'm not sure. At this juncture, nothing is more important than my baby Jack.

Girlie started work at juvenile hall today

She was in street clothes, going on her walkabout with another officer. They were walking past the classrooms and the kids, being kids, were doing that little prairie dogs head poppin' outta the room, trying to get a gander at her.

Evidently, one of the boys had something crude to say, so he got capped/written up/put in time out. Since I work with these same kinda guys (only older), I have a pretty good idea what was said.

So, yeah, I told her.

EEEEUUUUWWWWW!

She works second watch now (so do I). And just like me, she is wearing clothes a size too big. No reason to have those pervs gawkin' atchu.

I have to wear closed toe shoes because I have pervs who will crawl under my desk and lick my feet. It is exactly as icky as it sounds.

You can't have everything and e.coli, too

Where would you put it?

That’s my motto as I clean house this week. I’m trying to consolidate to a manageable level of shit lying around the house. Nothing is sacred; I’m being ruthless. Books, clothes, tupperware, and most especially the piles and piles of magazines- all boxed up and ready for donation. And how many car catalogs does one man need? Sheesh. The yarn catalogs, well those are totally useful. But there are only so many ways to show the same tool over and over, right?

I got these totally geeky battery operated scrubby thing to go along with my steamer, since I have a preternatural aversion to e. coli and h. pilori. Did you know that NOT making you bed kills off the dust mite carcasses and fecal material? And you need to spray your mop/broom/vacuum cleaner sucker upper with alcohol so the e.coli doesn't multiply exponentially? All that cleaning is just moving multiplying bacterial colonies around so they can just multiply. I am starting to think that using the wipes at the market for my cart isn;t such a bad idea. (Grocery carts are germier than toilets.) And forget about wearing your outside shoes into the house. And as for putting your handbag on the floor---sheesh, do you know what kind of germs ther ARE at a prison?

Except the yarn. That goes without saying. No such thing as too much yarn. And- BONUS!- the more stuff I get rid of, the more room I’ve got for yarn! I bought a new coffee table that has two basket drawers in it (yard sale find). Two flat baskets filled with yarn fit right under it.

Lisi moved down the hall (which makes my house sound so vast and Victorian..."dowwwwwn the hallllllll"). She put all of her boxed junk in her old bedroom (which was right next to mine, so I could check on her when she was little). So now, I have a new junk room, except the junk is all tidy, instead of just being tossed in the door.

She is planning on moving closer to work, maybe in July. She started her new job with the county jail today....she was hoping to be posted in the juvenile jail (and I had SUCh reservations over that), so when she called to tell me she had been posted at the boot camp, I was totally "yip yip your-aye!" since IMO, 4 weeks of training isn't enough. Juveniles are only slightly less ooky that the adult offenders I work with---and only because they haven't worked the system yet. But (and again IMO, which is somewhat jaded), inmates are INMATES. You can't trust 'em. They are naughty, violent, volatile and just plain ooky.

So she is posted at the boot camp, which is like an adult SNY yard---it is a priviledge to be placed there so they are usually easy to handle. Even when you are learning to be a teacher, it takes a while to get that teacher/mom/in charge voice. You know the one..."You! There! Stop that/Put that back/knock it off" and the miscreant does. It is sort of like making Tank sit down. He will for me and I don't even have to get all alpha dog with him. He will for Lisi is he feels like it.

She has to get to the point where the inmates AND Tank does what she says because she said it.

Totally possible to learn. I did. Most everyone I know learned. She'll learn, too.

Girlie has a new (tough) job

She did two years as a PR officer with the local police department. Then she applied with the county jail system and starts tomorrow with the orientation at the courthouse. I'm not sure how long that will be or even how much training she is going to have...but once she starts, she'll be having direct contact with inmates.

I KNOW what she is walking into---juveniles are just as bad as adult offenders. The men I work with are immature, violent, ignorant and difficult. They are manipulative and not in a good way. At least she talks to me and has listened to my many stories over the last 9 years.

I have good streaks and then I have terrible spots. Right now, I have a class filled with men who claim they have high school diplomas. Maybe they do. I still have to give them a reading test---and one thing they DO NOT want to do is to take a reading test and have me and everyone else know that they can't read.

I have one fella--I'll call him Grill-- who has tried multiple methods to intimidate me. First day, he shows up and wants some information for his "friend", who doesn;t want to go to school. The next day, he shows up but refuses to give me his ID, so I throw him out and give him an "A" day. The third day, he refuses to sign a job description. I throw him out, again. Fourth day, he is co-operative. Fifth day, he wants to be able to come and go out of the classroom without the benefit of a hall pass. As you can imagine, that doesn't fly with me. He tells me to go ahead and write him up--he doesn't care. Except when I AM writing him up, he throws a fit, since he feels he had a real reason to be out in the hall. (He was trying to calm down another student. Maybe. Maybe not.) But now that I've thought about it, I am still going to write him up. It can't hurt to have paper on this guy.

I just keep hoping that her guys won't be as bad, just because they haven't been in the system as long.

Happy Mother's Day to You

I have my two home with me this weekend. Boy-o is cooking this morning after we dash out to the market. Yesterday was Girlie's last day with the PD; tomorrow she starts a new job with county corrections.

While Boy-o does the brunch stuff, I'll hose of the back and front porches and clean up the pool house bathroom. Really not a lot of WORK, just chores that always need to be tended to. (During the summer, we have a trail blazed from the back door to the
pool to the jacuzzi and if a chore isn't on the trail, it gets overlooked.) I even got a phone call from Micheal and Ash, on their way to Ogden!

Menu for brunch:
French toast (he uses egg yolks, brown
sugar and cream to soak the cinnamon bread in)
Omelets in a bag (one egg, three yolks
whirred up. Pick a quarter cup of bacon, sausage, scallions, colored bell peppers, cheese--more than a quarter cut and it doesn't cook up right). Pour your omelette into a zip lock bag and boil it for 13 minutes. Perfection.
Bacon wrapped figs (dried mission figs,
wrapped with a half slice of bacon. Yum).
Mexican Flags--Basil-grape
tomatoes-quarters of motzarella balls on a skewer, dizzled with vinaigrette.
(Pomegranate in this case) Yummers.

Then we sit outside, watch the fish in a clean pond (monumental job), watch the dogs play and eat and talk in the sunshine. Talk about the roses, which are overblown (just the way I like them) and about ready to drop. The entire contents of the fish pond has watered them for the last few weeks, so ofter these blooms drop, there will be more.) The photos looks so lovely because it is early yet and still cool.
There are worse ways to spend a Sunday!

I tried hard, hard, very hard to get a hair appointment AND get my nails done yesterday. Everyone had taken the day off--so I took that as a sign from God that I looked good enough.

So Happy Mother's Day to my mothers- Inez and Idell;daughters- Lisi, Julie and Keri, my grand daughter Ash and my sister and friends- Judy, Pat, Charlie, 'Nusan, Tia, Marji, Shawnie, Kimmie, Cher, Paulie and all.

I hope you have one of those easy family "things" and as I eternally told my two-"No fighting, no biting!"

I am not in Petaluma with the Harlot

Poor,poor me. Poor Marji.

I didn't even know the Harlot was coming.I thought she was home with Mr. Washy until the middle of the month. I just happened to be reading her blog and she was flying to the Bay Area.

So we missed it. And here it was-payday weekend.
Maybe it was like yarn kharma---we have been unfaithful to our stash and this is what we get.
Here is a vid about the inner yarn harlot

I have a black book

It is neither little or black---that is just what I call it. I keep it by my chair, as I have for, oh, the last 35 years. This is the fourth one I have had and it is dark purple, like Welch's grape juice. However, the original one was black, so that is what I call it.

It has a calendar page for each week--at the end of each year, I staple last year's calendar together and put in my file. You know, just in case Perry Mason asks me what i was doing on....May 24th 1972. (Working at Robert's Farms, packing early peaches and apricots. Babcock's and Satsuma's. It was a Wednesday.) How much did I pay for electricity in 1989? Which month? When did Rocket get her shots? What was that place in Idaho with the gorgeous lake? ("I"-Redfish Lake, Stanley, ID).

It is also my address book. This isn't just any old address book, it is the ADDRESS BOOK. Everything is in there "with the exception," as my friend, Kim would say, "of the last novel by Dickens."

Phone numbers and addresses are only part of the the complexity. I have birthdays (under "B"), all things medical? Under D, for doctor. Insurance numbers? "I". Every college I have ever gotten even 1/8th of a credit for? "T", for transcripts.

My college room mates? (U for byU). I have every juice contact at work, along with fax numbers at work under "W", of course. I work for the government in a fairly high security place. However, the extensions are sequential. So if I know where your office is, I can figure out your phone number. And the password to your computer. Well, if I know who all used to be in that office.

And in general, every contact I have ever made--because you never know when you are going to have to track down Gwen, who used to be my secretary, before she went to work at the regional comptroller's office (where our checks are generated). From there, she went over to the hospital. No idea what she does there, but when I wanted to find out when our retro checks were coming? I called her and then she called a couple of people who called a couple of people. And now I know. (Monday or Tuesday).

It is also a good source for getting the straight information on any gossip I hear.I just call up someone who is close to the source. It makes me feel like 99. (You know, 99. Barbara Felding? Get Smart? I just recently even got that the Get Smart meant get Martin Smart).

I have lost it ONCE in my life. I had just returned from three weeks in Ireland and took the airport bus from LAX to Bakersfield. I left it On.The.Bus.

Frantic hysteria. I had the entire O'Leary/Doherty/Behan contact information in there. Addresses, phone numbers, children's names and ages. Directions. Yarn shops. Places to eat. This was...well, it was devastating!

I called the airport bus place and drove right back, the minute I got home. (Pre cell phone days). I had just finished a 28 hour trip and I added 2 extra hours onto it, just in case someone mistook my black book for junk.

Before I got married, I kept the names of all the guys I was dating ("G" for guys)--along with their phone number, any tidbits of information about them so when they inevitably called in the middle of the night, I would instantly "remember" their dog's name and ask about Hamlet or Othello or some little piece of info he had mentioned "Did you get those new tires?" Of course, when it didn't work out, I would scribble out their names/info with several colors of ink pen and then Magic Marker them out of my life. I still say, "I will Magic Marker you out of my life" to people who get on my totally wrong side. They have no idea what I am talking about.

I used to drag it around in my handbag/tote but because of where I work, I decided I would just keep it at home, by the phone. I have a little calendar/address book I keep in my handbag and it has ONLY the numbers I would need in a work emergency. And my calendar. Everything gets transferred to my black book every night. I have little post-its to tag appointments.

I have a PDA but it is too much like texting. Too much trouble. Plus it has to be plugged into my computer and everything shared up. Plus I can't take it into work with me, so it is just one thing that is one thing too many.

And I like to be able to just write a note on my hand (my palm pilot) and get the information into my book, where it won't evaporate because it needs to get saved or charged.

Feral Felons

My morning class has been with me since last August. It took a little rompe cabezas (breaking heads) for the the get that I like things a certain way, but by now, we are motoring along just fine.
Except for the occasional skipping-of-class, I have to do very few write-ups. Once (last August), I had a terrible time getting them to stop swearing, so I threw them all out of class and had them capped (confined to quarters) for a three day weekend. I've never had a problem since, except for the occasional new guy.

So today I started out with a whole new afternoon class (not exactly whole....a little more than half of them are locked down). I give my little speech about how I like things done, when the breaks are, what I expect. I mention that if they have a medical pass that makes them late to class that I need to have it signed and time stamped. I mention that we have computers and computerized hand held learning tutors. I mention, too, that I don't like it to be noisy, I like them to all be on task and I don't like swearing, cursing, bad language or cussing. Any questions?

Well, just one. ONE. Since I don't have any chalkboards, how do I think I am going to teach? (I have been teaching longer than anyone has been in PRISON. How do I THINK I am going to teach? Do you ask a shark how it THINKS it is going to eat? Silly felon.)

I do an old fashioned five finger reading test. I have leveled book excerpts and if they miss five words, it is too hard. Three words and it is the instructional level; 2 or fewer mistakes? Leisure reading.

I have an easy math test on one of my computer programs; it generates problems from 3rd to 9th grade. Since it is generated on my computer, I can make a different version for each student. I highly doubt they will actually be able to guess the correct answers. And since it is generated individually, I can easily see who my cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eaters are.

Then I have them write a three paragraph essay about themselves so I can see if they are having problems with punctuation/grammar.
Easy, right?

Then when I have them informally placed, I yank out one of the 100 weekly packets and have them work on that, plus the computer,plus the learning tutor.

So in any one class, I can have a first grade reader and someone doing geometry, someone still counting on their fingers and someone reading Harry Potter.

So I am testing and placing, handing out work and suddenly it is recess time.
They all tromp out and 15 minutes later, they all tromp back in.
Three guys sitting thisclose to my desk start swearing up a storm "Hey! I can hear that! Knock it off!"
What I get is all three, turning their heads almost clear around like an owl and looking in feral astonishment at me.

"Remember, I told you I don't want any swearing, cursing, bad language,offensive language, bad words or cussing? I mean it."

"I'm a grown man! You mean you are going to discriminate against me because this is my form of expression?"

Duh, yeah

I repeat my little mantra. My feral student are still stuck in the A's--they are amazed I don't want them swearing/cursing/cussing or using bad or offensive language. WHO am I to decide what words are out of bounds?

Dude-I'm the teacher. This is my room. I make the rules.

So I repeat my mantra.
Feral Boys are still stuck in the A's--they are amazed at this development.

"You have to understand that this here is a pen-i-ten-two-airy. This is the way we talk."
So I repeat my mantra AGAIN, thinking to myself, You cannot scare me. I taught kindergarten. I have children. My mother is Inez Leary. I was married to Jack Bridge.

So Mr. Bemused (they are now stuck in the B's) wants to know what I'm going to do if they just ignore me.

I have been teaching at this prison for EIGHT YEARS. I've worked in the SHU, I've worked EOP, I've taught on the dayroom floor with a guy with a gun watching me. I have worked with serial killers and pedophiles, rapists, assassins and kidnappers.

Does he think that he is the first guy who has asked me this?
Evidently, he does.

"This is my classroom. I run it this way because this is the way I like it. If you don't want to do it my way, feel free to skip class. That way, I can write you up and you can spend the summer in the SHU, instead of in my air conditioned room. If you think I'm going to let you sit under my a/c and my fans and swear, you are muchly mistaken."

Now they have skipped over all the letters in the alphabet and are simply stunned.
"You would send me to the SHU for swearing?"
Yes, yes I would.
"Isn't that going to be a lot of paperwork?"
Not for me. I have a computer. I can print out complaints all day long. Wanna watch?

They are stunned into utter and complete silence.

I have spent almost 35 years doing nothing but teaching feral children how to be civilized.
I have been locked up with 35 5-year-olds for days on end.
This, my friends, is a walk in the park.

Tattoos

I was in the office today, putting some files away. There are two inmate clerks who work there (no idea what they did but it is a Level 4 prison). Xerox guy has "Clara Street" tattooed on his neck. I asked him "Clara Street? Are you from Cudahy?" He looks at me like I had just tasered him--yeah, why? How did I know Cudahy?

I only taught there for ten years. Once they set the city on fire, after the Rodney King verdict, I decided to move out. Too violent, too volatile, too explosive. Once the Popeye's Chicken place is set on fire and the looters are carrying stuff out of the market where I did my shopping? It just sorta wasn't where I wanted to live anymore.

So Xerox Boy looks at me and says"Miss Bridge?" The other clerk, Staple Guy, looks at me and says, "Miss Bridge?" Turns out I had on Xerox Boy in class and my sister in law had the other one. Xerox Boy went on to be in Miss A's class--whom he remembered VIVIDLY. "Miss A, you remember her. She had like, yeah red hair and was real purdy, She wore these really great shoes."

I need to email Miss A. She still teaches in a real school.