Now who would have thunk?

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are a Marilyn!

You are a Marilyn -- "I am affectionate and skeptical."

Marilyns are responsible, trustworthy, and value loyalty to family, friends, groups, and causes. Their personalities range broadly from reserved and timid to outspoken and confrontative.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Be direct and clear


• * Listen to me carefully


• * Don't judge me for my anxiety


• * Work things through with me


• * Reassure me that everything is OK between us


• * Laugh and make jokes with me


• * Gently push me toward new experiences


• * Try not to overreact to my overreacting.

What I Like About Being a Marilyn

• * being committed and faithful to family and friends


• * being responsible and hardworking


• * being compassionate toward others


• * having intellect and wit


• * being a nonconformist


• * confronting danger bravely


• * being direct and assertive

What's Hard About Being a Marilyn

• * the constant push and pull involved in trying to make up my mind


• * procrastinating because of fear of failure; having little confidence in myself


• * fearing being abandoned or taken advantage of


• * exhausting myself by worrying and scanning for danger


• * wishing I had a rule book at work so I could do everything right


• * being too critical of myself when I haven't lived up to my expectations

Marilyns as Children Often

• * are friendly, likable, and dependable, and/or sarcastic, bossy, and stubborn


• * are anxious and hypervigilant; anticipate danger


• * form a team of "us against them" with a best friend or parent


• * look to groups or authorities to protect them and/or question authority and rebel


• * are neglected or abused, come from unpredictable or alcoholic families, and/or take on the fearfulness of an overly anxious parent

Marilyns as Parents

• * are often loving, nurturing, and have a strong sense of duty


• * are sometimes reluctant to give their children independence


• * worry more than most that their children will get hurt


• * sometimes have trouble saying no and setting boundaries

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at HelloQuizzy

Hey! I'm one classy dame!

Click on the title if you want to take the quiz
I scored 26% grit, 14% wit, 33% flair, and 36% class!

You are class itself, the calm, confident "perfect woman." Men turn and look at you admiringly as you walk down the street, and even your rivals have a grudging respect for you.
You always know the right thing to say, do and, of course, wear.
You can take charge of a situation when things get out of hand,( duh, I work in a prison) and you're a great help to your partner even if they don't immediately see or know it.
You are one classy dame.
Your screen partners include William Powell and Cary Grant, you little simmerpot, you.

8am meeting

0500
Coffee blah blah blah blah coffee blah blah coffee blah coffee blah blah blah blah

0522
Great testing numbers over on "A" yard. 225 scores so far. 54 GEDs. Good job!

What are your plans for the inmates who work during the day? Haven't given it a thought. (NOT MY PROBLEM and if you think I am coming in at night you are crazy).

What about the inmates who are locked down? Haven't given it a thought. (NOT MY PROBLEM and if you think I am going into their cells you are crazy).

How about the inmates who don't speak English and would like to take the GED test? I know the answer to this one!They can take it when they get OUT of prison. We don't give it in Spanish here. I can;t give it because I TEACH it. The state GED guys are funny that way.

And where are we as far as GED testing in the SHU? (We aren't certified by the state office.)
When will that happen? (When Nancy from Sacramento gets clearance. She has been trying to get that super duper FBI clearance now for, oh, three years. Ball is sort of in your court.)

Oh.You can go now.

So I drove down to McDonald's got some breakfast and coffee and then came back to work and tested all day. And if I told you what that was like you wouldn't believe it. Suffice to say, it is a good thing that we have prisons.

It's not that I'm Important

Because God knows, I'm not.

But I just got an "emergency" email for the Monday meeting ( I bet it has nothing to do with me at all and they better have good coffee). Nothing makes me happier than getting a work email on a Sunday. We are in a leaderless state (no real principal), the acting is out, Jaqui is at training, the AP is out and that leaves just me knowing anything about this. And I gues they figured they better let me know now so I could get cleaned up, cause you never know what I'll look like.

The only ER meetings I can go to are these kinds because the rest of the week, somebody has to come hunt me down, because I have officers and a buncha inmates all ducated to test. I cannot just jump into my batmobile and swoop on down to the front, stopping for a soda on the way.

Not only am I busy, I am far away, locked up and busy.

And I am leaving that meeting at 820 because if I don't start at 830, we won't get finished by yard recall. And if there's a lockdown...well, praise Jesus, is all I can say. I need two or three days or a week.

I'm changing my email to mygiveadamnisbusted.com
And I'm never going to check it on the weekend.
Ever.

Those guys are not the boss of me 24/7.

I like Lyle's better

It gets me in the mood for my day

Fall Out

We've been going over to Morro Bay every weekend for the last ten years.

Unless we are at the Grand Canyon, that's where we are...either on the water or sitting on the patio, above the golf course, watching the tide go in and out and the deer wandering around. The fog rolls up the hill at this time of day and softens everything.

So the plan on my calendar for this weekend was for Brent and Mike and I to take to boat out, drop anchor and let Brent work on some of his sketches for a new series he was planning...some kind of rippling water transparent abstract thing was how he described it. Mike was going to do some diving and I was going to knit out in the sun. Coach's "little" girl, Jaime, just had a baby (She is LISI'S age, which just doesn't make it seem possible that she even has a baby.)

Then we'd probably grill some fish out on the dock. Sunday was going to be of the same.



But instead, we are staying home. I can't even bear to go flipping thru my calendar and delete Brent from our plans-not yet. It is hard enough to go over and clean out his house and bundle up his belongings for charity. I still have to clean up his studio because I can't ask Mike to do either one and there is no one else.

It's not so bad during the week--I'm so busy, I don't have time to think. It's the weekends that are killing me. It's the opposite for Mike. He saw Brent all week long, so the whole week is hard for him. Plus he gets phone calls all week long from Brent's friends who somehow think that he has all the answers.
He doesn't.

I just MOVED in July

I moved out of 3A in July out to Work Change and then out to Plant Ops--about 2 miles from the parking lot. Today I moved out of the teeny weeny office into a great big office across the hall and I am tired. Tired. Tired. Tired.

You would think that with a lot of help (five clerks who did all of the heavy stuff), there would have been almost nothing for me to do, wouldn't you? No matter how much help you have, there is a ton of stuff you have to do your own self.

I did manage to get my desk set up and my computer ready to go for Wednesday and all of my testing stuff ready for Monday and Tuesday. I have 60 guys to test/ducat/arrange for escorts/make sure I have the room/make sure I have FOUR officers assigned to my area. It is a huge deal because it runs over two shifts on Monday. On Tuesday, I test out in the cabinet shop--just twelve guys.

Wednesday is a slow day....I work with my own 200 students.. but I have to have them escorted down to me on Wednesdays, which can take forever. So on Wednesdays, I'm usually there late, just so I can get my Shubies done. They transfer in and out there so much that it seems that I say the same thing over and over, but I do have guys in the algebra segment. They have to request tutoring and my cut-off hour is two thirty because SHU is a time suck, just like etsy. And there's no OT, just good planning.

I ducat my own guys to test all day Thursday and half day Friday
Friday afternoon, I prep for Monday and Tuesday for 3A and Voc.

So it is 100 miles an hour all week long. I sandwich in meetings with the warden and lunch and paperwork and trotting off to work change or 3A or the SHU (all handily located about 2 miles equidistant from each other and my office). They don't pay me to saunter around.

By Friday, I am tired.

Some of Brent's friends called today

Which was so sweet and thoughtful.

This has been almost as hard on all of us as it was when we found out about Jackson, worse really because when Jackson went missing we worried ourselves sick for a year. With Brent, it came as such a surprise.

If it's October, I can't go to Fresno

In fact, I may not got to Fresno again. Ever.

The people there are impatient drivers.
And rude.
And in the big, wonk eyed hurry.

And yesterday, i violated my own rule of not going to the Fresno from October-January because there are too many Christmas crazy people on the road....and I was right.

Rude. Crowded. Crazy. Wonky-eyed honkers.
I hate people who honk their horns.

In the Hanford, the onliest horn honkers are the trains that go thru town, because this is not the NYC.
Nobody honks their horn in the San Francisco.
In the LA, they don;t waste their time honking, they just shoot you. Straight to the point.

But Fresno has lost all of my respect and money. Well, except for Barnes and Noble. I'll go there but only because it's a straight shot right off the freeway.


There was more horn honking going on yesterday in the Fresno that I have ever heard in my life.
So I am not going back.

I am however, going in this morning to get a ginormous shot for the evil spirits inside my head who are trying to escape. They have pointy little sticks and are try to jab their way thru my eyeball. For a nickel, I'd get a drill and let them out because it REALLY hurts. Not wonder the Aztec/Mayans/Indiana Jones guys drilled holes in their heads. It sounds like a really good idea to me right now.

The clinic opens at eight and I will knock down any old ladies who get in my way.

This is what last week taught me

A Birth Certificate shows that we were born.
A Death Certificate shows that we died.
Pictures show that we lived.


I Believe...
That just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do love each other.

I Believe...
That we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I Believe...
That no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I Believe...
That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I Believe....
That you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I Believe...
That it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I Believe...
That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I Believe...
That you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I Believe...
That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I Believe...
That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I Believe...
That heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I Believe...
That money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I Believe...
That my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I Believe...
That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back up.

I Believe...
That sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I Believe...
That maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I Believe...
That it isn't always enough, to be forgiven by others; sometimes, you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I Believe...
That no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I Believe...
That our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I Believe...
That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I Believe...
Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I Believe...
That your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

I Believe...
That even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you - you will find the strength to help.

I Believe...
That credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I Believe...
That the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.


I Believe...
That the delete button is every bit as important as spell check.

I Believe...
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything ...

Spent the day testing testing testing

I can;t even count how many guys I tested--all I know is that they made SIXTY GAIN POINTS, which is huge. And this is only October. I have until next July to hit my year's limit. And this was only one yard..I have the entire SHU to do, too.

This means nothing to anyone not working in corrections. It is GIANT if you do.

I love this

Trying to post an actual knit pattern

WAY easier than it looks.

Keep tuning it, because it is one of most enduring favorites. I've been making this same pattern now for...oh, 25 years and I still like it. It is easy, entertaining and quick. Very little math. Cute in all manner of yarns. I can make it stripey or textured or subtle or bright. Mainly, it is just tapioca for my brain and that is plenty good enough for me.

This is pretty much the sketch I use all the time. I can add cuffs to the sleeves or make it a cardigan, no problem. It is nice, mindless and slouchy. Fitted? Now that's another pattern.

Mailed in my ballot

This was one terrible week.just tragic

My husband's friend killed himself Friday night.
He went into our office, found a gun and shot himself in the yard.

We were over at the house on the beach and got this weird call...weird as in "I think Brent is dead over here." How can you think someone is dead?

How can something so final and horrible be an "I think" moment? How can someone make a call like that when you are sitting on the patio eating toast and watching the boats sail by?

Nothing we could do, so we stayed there, whacked out, wracked by our own personal demons. We had just seen him on Thursday and HE WAS FINE.

Fine. Fucked. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.
Obviously, he was fine.

Mike blamed himself, all afternoon and into the night and all this week Needless to say, we spent the week up all night, wondering what we could have done/seen/said and then working all day. We are still a little zombie like. Okay, I'm a mad zombie.

It is a terrible thing to lose a friend; to not see it coming when you see someone day in and day out. All the guys on the crew are hurting as well and the sad thing is the I can get mad and they keep it all bottled up inside.

In hindsight, I can see all of the little (well, little to me) things that just piled up on Brent.
The poetry slams didn't take off
The Angry Poet business didn't take wing.
The crazy former girlfriend who managed to show up everywhere, shrieking like a banshee.
His abstract painting, while slowly taking off, wasn't zooming to the top like all his asshole art buddies were telling him it should.
Sort of hard to hear how fantastic, insightful, incredibly talented you are and still not able to make a living at your art. LIKE WHO DOES? But that was part of his illness which caused him to stick a gun to his head at 1 am and pull the trigger.

I can't tell you how many thousands of hours Brent spent over our kitchen table, while I made pasta with whatever I had in the garden and whatever I had butchered lately.
Great meals , listening to opera way into the night.

We spent wonderful weekends over in Morro Bay--Brent would stay on our boat with his dogs and we'd stay at out house and he would sketch and think and amble over for dinner. Mike would work on his stained glass. We'd sit out on the patio and watch the tide go out. It doesn't sound like much, written down, but it was just normal for us. Good food. Good friends. Nothing earthshaking.

I'd knit, we'd drink gallons of coffee and then there was always that back beat of male conversation in the background. Dogs in my lap. Feet up on a chair and quilts over our shoulders.

Mike and Brent were unique in that Mike was his sponsor, employer, patron and friend. He often said that the surest way to run a person off was to become their sponsor but this wasn't the case with Brent--it just made us all closer, until the end.

They talked, not about family or childhood, but about addiction and overcoming their present demons. I have plenty of experience of jumping on the sole crazy train myself, where a permanent solution sounds like the perfect solution to a temporary problem and it seemed as though they were able to hash it out every time.

And there were plenty of times--not just on the weekends, but during the week and in the middle of the night. That crazy button is no respector of the clock. Thank God for coffee and insomnia. Somebody is always awake over here, so it was never an imposition or even a surprise to find Brent sitting on the front porch. Tank would barrel down the stairs and keep him company or just alert us that we needed to pour another cup and open the door.

This whole week was hideous.
We talked with the girlfriend. Waited for family. Talked with the sheriff's department. Got called a motherfucker by tg....and where that came from, I'm not sure. She got to stay in the house, heck, almost a month's rent and utility on my nickle and I'M the motherfucker?

This whole thing MAKES ME FURIOUS.

I feel terrible for all for the people who are left behind in the wake of this, but by hell, I'm left behind, too.

And I have all the crap to clean up. I get to clean up the blood and the brains and all the junk that no one deemed valuable enough to cart off and said "Somebody will take care of the crap".
(Or most likely, in the words of tg, "Brent said you and Mike would take care of meeeeeeee.")
By this time, tg is not on my list of favorite people.

Well ALL is a LOT to dump on a person's lap, with a snotty father on the other end of the phone line, threatening litigation. And these are the self-same people who had the keys for a week, not me.

Obviously, tgd doesn't know me, since all the lawyers east of the Mississippi don't scare me. All of Oprah's lawyer's don't scare me. But, like I said, obviously, he doesn't know me. tg must have spent a lifetime hiding behind someone, if she thinks calling me a motherfucker would make me spring to her bidding.

And I don't like it much. At all in fact.
Treat me like crap-fine. I'm used to it. I work in a prison and I get this all day long. It's not personal. Selfish, sure. Self-involved, absolutely. Personal? Not at all. I am simply in the way. (In the way when it suits your fancy. Which is just a fancy way of saying you are a selfish and self involved to the extreme.

Treat Mike like crap? Call HIM a Mother Fucker?
You have another think coming, and coming fast.

And that cleanup somebody is ME-body. And I don't much like being in the loop when you like it and being ordered around when it suits your fancy.

And no one is coming over and saying poor poor Chloe. Poor, poor Mike.

Nope, It's Motherfucker, as usual.

And if I'm not writing poetry to stick on the end of my post, it's because I'm on my hands and knees. scrubbing the newly vacated rental so I can recoup my losses because utilities aren't free.
Studio rent isn't free.

I paid for all of this because Brent was my friend and Mike's friend and you can't put a price on friendship but gosh, it sure would be nice if someone noticed. If someone said, hey, this was my dad/brother/boyfriend, let me pay. By now thank you is too late.

Nope. I spend hundreds of hours in the belly of the beast with the worst kinds of people you can IMAGINE--people who are so awful that they make Charles Manson look like your favorite baby sitter--- and I'm glad to spend it on Brent...I just don't want to spend it on deliberate destruction by some 9-month girlfriend.

Why, yes I am a bitch.
Scrubbing up after other people who leave in the night without a thank you will do that to a person.

Going over in the middle of the night and shoveling gravel over the blood and the brains so my husband doesn't have to see it?
Taking care of the million and one details of a tragedy?
That will do it to a person.

Wind me up and I'll do the right thing because that is the way I'm wired.
My job is protect my husband who doesn't deserve to be treated like crap with a wallet.

What's that you say? Doesn't seem right? A little one sided?
Oh, maybe you want to read their side of it? Go right ahead.

Because I'm the one up in the middle of the night with Mike. From the first. Not tg. Mike. And tonight? It's Mike. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. And tg? She has to look at herself and I guess that is the dish served best cold.

And really, I don't care about anyone else.
And if that seems harsh, well, suicide is a pretty harsh piece of reality. Who would know better than me?

It's not my first and it won't be my last because in my heart, I keep believing that ten years and the self-respect we shared is worth it.

Brent, we had you for ten wonderful years. years that I think you wouldn't have had and you were an honorable man and a wonderful friend to Mike. We may never get over you...and I say that in a good way. Good friends are a rarity and you should leave a hole in our hearts.

And you have. Tank misses you, too. I know I do.

Fair sailing, my friend. Smooth waters.

Caught

Goals for 2009

1. No more headaches. I'll try to do what the head doctor tells me. It's been a THREE whole weeks now since my head shot...so far so good.
2. Finish my blue sweater. Can't finish if I don't even bother to pick it up.
3. Finish grey sweater. DONE
   
4. Repair pink afghan. See #3.
5. I'd like to go to Stitches West in 2011. I have plans for 2009 and 2010, so 2011 is my first opening. (How did I manage to get booked so far in advance?)
6. MLK weekend-well, already I have to put that on hold. I'm booked for that weekend. Darn-ola.
   
7. Rag roll the dining room (that dusty pink is just off the mark) and then stripe it with painters tape and THEN paint over it with clear glaze. That will give me just the sheerest stripe that will just pick up the light.
   
8. Cruise to Alaska. July 2009 (Paid for)
   
9. Refinish my sewing table. I think I'll take it over to the coast and work on it over there. I want to strip it down to the bare wood (it's painted white now) and then stain it something dark to go into my little office off the master bedroom in the hotel.
   
10. Zero out my credit cards. I think I owe less than $900, so I can do this by next month. I just have to write the checks. DONE
    
11. Renew my teaching credential. Silly me, I thought last time WAS the last time. Once more. Maybe.
    
12. Go thru my closet and actually get rid of my clothes that are too big. When we moved out to Plant Ops (2 miles from the parking lot) I lost FOUR SIZES. Even my equipment belt can't keep my pants up anymore. I need to toss out my slacks and actually buy new ones (okay-seven new ones that all look exactly the same) that at least fit.
13. Recover my big huge couch with a leopard print velvety chenille (as soon as the upholstery shop reopens at the prison, or I couldn't afford what I want. I have the gimp and the fancy nails that I'll put on myself, along with the heavy fringe). The inmates will do the triple tobacco colored welting, though.
    
14. I already have the fabric (on sale at the Cotton Ball) and the fabric for the over-sized cushy down pillows with the really luxe fringe (again, on sale from the Britex). Once that gets done, up into the hotel and cover with a set of Salvation Army sheets. Really, this fabric is beyond luxe and totally over the top. And the trim is something you would see in an old style Hollywood estate--totally and outrageously expensive (except I got the very end of the bolt for almost nothing and I haggeled over the price.)
    
15. Make the fancy, elaborate Victorian lampshades to go in the hotel. It is all hand sewing and even I can do that.
    

Knitting weather and shots in my head

The weather has finally turned--it is 20 degrees cooler today than yesterday. Most of the crops are in, except for the cotton and the raisins and I wonder how the farmers will manage to get them out of the fields with out a few more weeks of dry hot weather.

The grapes are already on the ground, lying on the papers, so they will mold right there if it isn't dry and hot enough.
AND the cotton--well, those cotton farmers should go to Gambler's Anonymous is all I'm saying. Every year is a terrific gamble. At least with cows you can manage to get something. With cotton it is all pinned on the last weeks of October and the weather.

We spent two days in the San Francisco---pretty boring, with no lights, no action, no shopping. Staying at the Cathedral Hill hotel on Van Ness and Geary (spacious room, balcony, garden view, quiet, good parking) and then went to UC/SF early the next morning for some head shots for my migraines. Not as awful as the last go round.

I go back in January and I'm hoping that I can get Lisi to take me. Mike hates driving in the city and is on edge the whole time. Even I'm not so bad, but of course, I can't drive after having gigantic needles jammed up into my head. I stayed awake the whole way home (five hours) and we didn't miss a single exit. I did feel goofy that day and the next but I feel fine today. I think it is sort of odd to have my life defined by my headaches, though. It's the first thing I think of---the ONLY thing I thing of. How is my head? Sort of like having a colicky baby.

Next time we go to the SF, I think I want to go to Britex....if Mike doesn't go with. I'm going to set the guest room up as a sewing room because I really like sewing and I'd like to make some shirts for myself out of some nice (non-WalMart) fabric to wear to work. Just nice, plain can't-buy-to-off-the-rack stuff to wear with my plain don't-look-at-me slacks. I work in the SHU and wear riot gear, so I have a real narrow idea of what is comfortable and easy to wear.

And speaking of the SHU, I am really loving my little GED Express program. I'm still only about a month ahead of the students, but I get about 25 lessons in a week to grade, write my little notes on the tests and shoot them right back out to them, so we have that little dialog. They get immediate feedback and a new lesson, which hadn't been happening. At the end of each unit, they get a certificate. I test each week-once on the general population yard and then three days in the SHU in cages---which takes forever but in prison, time is really the only commodity anyone has. I think I have found my little niche. Now I just have to generate the numbers and progress to justify it to keep it.

We get up early

Like 5, at the latest. Hop into the hot tub.Look at the stars, which have moved around the sky from last night. Feed the dogs. It is October now and officially too cold for swimming, which goes on from Easter to the end of September and has for, oh, the last 30 years. Which is a really long time, even when I had to use the city pool, which was heated and could have gone on for a lot longer.

So I'm dressed by 6 but it usually takes me another 15 minutes to find my shoes. Then it is a mad dash out the door, because I don't speed. I leave at the same time every day and I get there when I get there.

Lisi is coming over and spending the night, so it is Chinese take-out tonight. I haven't seen her for, oh, maybe a month. She is busy with second watch and overtime.

Sick and Twisted

Click on the "Sick and Twisted" title for the video
What working in a prison will do to a girl's sense of humor!

Shooting Stars and stained glass

This has been an amazing couple of nights for deep dark starlit nights filled with stars just tumbling from the heavens. Of course, you have to be awake and outside to see all of this, but it is just beautiful! Then I had to get all philosophical and try to wrap my brain around how far it is from where I am to the next star and how far it would be from there to the NEXT star I can't even see (gave up on that--my brain doesn't stretch that far). Then I sidetracked myself off to the concept of life and death and how a shooting star has done both and here I was seeing something that had happened how many thousands of years ago and just now managed to make it into my view? and for how brief of a time? And then how the eternal clock really is different than an Earthly one....which was just too much deep thinking for me.

Driving into work super early yesterday (I had to go into work early to cover the office/pick up Mock for a shoot up in the Tower/get lessons mailed out/finish up my GED social studies unit---which was way more time consuming than I thought). Working in the middle of the bottom of a lake bed, in a huge ag area is always a pleasure, no matter what I say when it is hot.

Something is always going on. Today, most everything is being harvested, so there is a fine film of dust, hovering a foot off the ground.

What isn't being harvested is being tilled back into the ground, getting ready to be planted again. This is big farming and there is very little down time. When I was growing up, we couldn't physically work the ground like this---there just weren't enough of us.

But here, a crop is harvested, tilled up, amended, ripped, planted and the whole cycle starts up again. I'm sure not everyone notices but I do and that's why I like living here in the big flat middle of nowhere.

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.