The one where I test and test and test some more

I'm testing all this week. I ducat a bunch guys and test them in visiting....about 30 at a time for an hour. One bunch comes in, goes out and another comes in. It's a 30 minute math test. If they don't show up, I drop them from my program and they get their recess card yanked.

Harsh, but that's the way of the world.

I have about 200 guys on the waiting list and every one of them is just one assignment and one test away from getting dumped. Miss either one and off you go.

I have about the same number of guys in the SHU just dying to get on the list...and it is tough to even get out there to get them tested. So once they are on the list, they make sure that they get their stuff turned in on time and show up so they don't end up with nothing to do. Getting mail every day is pretty much the only entertainment.

This year, I am hoping to get actual GED testing started out there---they test up in Pelican Bay, where the whole place is the SHU and on lockdown all the time. If they can do it, I can't see why we can't. I can teach circles around anyone in Pelican Bay.

With a sack on my head.

On a bad day.

The one where I get out the graph paper and the tape measure

I need a garage at the hotel. And a veranda on the back. And a place to put the elevator. And a place for the hot tub and a place to hang out the laundry.

Time to get out my #2 pencil.

We own the parking lot. I want some kind of secure fencing that magically opens so I don't have to wrestle with gates. It has to be the non-climbing kind, since I also don't want to come face to face with some gang banger smoking dope on my veranda. Razor wire, anyone?

I'm thinking that the elevator can come up from the parking lot and stop at the back veranda and you can come in the back door. There is a little utility hallway there that I was going to use as a mop room, but I could use the laundry room for my one mop, doncha think? How much mopping do you really think I do? (That would be little to none.)

That way, I could have a guest room in the back (which no one will ever use) and a guest room in the front (which no one will ever use). But it sure makes me look like I am a good hostess and what the heck am I going to do with the rooms anyway? Board them up? I already have the beds.

Anyway, I want a hot tub but I wasn't really crazy about putting it practically on Main Street. If I put it on the back veranda, we can put up lattice (it has to be the squared kind, not the diamond kind) and REALLY have some privacy...not only for the hot tub but also for the laundry on the line and the other untidiness of life. Ooh, maybe I can figure out a trash chute so I never ever have to take out the trash again.

The elevator is in pieces. We bought it from a department store in Maine and had it shipped out. We have pictures of it being taken apart and all the pieces are numbered. I'm pretty sure Mike can get it back together. Sarah's husband is an elevator guy; so is his Dad. They can help. So I'm pretty confident I won't be falling to my death. And it is only two stories. How far is that, anyway? The pulleys and stuff go on top of the shaft, so it's not like we have to excavate a big hole or anything.

A Red Door for Ben

Ben's house is almost done ...the fireplace gets the finishing touches tomorrow; the shower door goes in; the washer/dryer/fridge gets delivered on Saturday: the final part of the new fence goes up tomorrow morning; the certificate of occupancy gets signed off tomorrow afternoon and he starts the big mooove on Saturday.

And it's paid for as of today.

The doctor's told me that if we could get him to 24, he would be safe. And now that he's 24, he has a house, so that he isn't at the mercy of a landlord. Tank is moving in with him, so he has both a buddy and a watchdog--something those two cats just couldn't manage to be. They are moving in with me, Mike and Rocket. Can't wait to see how THAT is going to turn out. Rocket hates Jackie, so I don't imagine that she is going to be thrilled with Big Head and Baby, nor they with her.

Lisi wrecked her car....well, some unlicensed, uninsured jump-out-the-car-and-run-dude in Dinuba ran into her. The car was insured, but she has a $500 deductible. Lesson #35: always have $500 in the bank if you have a $500 deductible so you can bail your car out of car jail. Just sayin'. Even if it's not your fault. Which it wasn't.

I had this week off and managed to pretty much do nothing except pay bills and drain the koi pond. It is amazing how gunky it gets and how long it takes, even now that I actually have a plan that works. I have a sump pump that drains most of it onto the yard and various flower beds---I have to set a timer and drag the hose all over the yard. Then when it gets down to the bottom, say the last three days of this, I have to put a hose in it to keep washing the gunk into the pump and not end up with a gunk only mess for the fish to be gasping their last in. The last day finds me sitting on the edge of the pond, book in hand with the hose and the broom trying the get the green stuff out and the clean water in, but not at such at crazed rate that my fish drop dead. I've gotten pretty good at it.

I have some pots at the waters edge that I'm going to put some pond plants in this spring. Another project is to get the filter going and put mint in pots in there, on top of the rocks. I'm wrapping the filter in bamboo and putting some ivy or something in baskets this year. The plastic is just to temporary looking. Time for a little change. I have some stone statues and a stone bench I'm going to drag down from the hill and put down by the pond.

The weather is starting to cool off a little, so I am a little more energetic as far as yard work goes. During the really hot summer I am totally useless. It is just no fun for me. Late summer, fall, winter, spring....I'm your girl. Summer? 107? Forget it. That garden better be on life support.

I'll go pick stuff because....well, it would be a sin not to. And it is better than getting into a hot car after work and going to the store, walking up and down the aisles, getting back into a hot car and driving home.

Because God forbid, I go home and then go out. Why? Because I spend ENOUGH time with people and once I am unleashed, I don't want to see anybody anymore. I love my kids. I love my friends. I just don't want to see anybody. That is why I live out in the country. (That is why Marji lives out in the FAR country and I need directions every time I go see her).

Like I do not have enough to worry about

My daughter comes from a short line of risk takers.
Me.
My philosophy has pretty well been why participate in a sport if there isn't a really high percentage risk factor that you will break something. Or maybe kill yourself. Or get eaten. Like:
swimming with sharks
Sticking your hand in holes
jumping off cliffs
rappelling off cliffs
skiing down slopes that are obviously beyond your skilll level
hang gliding
or my favorite-going on a road trip with no map and only the vaguest idea of where you are going (like, oh Central America-ish)
and other dangerous crap I have forgotten.

So Lisi (who is a cop) tells me in that bye the bye manner of a person JUST LIKE ME that last weekend she went cliff diving.
WTF?
Cliff diving?
You can break your neck doing stuff like that.
Did she check to see how deep it was?
Nope. It looked deep enough.
Other people were doing it.
It looked both scary AND fun. She forgot the break your neck and be a para/quadrplegic for the rest of your life part. It probably slipped her mind. If it had even CROSSED it.

Well, I know that feeling. I have it every day at work, when I trot out to see the new generation of Hannibal Lectors.

Rock on, Lisi. Enjoy it now because one day, it might possibly catch up with you. Or not. Depends. Then you will look at stuff, oh, say men's gymnastics on the the rings and think to yourself "Man! That looks rough on a rotator cuff!" Or watch the girls go flying thru the air, only to whomp on the mat with their teeny tiny ankles and think "Man, that is going to hurt one day."

Gravity and mortality.
Quite a heavy burden to drag around.
I think I need some Butterfingers to get me through this.
A great big box of them and I am going to hide them at work.

Because sometimes that is the only thing that helps.

The one where I meet my clerks

They are both stone killers for hire with parole dates 70 years from now. Very good with paper and very organized. My yard office is miked and has a camera- a first for me, which just serves as a reminder that these guys need to be watched and closely.

I have a main office where I spend part of the time, where my computer and high volume copier is. I do all the copy work myself, so I know that no one is doing unauthorized copies for inmates out on the yard.

The clerks and I work on grading and stuffing mail outs in the office located on the yard, where I have a classroom so I can test and tutor guys on the yard. All my students have jobs, so they have to fit me in during the day. Some of them work out in the dairy or in the Prison Industries, so I try to pick them up after their shift.

I go out to the SHU once a week and test there. I hate going to the SHU. The guys are one step past Hannibal Lector and just give me the creeps. The upside of the SHU is that since I am pure entertainment, they are usually very good and respectful-because if they scare me, I won't call them back out.

I'm working on a new program called GED Express, which is self paced, self taught and takes about six month to complete. If a student honestly works it, they can pass the GED test. If they just fool around....well, it gives them something to do, I guess.

Look what I found over at Shrinky Inky's

You can tell when I am stuck in my knitting.

you are turquoise #40E0D0

Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well. Your saturation level is higher than average - You know what you want, but sometimes know not to tell everyone. You value accomplishments and know you can get the job done, so don't be afraid to run out and make things happen. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

The one where my prison is on MSNBC

They were at CSP-Corcoran for what seemed like months, but I guess they were only there for about five weeks. My personal opinion was that they had story lines in place and just needed to find inmates that fit, to make good television.

This first installment of a six part series is called Corcoran: Extended Stay: Love and Hate

Yep. It is violent, just like it shows. We search all the time. Inmates sometimes don't identify assailants because they don't KNOW the assailant. Of course, prison politics being what they are, if they do know the attacker, they aren't going to rat him out. However, watching the way the races interact is exactly what we do...even in the classroom. We watch for body language and we watch for individual "tells". I like to think I can spot a liar because I can see the flash of a tell, no matter how good they are, mainly because most inmates underestimate me.

SNY is commonly called the Sensitive Needs Yard, but it is a Security Needs Yard. The inmates assigned to this yard are gay, convicted of skin crimes or jumped out of a gang. Oddly, EVERY SINGLE ONE of them will say that they are gang drop outs. Baloney. (And I've never heard a gang called a "car". Ever.)

THE HOLE. We call the SHU and AdSeg the hole. both of them are 23/7 lockdown. AdSeg is a little less severe with less time--sort of a time out while we sort things out. The SHU...well you get a SHU term. Freddie Wanted Dead or Alive (a former kinder of mine) has done a number of SHU terms. So has Hismael (not his real name). They get sent to the SHU for being bad bad very bad.

IGI...Garcia was my BEST training cop!I worked with him for maybe three straight years. I still can call him and ask him anything. IGI is always busy checking, searching, listening,reading. I can tell you that if ANY inmate says "to tell you the truth" or "honestly" is probably lying.

FYI, I worked on the dayroom floor on a different yard for a year. I really liked it but it was also much more of a security issue. You can see how wide open it is.

The one where I put my computer together

Why do computers have so many cords? Why is it possible for me to put every single one of the cords in every conceivable way but the right way? Rhetorical, since there is only one way for a phone charger to fit into the cell phone. It always takes me two tries to get it to fit. Okay, sometimes three.

So I am trying to hook up my computer and I know for a fact I have all the cords, since I'm the one who took it apart and taped all the cords to the printer, which brings up yet ANOTHER question. WHY is my printer so huge?

So I finally get all the cords except one connected (one disappeared. I hope it's not vital.) Then I have to crawl under my desk and find the plug for the surge protector to go in. So I am lying there on the dirty floor and thinking about people on a chatboard I frequent who often mention about how teachers do no manual labor. I have just moved hundreds of boxes that I packed. I have moved hundreds of pieces of furniture. I've loaded trucks. I've off loaded trucks. And that's just HERE.

So I'm lying there wondering how long I could lie there before someone noticed me. All day probably. And the floor is filthy. When Oscar Madison gets her junk put away, I am going to have Hismael (NHRN) and Freddie Wanted Dead or Alive strip it and wax it. This new office area is altogether far too dirty to not be a barn.

The one where I have to share an office

I haven't shared an office for oh, maybe 35 years. Maybe longer. But I'm finding that I don't much like it.
I like my work space a certain way. Tidy, clean. Mainly tidy.
My office mate?
Not so much.
I have TWO boxes.
She has EIGHTY.

EIGHTY.

None of them are put away.
She has an equal pile of junk that isn't even contained in boxes (we ran out).

I am so not happy.

However, if you just happen to mosey past my office, you only see my little bit of it.
Not the mess.

I feel like the Odd part of the Odd Couple.

They don't call Topamax Dopamax for nothing

I am not a fan of Topomax, mainly because it can make a person stupid. I've tried it a LOT of times and it has made me really stupid. Really fast.

I did mention, oh....about 50 times that it makes me really stupid and my doctor, Dr. Big Shot told me I'd be dandy if I just started slow and low.

I've heard that before and from more guys than just him.

Doctors for some reason think maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. I mention it REALLY strongly and they always say oh, whoever prescribed it didn't start me off low and slow enough. Believe me, any lower and slower, I wouldn't be talking it at all. I'd be taking it next week.

So I started low and slow...just like he told me to and this morning I got lost on the way to work.

I turned right instead of left and ended up on 13th instead of 10 1/2. (There are no signs out in the back of beyond. You just have know how to get to where you are going.)

So I had NO idea where I was. No idea where I came from either (told you this stuff makes you stupid).

I managed to get back on the road I was on (it doesn't have a name, either) and thought to myself, "Ogden. I'm going to Ogden." (I am nowhere NEAR Ogden.)

As I'm going past the big barn off the road, I know I'm supposed to turn where the Budweiser sign used to be seven years ago but out here in Boswell-land, there are no signs, no street names and the only landmarks are crops and it is harvest time right now, so the hay bales that were in the fields yesterday are gone today.

There are two huge prisons out here and I'm not real sure at this point which one I'm supposed to go. No worries!

I'll go to eenie meanie mine-y-mo and pick this one. If I'm wrong, they won't let me in and then somebody in charge will look at my badge and figure out where the heck I'm supposed to be and call them up to fetch me.

No worries.

Oh, I eventually sorted it all out. I picked the right one. When I got into the check in, they let me in. I recognized the door to my office. We were moving, so it was all topsie turvy anyway. I spent most of the day watching inmates strip the floors and move stuff. It was sort of like grown up recess.

My new office isn't ready yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or not. I only have a desktop and a box and I'm not even real sure what my new job even is.

Probably pretty apt, doncha think?

How a BAD THING can be a very good thing indeed

My son has autism and schizophrenia. It is a long, involved and mainly scarey story that is mostly in the distant past. He is fine now. Well, SSI fine.
He has his issues.
He volunteers at the local mental health center 40 hours a week and at the end of the week is pretty much peopled out. Mike and I are in high people careers, so we understand exactly how he feels. That's why we leave town on the weekends and don;t even leave the yard.

When we are gone, Ben goes over to our house and in exchange for the cable and the a/c and the computer, he cleans up the kitchen, puts away the laundry, remakes my bed (I manage to get the laundry DONE, folded/sorted/hung...just not put away). He cleans up the counters and vacuumns. Makes sure the dogs have water. Watches tv. Surfs the internet. It is a good trade for all of us.
I leave food in the fridge and he makes sure that it is all cleaned out by the time I get home on Sunday, so when I take him home, I can stop at the market for the week.

Works for all of us.

Weekend at the frog pond

The nice thing about knitting so slowly is that the skill set kicks in and I actually DO learn something. I've figured out the 9 million mistakes I made on the back of this sweater I'm making my husband, so I'm ripping the entire back out, clear back to the ribbing and trying a new tack. The pattern I'm using (in the most casual sense of the word) is one I've made up myself.

The actual goal of knitting is to make the garment fit the wearer...instead of the other way around.
And knitting is really simple math (counting), two sticks and some string, I would THINK that since I have an MA in Math (la di dah...don't get too impressed..no one at the bank is, which tells you about my counting ability), I could manage this.

Of course, I have a deep seated problem with doing that gauge/swatch stuff AND counting (it will take me maybe six weeks to accurately cast on anything).

So I've taken measurements of several sweaters that he likes, plus the shirt pattern that I drafted, plus the sweatshirts he likes....figured out the commonality of the measurements and drew up a schematic. Most people are not symmetrical and Mike is no exception. That little detail gets taken care of by increasing in mid fabric to seamlessly and all but invisibly tend to that. It's the opposite of darts in sewing, if that makes sense.

Lisi has the opposite problem...petite and multiple darts. Lots of invisible ribbing, with skinny yarns, so the ribbing is even less apparent..

I am DELETING bookmarks at 0200

I bookmark everything that catches my interest in the least.

Then of course, I either never go back and look at it, can;t find it or if I do find it, can;t for the life of me understand what possessed me to bookmark it.

So I am purging in a big way. A bookmark absolutely has to make the cut (as in NOT being part of the world wide waste of time). A new favorite is PIONEER WOMAN....she does photo shop stuff, which of course would be cause for me to have my head stuck in the computer because I actually would be learning a skill set.

Skill set. New catch phrase at the prison. Not to be confused with skill saw.

I finally found out from Bobby the Bug Guy why all these moves are taking place (during the absolutely hottest part of the 9th ring of hell). The departments are far flung. Supervisors can't keep an eye on us. Well, duh. That's why I liked working out behind work change. EVERYONE left me alone. Now that we are making an obscene amount of money, Sacramento wants to make sure that someone is watching me all day long to make sure they are getting their money's worth.

Probably not. Or maybe. Depends on whether we have air conditioning. The A/C units we have right now look like something on Serenity, with the cool air coming out of these big dryer ducts. By big, I mean big enough for me to stick my whole head in and gasp in the cold air. I guess you had to be there. I looked like I was freebasing at Richard Pryor's house. And if you have to ask, you are just too young to know.

Now I will be in the back of beyond, but in the Borg. I guess Glenda and I will have to make a cute sign that says
Glenda.....In...Out....Out and About on 3A/3B/3C/SHU/PHU/ACH/LEV 1/Admin/Litagations
Chloe.......In...Out

Glenda gets out more than I do.

I have a TON of GED packets that I want to scan (I have yet to figure out this scanning skill set) so that it is in my computer and I can just conjure up a set, instead of frantically attempting to FIND the last set known to man. I do have 30 tutors who have to have timecards turned in every month (two different kinds...I don't know). That is the bulk of my job. I have a clerk who is doing three 35 year terms for murder. He was a paid assassin. Not near as cool as Mr. and Mrs. Smith or even Gross Point Blank. Because of course, this was REAL LIFE, as opposed to the movies.

Union meeting last night and no, I didn;t go. They are a bunch of holering screamers and I figure i FUND them....I don;t have to listen to them. O'Dd was there and was pontificating this morning about people who expect the union to represent them but are unwilling to support the union.

Up goes the finger.
"Do not EVER attempt to tell ME how I am to spend MY evenings. I pay dearly for the union. And if I could,instead, send it to Dakfur Charities, I would. I went out on strike for THREE WEEKS with a baby on my hip. So do not EVER attempt to tell me how I am supposed to aupport my union. I think at $160/month.....that is support enough."
O'Ddd was speechless and whirled out.

I will probably catch hell for it at some point. Like I care.
I got written up (first time in eight years) over ONE cell in my report. Actaully 2 cells. I had charged off some missing student time to custody (I charge custody every chance I get...it is usually their fault anyway) and it should have been charged to EDUCATION. (B FAT D). Let me see...how many cells do I have in a month? 10 x 30 =300 x 60=1800....and I get written up for screwing up. TWO. CELLS.

I must be making more money than I thought.

Well, actually, I am. I got a note in the mail the other day and oopsie...they had misfigured my credits, of which I have a gazillion. And then I get extra money for all my language tests. And my gun stuff. And my hostage stuff. (Believe me. If they resort to giving me a gun and having me do the hostage stuff? The world as we kow it is over. Dig a hole.) SO they were going to have to figure out how big of a screw up they had made since last August and send me a check. Someday here pretty soon.

I celebrated by filling my car up with gas.

I love my job...except I'm not sure what it is

I love working at the prison. I love most of the people I work with. Even the really crazy ones...well, let's just say I can usually see a hot mess of crazy and not think it's me.

So we are moving over to the back of beyond, about TWO MILES from the parking lot down a cement alley we call main street that is back by cement buildings. So we are all packing up our offices (I am #8) and moving over to the old upholstery shop so the guys at the BoB can move into our offices and then we can move into their vacated space. Sound simple?

Except half the people moving are tied up in super duper high security something else, so many somebody elses have to pack for them. (I've moved people out of offices and set them back up elsewhere....and it is always just a little awkward to see what kind of junk people keep in their in boxes. Messy.)

So yesterday, I asked my first line supervisor exactly WHAT THE HECK he was planning for me to be doing? (Always just ask. Much quicker that way.) He said he didn't know. So when I saw HIS boss in the parking lot, I asked him. He said he didn't know.

I did not believe either one of them, since it is impossible for me to be going in to work every day with no apparent assignment for apparently the next 300 days. (Well, 600 days, if you count all the holidays and vacations and weekends. Immaterial.)

So today, a scant 24 hours after being today that neither one of them had any idea what i would be doing, I got a memo telling me that I would be sharing an office with Glenda. Huh. Glenda told me LAST WEEK that we were going to be sharing an office.

However, I still have no clue what I'm going to do. I thought I was going to be doing some kind of GED thing, but Frank told me that today HE was doing the GED thing. Plus, we've hired three new teachers....and where the heck they are going to put them is beyond me. Unless, of course, I'm in the line for a medical retirement (hello, 90%!).

So tomorrow, I'm borrowing some thugs to drag my stuff over to the old upholstery shop and then "draw" a line around it in masking tape and mark everything with a big "8" so that on Friday, different thugs can move my #8 stuff into my new #8 office. With three windows.

The view? Two hallways.

Of course, the office I really wanted has that one way mirrored stuff on the windows and doors. Much more entertaining.

Good news about goals

I am almost debt free. I have just a couple of credit cards which will be paid off (and shredded) by August 2. I use them on line, so it's not like I NEED to have them in my handbag. They email me the bills and I pay them.

So on September 2, my check will belong to me me me. Well, me and toys for the dogs, grooming for Rocket, my toes, my nails, my hair.....clothes, shoes, yarn, books......anything I think of to purchase for my Girlie and anything I can think of to purchase for my Boy-o who will be living in his own house by then. Maybe a year long bus pass? He has all the kitchen/bath/house stuff he needs, except for one of those automatic water-ers for the dog.

This is a little 2 bedroom house and the front bedroom? he is putting up an extra twin bed we have so that Lisi can come visit. Maybe he and I will go thrift store shopping and get the curtains and spread and stuff...new pillows, though.

We have figured out the BEST thing for good storage and a nice night stand, too. Target has these stackable drawers for shoes, underwear, etc. Two together, topped with a plywood round and a round tablecloth makes for a really nice night stand. (You can keep canceled checks or important papers in the drawers. Whatever.

At the foot of said twin bed will be one of my trucks, where extra blankets/sheets/towels are stored. Too cool for school.

My friend Nusan gave him her wrought iron pool fence, which is now his front fence. The glass shop guy (who thinks that although Ben could be a bum, he's not) gave us all the windows from a job where the people paid and then just left the deal, Happens a lot in construction. That's how I got my super duper jacuzzi wow bath tub for the hotel. People ordered it (paid the contractor's price) and the skipped out of the deal. And there he is, stuck with this super duper jet ski bath tub no one wants. And there we are, looking for a super duper jet ski bath tub.

Anyway, we also have a customer call who just bought a brand new never been lived in house for $200K (with prices the way they are, it is probably a $500K house).

His wife hates the kitchen. So we are tearing out a perfectly brand new, maple cabinet, CORIAN COUNTERED, dishwasher/stove/fridge so she can have the kind Kelly Ripka has. In the meantime, Ben will have what she had.

Doesn't this work great? Of course, I still have two pieces of molding missing in MY house. 13 years now.
Do I complain? Nope.

I have kitchen drawers that have popped off their rails. Do I complain? Nope. I need new grout everywhere and you better believe I am keeping my mouth shut about THAT because I re-grouted EVERYTHING in Florida. It is seriously not a job for me. A moron could do it and by the time I DID do it, not only had I worn off all the polish on my fingers and toes, I thought maybe I WAS a moron.

So we figure that the real estate market will come back up one day....it always does....and then we will do a little repairs (cover everything and shoot the entire interior with Navajo White) but leave the big stuff....like painting the outside and ripping out the white carpet as a sale deduction. Everyone knows that they aren't going to rip out the carpet but we all pretend that that is going to happen. And guess who is the only company in the county who will scrape/repair/repaint these old wooden Victorians? That would be us. And who do you think even knows how to rebuild screens for all these old windows? Right again!

I need to write a note to the yard guy and have him start putting the grass clippings into the garden boxes. Then you nail on lattice and plant one thing in each square.....say one squash plant in the squash box or one melon plant in the melon box. I have these wooden towers that settle right in the middle so stuff can grow up and non of the fruit lays on the wet ground. It looks wonderful and lush.

I'm ripping out all of the 128 rose bushes from the house my mother rented from us and put them over here. THAT will fill up the front. Well, not ME. I'm not actually doing it. I THOUGHT of it. Pete's doing it. He thinks it will look great. He calls this an estate and tells customers that he works at this big estate on the edge of town. He comes over ever week and mows or weeds or something. Now mind you, there is always just enough little stuff that I can do so I don;t feel totally useless. But nothing more than about 30 minutes....because I have that 30 yard over at the coast I have to worry about.

I'm wrapping the filter for the koi pond with a bamboo shade and hanging flat sided planters over the edge. Each one will be filled with mint (impossible to kill) and will have a little aquarium tube from the filter into the planters, so it is always damp. And my fish! My 2,000 fish barely make a dent in this pond....and some of them are as big as my hand. I have huge frogs, too....so no bugs in my backyard.

Notice that most of this work can be accomplished in one afternoon.....and I will be spending more time buying the stuff than actually DOING it?

My kind of farming.

Man! That shot hurt

We didn't have to be in downtown SF until 3:30, but since the traffic there is so random, we left at 10 am. And none too soon, either. We had time for two rest breaks and lunch.
I got to chat a little with some migraineurs who make me feel like a whiny crybaby. Obviously, there are some people who REALLY suffer. They not only have gone thru Hell, they have experienced all of the circles therein. (I obviously am just wringing my hands on the banks of the River Styx, with no idea what a REAL migraine feels like.)

So I finally get in, an hour late and after going thru my paperwork, he digs around until he finds the absolute most tender spots on my neck. And I am talking about DIGGING, here. With pointy fingers. This goes on until I have the G0lden Spike jammed to the hilt in my eyeball.

Then he gives an array of Novocaine shots (nothing) and then several steriod shots. I'm not sure that they hurt, because I could only hear them popping their way into that nerve bundle. He'd pull the needle out, reposition it and the inject this really thick liquid. THAT hurt. WORSE than a cortisone shot and with none of the immediate relief. I was holding my son's hands and I think I almost broke his fingers while he was doing the whole breathe in-breathe out-concentrate on my voice stuff.

So I had to hang around for about 30 minutes to make sure I didn't have any immediate side effects (too hideous to write down) AND then he suggested that we spend the night (OUT OF THE BLUE) in SF that night, just in case.

Well, that is totally not even an option. We all have work in the morning and hadn't planned for an over night stay. No hotel booked. No hotel MONEY planned in our budget. It is now 5:30 in the afternoon. We have no idea where to go.

SO he said to go to see my regular doctor in the morning...which of course, screws up my work schedule...big surprise. My work schedule is so totally screwed it is a wonder that I have a job. I just need to be checked to see if there is any bleeding in my brain. OMG. nobody mentioned this part.

I stay awake until we get to to SFO, where it is a straight short to Gilroy....where there are only about 10 miles of signs directing one TO Gilroy, which then funnels you to I-5.

I sleep for about an hour (thinking of course that surely to GOD, Mike can bother find his way out of SF, where we have only gone a dozen times to the very same place) and manage to turn EAST at Gilroy. Nope. He manages to pass up Gilroy and end up on the road to SALINAS. I wake up right about then and say "Wow! Look at that dirt! Isn;t that great llooking?" Then I realize I haven;t seen this particular patch of field EVER before. WHich means we must have lost our turnoff, past the Gilroy garlic fields. AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!

His excuse?"Hey, I drive. You guys are supposed to tell me where to turn." HELLO. GILROY. BIG ASSED SIGN? BIG SIGNS POINTED TO FRESNO? ALLthat is missing is a sign that says "MIKE!! TURN HERE!! NOW!!"

Men are idiots.

But he is taking me to the doctor today. SO men are just idiots like big dogs who dig big holes are idiots. It's that y chromosome. There is so much missing that they can't function like high order humans.

Which would be women.

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!