Last night, I had settled down with a puzzle while Josh was watching Barney on our computer in our bedroom. At about 9:30, I hear our remaining cat, who was sitting in the window, pawing at the window pane. She usually does this to alert us that whatever is happening outside is much more interesting than what's happening on the inside. I excitedly got up to see what was going on. I opened the door and didn't see anything. Then...around our porch swing, I saw a little black face emerge. It was Mocaco! He'd made his way back home. I grabbed him and went back inside.
Troubles, the other cat, was none too pleased to see the return of her wayward brother. I was apprehensive, thinking maybe in my excitement, I had pegged the wrong black kitty as mine and now I've introduced a complete stranger to our inner sanctum. But, within seconds, I knew it was Mocaco. He ran straight downstairs to where the litter box and food are and he talked nonstop for about 5 minutes.
However, Troubles was still not happy that Mocaco had returned. We asked Mocaco several times where he's been hiding out all this time (it'd been roughly 4 days since we last saw him) but he was mum on the subject. He followed us around, trying to keep out of Troubles warpath, until nighttime. Then he assumed his regular spot on the edge of the bed and slept there the whole night. Even Wade managed to keep from kicking him off during the course of the night. Troubles, however, assumed an entirely new position against my face and stayed there the whole night, keeping an eye on Mocaco. Several times during the night, he'd shift and Troubles would hiss at him. We've tried giving her equal amounts of attention, but she's not interested in us anymore. She's mad.
So this leads me to a few theories as to where my beloved cat went for four days.
(a) Mocaco Lost a Bet: Sometime during church on Sunday, Troubles and Mocaco sat down for a friendly game of kitty poker. Things got heated and bets were made. Troubles won the final hand, and Mocaco was left with nothing to his name so he was kicked out of the house to make it on his own. He'd show up under the cover of night and wistfully look into our home and dream about what life use to be like. Thursday night, however, he showed up before it was completely dark and Troubles was warning HIM not us that he was early for his daily reminiscing.
(b) Government Overthrow: Troubles has felt the need for more power as she has aged over the years, and so in a fit of power weilding superiority, she kicked Mocaco out so she could have us all to herself. Mocaco made friends with the little white kitty that shows up periodically and sent him/her over to check on the state of the Troubles Union. At 6 am Thursday morning, I awake to hear Troubles wigging out behind the blinds and go investigate. There sitting in the front yard is the white cat assessing what's going on inside. Troubles is making a complete freak show of herself inside the window trying to get to the white kitty, and the white kitty is calmly sitting there watching the spectacle. White kitty returns to Mocaco, who then insists on checking it out himself. Maybe the Queen has gone senile and he can return safely to his kingdom?
(c) Prank Gone Awry: Troubles has always been the brains behind any operation, while Mocaco's left to be the muscle man. Troubles has a bright idea to pull a prank on us and pretend to go missing. However, she's not about to be locked out away from food and water so she convinces Mocaco to carry out her plan. Little does she know that we wouldn't start looking for him until nearly 36 hours later. Mocaco, thinking we've left him out in the wilds to fend for himself, wanders aimlessly during the night time hours (you know, if you're ever stuck in the desert, you're suppose to sleep during the day--when it's hot--and walk at night. Unless it's the African safari, at which case, you need the sunlight to determine that you're not going to be eaten by big game) until one night, he stumbles upon his old home and we welcome him back with open arms. Troubles, now use to being the only cat being loved, is mad that he's come home.
(d) Is There Life Out There?: Mocaco, growing suspicious of the baby crib being set up again and the mother of the home's swelling midsection, puts two and two together and realizes that another human is joining the household soon. Having been terrorized for the past 3 years by the alien creature that descended into his tranquil lifestyle, Mocaco can't stand the thought of having to compete with another one, so in a fit of panic escapes through a door carelessly left open. Free to roam the neighborhood, he realizes that he's ill-prepared for what's on the outside. The other outside kittens have formed their own gang and won't allow a meager housecat to join them. And he's hungry. Meanwhile, the mother of the house has set up a bowl of water and food to lure him back and it works. Troubles gives away his position by pawing at the window when he approaches the food and now he's stuck back inside. But he tasted freedom at last. Though since he's not clamoring to get back out, I'm thinking he's been there done that and he'll rest happy inside.
In any case, whatever his reason, we're glad he's back, safe and sound.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Convenience Parenting
A lot has been discussed over the years about the most effective parenting techniques:
Hyperschedulers: These parents schedule every minute of every day of their children. I've run in to a few parents who fit nicely in this category. When I looked at this parenting technique, I realized it's not for me. I like to be able to adapt to situations and not be homebound because of nap/bed times and eating times.
Purely Flexible Schedulers: These parents have no schedule. Bedtime naptime and eating are completely arbitrary to what ever the day brings. However, they too are bound by what their children want or need.
So evolved our parenting method: Convenience Parenting. This evolved, for us, over time. I tried to be consistent with Josh as I was nursing him and he was sleeping through the night at six weeks. However, if something came up during his usual feeding time, I'd just adjust it to fit my schedule. I didn't worry that he ate an hour earlier than usual or 1/2 hour later. We were careful not to make bedtime a long ritual. We rarely read books at night. When it was time for bed, we'd lay him in his crib, turn off the light and close the door. He'd spend time playing and then he'd fall asleep.
On Josh's first birthday, I was sick and tired of washing bottles, so I packed them all away. I don't know if this was traumatic for him. I never got in the habit of having him carry a bottle around with him everywhere. It was strictly for meal times and a few other times during the day. He didn't seem to mind me carting all the bottles downstairs. But he went to strictly sippy cups from there.
At 14 months, I was sick and tired of looking for his binky before he'd go to bed. Some days it would be a half hour ordeal. So one day, we stopped looking. We put him to bed without his binky and three nights later he finally fell asleep. (Okay, an exaggeration, but it felt like three nights.) In actuality, it really only took three nights for him to stop crying for an hour or more before succumbing to slumber. I think it helped that he wasn't talking yet so I didn't have to hear him whine about his missing binky.
When it came time to potty train, we let him go at his own pace. We never pushed and one day he just did it. This isn't always the case, but it was for us.
So last night we encountered another "convenience parenting" moment. We have been allowing Josh to sleep with his bedroom light on because he's afraid of the dark. However, he's now directly across from our bedroom and the light is bothersome. Also, when baby #2 comes, I don't want the light on to keep her up. So yesterday, we picked out a really cute Mater lamp at Walmart. Then we unscrewed his lightbulbs from the ceiling light. I'm happy to report that he wasn't too mad. He did finally fall asleep. The light emits just the right amount of light and all was well until about 4:30, when he came crying into our room and was banished to the floor. (We don't allow him to sleep in our bed. It's too small of a bed for the three of us).
So while there's nothing wrong with the aforementioned parenting techniques, ours is truly for our benefit. For the most part, having a child has not interfered with our lives that much. We've just adapted to taking him with us. Sometimes, Josh has to remind me he hasn't eaten. But other than that, I think we're doing pretty good.
Hyperschedulers: These parents schedule every minute of every day of their children. I've run in to a few parents who fit nicely in this category. When I looked at this parenting technique, I realized it's not for me. I like to be able to adapt to situations and not be homebound because of nap/bed times and eating times.
Purely Flexible Schedulers: These parents have no schedule. Bedtime naptime and eating are completely arbitrary to what ever the day brings. However, they too are bound by what their children want or need.
So evolved our parenting method: Convenience Parenting. This evolved, for us, over time. I tried to be consistent with Josh as I was nursing him and he was sleeping through the night at six weeks. However, if something came up during his usual feeding time, I'd just adjust it to fit my schedule. I didn't worry that he ate an hour earlier than usual or 1/2 hour later. We were careful not to make bedtime a long ritual. We rarely read books at night. When it was time for bed, we'd lay him in his crib, turn off the light and close the door. He'd spend time playing and then he'd fall asleep.
On Josh's first birthday, I was sick and tired of washing bottles, so I packed them all away. I don't know if this was traumatic for him. I never got in the habit of having him carry a bottle around with him everywhere. It was strictly for meal times and a few other times during the day. He didn't seem to mind me carting all the bottles downstairs. But he went to strictly sippy cups from there.
At 14 months, I was sick and tired of looking for his binky before he'd go to bed. Some days it would be a half hour ordeal. So one day, we stopped looking. We put him to bed without his binky and three nights later he finally fell asleep. (Okay, an exaggeration, but it felt like three nights.) In actuality, it really only took three nights for him to stop crying for an hour or more before succumbing to slumber. I think it helped that he wasn't talking yet so I didn't have to hear him whine about his missing binky.
When it came time to potty train, we let him go at his own pace. We never pushed and one day he just did it. This isn't always the case, but it was for us.
So last night we encountered another "convenience parenting" moment. We have been allowing Josh to sleep with his bedroom light on because he's afraid of the dark. However, he's now directly across from our bedroom and the light is bothersome. Also, when baby #2 comes, I don't want the light on to keep her up. So yesterday, we picked out a really cute Mater lamp at Walmart. Then we unscrewed his lightbulbs from the ceiling light. I'm happy to report that he wasn't too mad. He did finally fall asleep. The light emits just the right amount of light and all was well until about 4:30, when he came crying into our room and was banished to the floor. (We don't allow him to sleep in our bed. It's too small of a bed for the three of us).
So while there's nothing wrong with the aforementioned parenting techniques, ours is truly for our benefit. For the most part, having a child has not interfered with our lives that much. We've just adapted to taking him with us. Sometimes, Josh has to remind me he hasn't eaten. But other than that, I think we're doing pretty good.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
An Ode to Mocaco
Five and a half years ago, we adopted two kitties from a co-worker of Wade. She had found the mother cat dead in the church parking lot and a litter of kittens trying to nurse off of her. She successfully got rid of the other kittens but had two left. Whichever one we didn't choose was headed to the pound the next day. When we arrived at her house, they were locked in a room to keep the German Shepherd from eating them. The lady opened the door and out flew two balls of fur. We had originally intended to only take one home, but I knew right away that I couldn't choose who lived and who died. I told Wade it was either both of them or neither of them. So that's how we ended up with two.
I named the black male kitty Mocaco (monkey in Portugese) and Wade named his gray sister Troubles. And they've lived up to their name. Mocaco has always been the most vocal of the two. He would meow at the mention of his name and rarely hid for very long. When he was little he'd climb the doors and sit on the top of the door. Troubles is more people friendlier. She wants to be around people whereas Mocaco will hide if there's little children. I think this stems from a scarring incident when they were mere kittens and I found one of Wade's nephews in the back bedroom with Mocaco's head in his mouth.
They're both very gentle and obviously care a lot about each other. Troubles use to bathe Mocaco daily but I haven't seen them do this for a while. Maybe once a week or so. One night Troubles got outside and we forgot about her. At about 2 am, I awoke to Mocaco's meowing. I finally got out of bed to check what the problem was and he was sitting at the front door. I opened the door and in flew Troubles. Another time, when they were still kittens, one got closed inside our bedroom when we left for work. When we got home, one was sitting in the hall with their paws under the door and the other one's paws were seen coming out. I imagine that's how they sat the entire day.
We've had some close calls to losing one of them. Troubles is the more adventurous of the two and you can't hear her meow as much. She tends to like to be outside and roam so we have to be careful. One night, we heard a car screech and ran outside. The driver said that a gray cat had darted in front of him, but he was able to stop in time. Every once in a while, we have to go looking for one of them who's escaped. Since Mocaco is all black, it's nearly impossible to find him in the dark. But, he always comes back.
Until today. I can't remember what made me start looking for Mocaco, but I did. And I looked everywhere. Usually, you just have to call his name and he comes running. Occassionally, you have to run downstairs like you're going to feed him and he'll definitely come then. I tried both tricks to no avail. I looked in closets and dressers and under beds, but no black kitty. When Wade got home, I told him our dilemma. He looked everywhere too. Nada. We called for him outside. We drove around the block. No Mocaco. He's gone. In the almost six years we've had him, he's never taken off like this. We sat down and tried to remember the last time we had seen him. I remember seeing him on Saturday night, but Wade can remember seeing him Sunday morning. Where he is now is anybody's guess. I'm saddened it took me until Tuesday afternoon to realize he was gone. They use to be our "babies", but when Josh joined the picture, they were pushed aside.
I never got to say goodbye. That's the hardest part. Of all the cats I had growing up, none of them ran away. We always had to have them put down and so we got to say goodbye. But, today, I mourn the loss of my little black kitty and I can only hope that some poor sap took him in when he wouldn't stop meowing. That's what I have to tell myself because the alternative is too much to bear. I hope wherever he is, he's happy and well fed.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Clean Up, Clean Up
In some bizarre twist of fate, we have decided to finish our basement this fall. We had maintained that we were going to get our house paid off first (in about 5 or 6 years) before tackling that particular home improvement job, but the present economy has us changing our minds. Construction materials are at an all time low, and Wade's current job is paying him well enough that we can hopefully do this without taking out any Home Depot cards or loans. This situation could all change itself in the next few years, but we're confident at least for the next six months, we'll be stable enough to pull it off and so this weekend we started.
The first thing we have to do is figure out how to fit five bedrooms worth of stuff into three bedrooms upstairs. As well as everything else we have stored down there. Baby stuff. Memorabilia. Home repair items. Our basement has been the world's largest storage area for nearly six years. Of course, to fit everything upstairs, we also have to clean out the closets upstairs to make room. And in the process, we need to move Josh over to our TV room, move the TV room to the front room and reset up the nursery for baby #2. To make matters worse, there's not a lot of lifting I can do. But this seems to be our MO. Do everything the hard way.
So we started with the "easiest" thing. Moving the rooms around. Saturday, Wade disassembled our TV couch. Though the couch was the ugliest thing ever, it was nice to sit in and watch movies. There's no room for it anywhere else except out in the front room and I told Wade it was me or the couch because I wasn't putting that sucker out there for all to see. He relented and carted it in pieces to the garage. Meanwhile, we discovered that the couch was a man-eating couch. I've never seen so much stuff come out of a couch and it's now strewn across the house. Next, we had to move the TV to the front room. I've been resisting this since we moved in. The front room isn't set up to really accomodate a TV nicely and it's a little awkwardly placed, but I have to keep telling myself it's just a temporary solution. We don't use the TV that often--most of our tv watching comes off the computer in our bedroom--but we do watch movies occassionally on it, so it had to go somewhere. This concluded Saturday's activities.
Sunday, we spent much of the evening cleaning out the TV room and moving Josh's bed over to his "new" room. He was so excited. I have been given the task of cleaning the house today and cleaning out our bedroom closet. I can sense the jealously raging out of control throughout the wide web at how much fun I'll be having today. Tomorrow will be even better. I get to clean out the hall closets and make room in there for loads of stuff from the basement.
Our goal is to move everything but the treadmill and weight bench and a big metal desk upstairs so that we don't have to work around everything when we're finishing the basement. We'll see how well we accomplish this goal, but I'm optimistic that we'll get pretty darn close. We may have to use some of the garage.
So, let's mentally tally up the current stresses in our lives: Wade starts "new" job today (same job, new company), Sandra is 21 weeks pregnant and still feels icky, Graduate school starts in three weeks for Wade, Sandra's last class for her belated bachelor's degree starts in three weeks, new baby coming at Christmas time so Christmas shopping needs to be done with by Thanksgiving, high-maintenance church callings in a big ward for both Wade and Sandra, and--oh yeah--let's finish our basement while we're at it.
I just have to keep reminding myself that we need the room, it will be nice. We need the room, it will be nice.
Here's to happy cleaning!
The first thing we have to do is figure out how to fit five bedrooms worth of stuff into three bedrooms upstairs. As well as everything else we have stored down there. Baby stuff. Memorabilia. Home repair items. Our basement has been the world's largest storage area for nearly six years. Of course, to fit everything upstairs, we also have to clean out the closets upstairs to make room. And in the process, we need to move Josh over to our TV room, move the TV room to the front room and reset up the nursery for baby #2. To make matters worse, there's not a lot of lifting I can do. But this seems to be our MO. Do everything the hard way.
So we started with the "easiest" thing. Moving the rooms around. Saturday, Wade disassembled our TV couch. Though the couch was the ugliest thing ever, it was nice to sit in and watch movies. There's no room for it anywhere else except out in the front room and I told Wade it was me or the couch because I wasn't putting that sucker out there for all to see. He relented and carted it in pieces to the garage. Meanwhile, we discovered that the couch was a man-eating couch. I've never seen so much stuff come out of a couch and it's now strewn across the house. Next, we had to move the TV to the front room. I've been resisting this since we moved in. The front room isn't set up to really accomodate a TV nicely and it's a little awkwardly placed, but I have to keep telling myself it's just a temporary solution. We don't use the TV that often--most of our tv watching comes off the computer in our bedroom--but we do watch movies occassionally on it, so it had to go somewhere. This concluded Saturday's activities.
Sunday, we spent much of the evening cleaning out the TV room and moving Josh's bed over to his "new" room. He was so excited. I have been given the task of cleaning the house today and cleaning out our bedroom closet. I can sense the jealously raging out of control throughout the wide web at how much fun I'll be having today. Tomorrow will be even better. I get to clean out the hall closets and make room in there for loads of stuff from the basement.
Our goal is to move everything but the treadmill and weight bench and a big metal desk upstairs so that we don't have to work around everything when we're finishing the basement. We'll see how well we accomplish this goal, but I'm optimistic that we'll get pretty darn close. We may have to use some of the garage.
So, let's mentally tally up the current stresses in our lives: Wade starts "new" job today (same job, new company), Sandra is 21 weeks pregnant and still feels icky, Graduate school starts in three weeks for Wade, Sandra's last class for her belated bachelor's degree starts in three weeks, new baby coming at Christmas time so Christmas shopping needs to be done with by Thanksgiving, high-maintenance church callings in a big ward for both Wade and Sandra, and--oh yeah--let's finish our basement while we're at it.
I just have to keep reminding myself that we need the room, it will be nice. We need the room, it will be nice.
Here's to happy cleaning!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Book Review Friday August 1, 2008
Book: Doing Time Together: Love and Family in the Shadow of the Prison
Author: Megan Comfort
Pages: 197
The subject matter of this book was how incarceration of males reaches out and touches the females in their lives--particularly, their wives, fiancees, or girlfriends. Overall, I thought the book was intriguing and quite interesting. However, there were some huge pitfalls.
For starters, the author made the women out to be "secondary prisoners" being held captive by the correctional system. In the first chapter, the holding area for visitors awaiting access to their inmates was described in great detail. Posters describing which items were not permitted into the jail, as well as what was appropriate to wear inside the compound was described at length. The author seemed aghast that the prison system would put such restrictions on the "freedom" of the women. Having never been to a jail to visit someone--as my life and those I choose to have around me tend to not run afoul of the law--even I knew what would constitute as inappropriate wear for a jail visit. See through clothes--nada. Skirts with slits higher than two inches above the knee--nope. Tank tops. Cleavage. Short shorts. You get the drift. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why these options are inappropriate for a place holding men who haven't seen a woman in a long, long time. What I failed to understand is that why was this such a big deal to the author? In every aspect of our lives--work, church, restaurants--we are essentially told what is appropriate and not appropriate. Why should jails be any different. It's for the protection of the woman. I don't feel that it's a way to undermine the female counterpart to the inmate.
Another issue that seemed to arise was the lack of things that could be taken in to the visit the inmate. This isn't summer camp. Mom can't bake you a cake and bring it in. There is a reason someone is behind bars. The author seemed to find that many women were distraught that they couldn't bring their loved one something home baked. Again...no need for a degree to figure this one out.
The third thing that irked me were the racial undertones, as though the prison system is made up of bigoted, racists who are out to get the minorities in the country. While I agree that some of that goes on--as it does in all other aspects of life--I can't quite get myself to believe that prisons are here solely for the purpose of ridding the streets of minorities, particularly black men.
So on to the good parts: There were three groups of women used in this extensive study. The first group of women were financially self-sufficient, working primarily in white collar industries. They either had no children or adult children from a previous relationship. All of them met their spouses or fiancees after the men had been sent to jail. This was the most interesting group of women because they didn't seem to mind that their husbands were behind bars and they were on the outside. They could afford the costs of visiting. Many of them couldn't even enjoy conjugal visits because their spouses are on death row or lifers. None of these women voiced that they thought their husbands/fiancees were innocent. They seemed to accept the fact that their spouse was locked up for something horrendous they did.
The next group were also, for the most part, self-sufficient, though some were lower on the socioeconomic scale then others. The men in this group had all been in jail at least once before and these women were choosing to stand by their men. This group seemed to be the most racially charged, believing that their men were behind bars because of their skin and not necessarily anything they did. These women tended to be very political and marched for different causes relating to their cases.
The last group were the typical women I think of when I think of jailhouse women (stereotypical, I know.) The wealthiest one made 35k a year (mere pennies in California) while most were subsisting on 5-10k. Some lost their places of residences when their spouse/fiancee/boyfriend was incarcerated--and all the men were incarcerated a lot of the time--and would wait until the eventual release of the male partner and start again. There were a lot of children in this particular group. The most surprising thing I found in this group were that many had been set up with their current squeeze by somebody in the inside, or a relative of the inmate. I can only imagine my initial thought if someone said they had someone that they knew I'd love--at the State Penitentiary. A lot of the women in this particular group rely on the correctional system as a "social agency of first response". They often commented on how much better it was when their men were locked away--both emotionally, financially, and physically. There's a lot of abuse in this particular group.
Of course, there were some important issues not raised at all in the book. For instance, there is the underground sex world that we on the outside hear about. This is not mentioned at all--about the fear that your inmate would pass on something deadly contracted inside the jail during your family visits. The only mention of "jail sex" was in a footnote mentioning that homosexual acts were illegal inside the jails in California.
Like stated at the beginning, overall I found the book to be very intriguing and quite interesting. I just wish the author would've had more of an unbias view. It should be noted somewhere that the women are doing this out of "free" will. No one is forcing them to abide by these rules and live like this. They are free to choose another partner with which to procreate and love. But, they haven't. And so they must abide by the rules set aside for them and that does not make them "secondary prisoners" in my opinion.
Author: Megan Comfort
Pages: 197
The subject matter of this book was how incarceration of males reaches out and touches the females in their lives--particularly, their wives, fiancees, or girlfriends. Overall, I thought the book was intriguing and quite interesting. However, there were some huge pitfalls.
For starters, the author made the women out to be "secondary prisoners" being held captive by the correctional system. In the first chapter, the holding area for visitors awaiting access to their inmates was described in great detail. Posters describing which items were not permitted into the jail, as well as what was appropriate to wear inside the compound was described at length. The author seemed aghast that the prison system would put such restrictions on the "freedom" of the women. Having never been to a jail to visit someone--as my life and those I choose to have around me tend to not run afoul of the law--even I knew what would constitute as inappropriate wear for a jail visit. See through clothes--nada. Skirts with slits higher than two inches above the knee--nope. Tank tops. Cleavage. Short shorts. You get the drift. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why these options are inappropriate for a place holding men who haven't seen a woman in a long, long time. What I failed to understand is that why was this such a big deal to the author? In every aspect of our lives--work, church, restaurants--we are essentially told what is appropriate and not appropriate. Why should jails be any different. It's for the protection of the woman. I don't feel that it's a way to undermine the female counterpart to the inmate.
Another issue that seemed to arise was the lack of things that could be taken in to the visit the inmate. This isn't summer camp. Mom can't bake you a cake and bring it in. There is a reason someone is behind bars. The author seemed to find that many women were distraught that they couldn't bring their loved one something home baked. Again...no need for a degree to figure this one out.
The third thing that irked me were the racial undertones, as though the prison system is made up of bigoted, racists who are out to get the minorities in the country. While I agree that some of that goes on--as it does in all other aspects of life--I can't quite get myself to believe that prisons are here solely for the purpose of ridding the streets of minorities, particularly black men.
So on to the good parts: There were three groups of women used in this extensive study. The first group of women were financially self-sufficient, working primarily in white collar industries. They either had no children or adult children from a previous relationship. All of them met their spouses or fiancees after the men had been sent to jail. This was the most interesting group of women because they didn't seem to mind that their husbands were behind bars and they were on the outside. They could afford the costs of visiting. Many of them couldn't even enjoy conjugal visits because their spouses are on death row or lifers. None of these women voiced that they thought their husbands/fiancees were innocent. They seemed to accept the fact that their spouse was locked up for something horrendous they did.
The next group were also, for the most part, self-sufficient, though some were lower on the socioeconomic scale then others. The men in this group had all been in jail at least once before and these women were choosing to stand by their men. This group seemed to be the most racially charged, believing that their men were behind bars because of their skin and not necessarily anything they did. These women tended to be very political and marched for different causes relating to their cases.
The last group were the typical women I think of when I think of jailhouse women (stereotypical, I know.) The wealthiest one made 35k a year (mere pennies in California) while most were subsisting on 5-10k. Some lost their places of residences when their spouse/fiancee/boyfriend was incarcerated--and all the men were incarcerated a lot of the time--and would wait until the eventual release of the male partner and start again. There were a lot of children in this particular group. The most surprising thing I found in this group were that many had been set up with their current squeeze by somebody in the inside, or a relative of the inmate. I can only imagine my initial thought if someone said they had someone that they knew I'd love--at the State Penitentiary. A lot of the women in this particular group rely on the correctional system as a "social agency of first response". They often commented on how much better it was when their men were locked away--both emotionally, financially, and physically. There's a lot of abuse in this particular group.
Of course, there were some important issues not raised at all in the book. For instance, there is the underground sex world that we on the outside hear about. This is not mentioned at all--about the fear that your inmate would pass on something deadly contracted inside the jail during your family visits. The only mention of "jail sex" was in a footnote mentioning that homosexual acts were illegal inside the jails in California.
Like stated at the beginning, overall I found the book to be very intriguing and quite interesting. I just wish the author would've had more of an unbias view. It should be noted somewhere that the women are doing this out of "free" will. No one is forcing them to abide by these rules and live like this. They are free to choose another partner with which to procreate and love. But, they haven't. And so they must abide by the rules set aside for them and that does not make them "secondary prisoners" in my opinion.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
What a Girl Needs
So I did something...daring...this morning. I hired a babysitter and went to a real salon and got my hair cut. Everything would've been perfect except for the phone call on my cell from dear hubby wondering why the neighbor kid answered our phone when he tried calling the house. Oops. Seems I forgot one important element...tell the babysitter not to answer the phone. :) Kidding. Only kidding.
So let me explain myself. As I've mentioned before I hate almost every haircut I get. I've tried to find somewhere economical to get my hair styled, but I leave with cutter's remorse nearly every time. I've tried to correct it there at the haircut place, but it never works. They end up having to take too much off and then I'm angry and disappointed.
It's been a while--like 3 or 4 months--since I last got my hair cut. But, it got ugly. It was ugly down. It was ugly up. It was ugly when I spent 2 minutes or 30 minutes on it. Most of the time I put it up in a haphazard ugly ponytail.
I'm not one that cares that much about my hair. Clearly. But when you're ballooning out in other parts and feeling frumpy (people still comment that I don't look pregnant...so I must look frumpy right? That would explain the swelling midsection that wasn't there 6 months ago), it helps to have decent hair. So I caved. Yesterday, I called the local salon and justified spending that kind of money on a hair cut. They booked me for this morning.
I was going to tell my dear, sweet, loving husband. Really. But last night got crazy and then he was stressed out about some church stuff and I didn't want to pipe up and say "oh, by the way, I'm hiring a babysitter and going to get my hair cut tomorrow at a real salon." And then I just forgot until this morning when I woke up and the babysitter was going to be here soon.
So the verdict. I loved the experience. The lady had cute hair herself, so I felt safe. She cut it exactly as she and I agreed upon. There were no surprises. As a bonus, I love the haircut too. It's almost exactly like the one I got this time last year and then everyone else showed up to church with the same cut and I was a little peeved. I mean, a couple of weeks for me to be my own person, come on. Out of four ladies on the street, at some point, three of us had the same haircut. That prompted the great cut off in January which almost ended my marriage. But alas, I digress.
So, it's back to the a-line cut that was so popular in the neighborhood last year and I personally loved. So, in essence, I love my haircut. Yay! Maybe it's a new leaf. Perhaps, it does pay to up the ante for a nice haircut every once in a while. In any case, it felt great to leave Josh for an hour and do something for myself.
And as Wade's parting words on the cell phone told me "have fun spending all my hard earned money."
So let me explain myself. As I've mentioned before I hate almost every haircut I get. I've tried to find somewhere economical to get my hair styled, but I leave with cutter's remorse nearly every time. I've tried to correct it there at the haircut place, but it never works. They end up having to take too much off and then I'm angry and disappointed.
It's been a while--like 3 or 4 months--since I last got my hair cut. But, it got ugly. It was ugly down. It was ugly up. It was ugly when I spent 2 minutes or 30 minutes on it. Most of the time I put it up in a haphazard ugly ponytail.
I'm not one that cares that much about my hair. Clearly. But when you're ballooning out in other parts and feeling frumpy (people still comment that I don't look pregnant...so I must look frumpy right? That would explain the swelling midsection that wasn't there 6 months ago), it helps to have decent hair. So I caved. Yesterday, I called the local salon and justified spending that kind of money on a hair cut. They booked me for this morning.
I was going to tell my dear, sweet, loving husband. Really. But last night got crazy and then he was stressed out about some church stuff and I didn't want to pipe up and say "oh, by the way, I'm hiring a babysitter and going to get my hair cut tomorrow at a real salon." And then I just forgot until this morning when I woke up and the babysitter was going to be here soon.
So the verdict. I loved the experience. The lady had cute hair herself, so I felt safe. She cut it exactly as she and I agreed upon. There were no surprises. As a bonus, I love the haircut too. It's almost exactly like the one I got this time last year and then everyone else showed up to church with the same cut and I was a little peeved. I mean, a couple of weeks for me to be my own person, come on. Out of four ladies on the street, at some point, three of us had the same haircut. That prompted the great cut off in January which almost ended my marriage. But alas, I digress.
So, it's back to the a-line cut that was so popular in the neighborhood last year and I personally loved. So, in essence, I love my haircut. Yay! Maybe it's a new leaf. Perhaps, it does pay to up the ante for a nice haircut every once in a while. In any case, it felt great to leave Josh for an hour and do something for myself.
And as Wade's parting words on the cell phone told me "have fun spending all my hard earned money."
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sensory Overload
We spent this weekend down in St. George. I, for the life of me, cannot figure out how people live there in the summer. It's like a very red, beautiful version of hell. I wonder if out-of-state tourists arrive in St. George, stunned by the magnificent scenery and step out of their nice, air conditioned cars to instantly fry in the motel parking lot. You'd think that at least, there would be some relief after the sun went down. Even hours after the sun went down. But no. It was still 100 degrees at 10:30 Friday night.
Now, I'm not stupid. I knew all this going in to the weekend. July is not exactly tourist season down south. But, nonetheless, this is where we found ourselves for a little getaway. Wade and one of his friends cooked up a plan to whisk their wives away for a nice weekend. We got tickets for Friday and Saturday nights at the little outdoor ampitheater that puts on some really great shows--this year it was Sound of Music and Les Miserables. Our friends took Friday night while we watched their 18 month old and we took Saturday night while they watched Josh. It was a good trade and a fun time for all, even the kids, who seemed to really like each other.
Saturday morning, the ladies went over to the outlet mall to do a little shopping. Since we're both expecting girls (Jamie in September, me in December) we "needed" to stock up on clothes for the babies. And of course, we had our sons to worry about. And there's always me--I deserve something don't I?
Wade's parting words to me were "shop as long as you would like. We'll be fine here." Of course, this implies "spend as much as you want", right? So off I went on a total shopping spree.
The first store we stopped at, I walked in and was instantly overwhelmed. I don't know how to shop for a girl. There's a lot that goes into picking out clothes for little girls. For starters, you certainly don't want them to look like a baby hooker. There are some clothes that don't translate well into little baby styles. Also, you have to take into account how chubby the little one might be. Of course, there's no telling how chubby baby's going to be until baby's born. There's definitely a lot more thinking that goes into buying little girl's clothes.
I was so overwhelmed in the first store I couldn't buy anything. So we left and went to the next store. I relaxed a little bit and found some really cute stuff for Josh. He's growing out of his shirts (5T!) and pants and he needed some new stuff for fall. I meandered over to the girls section to try again and finally, I got into my element. I found the cutest dress for next summer and some t-shirts. But I realized quickly my greatest flaw...I want to dress my little girl like me and it's hard finding cargo pants and t-shirts. Everything's pink.
The last store we stopped at, I found a pair of jeans for baby and some more shirts. Relenting on the "no pink" rule, I picked up a pink hoodie for the winter. It was too cute to pass up. I guess a little pink here and there won't kill me.
I was done for after about 2 hours of shopping--good thing as the guys called to see how much longer we were going to be. So much for "shop as long as you want." All in all, I found some really cute girl stuff, but I'm still a little overwhelmed by all the stuff out there. Tights? Bracelets? Dresses? Jumpers? Bicycle shorts?
Now, I'm not stupid. I knew all this going in to the weekend. July is not exactly tourist season down south. But, nonetheless, this is where we found ourselves for a little getaway. Wade and one of his friends cooked up a plan to whisk their wives away for a nice weekend. We got tickets for Friday and Saturday nights at the little outdoor ampitheater that puts on some really great shows--this year it was Sound of Music and Les Miserables. Our friends took Friday night while we watched their 18 month old and we took Saturday night while they watched Josh. It was a good trade and a fun time for all, even the kids, who seemed to really like each other.
Saturday morning, the ladies went over to the outlet mall to do a little shopping. Since we're both expecting girls (Jamie in September, me in December) we "needed" to stock up on clothes for the babies. And of course, we had our sons to worry about. And there's always me--I deserve something don't I?
Wade's parting words to me were "shop as long as you would like. We'll be fine here." Of course, this implies "spend as much as you want", right? So off I went on a total shopping spree.
The first store we stopped at, I walked in and was instantly overwhelmed. I don't know how to shop for a girl. There's a lot that goes into picking out clothes for little girls. For starters, you certainly don't want them to look like a baby hooker. There are some clothes that don't translate well into little baby styles. Also, you have to take into account how chubby the little one might be. Of course, there's no telling how chubby baby's going to be until baby's born. There's definitely a lot more thinking that goes into buying little girl's clothes.
I was so overwhelmed in the first store I couldn't buy anything. So we left and went to the next store. I relaxed a little bit and found some really cute stuff for Josh. He's growing out of his shirts (5T!) and pants and he needed some new stuff for fall. I meandered over to the girls section to try again and finally, I got into my element. I found the cutest dress for next summer and some t-shirts. But I realized quickly my greatest flaw...I want to dress my little girl like me and it's hard finding cargo pants and t-shirts. Everything's pink.
The last store we stopped at, I found a pair of jeans for baby and some more shirts. Relenting on the "no pink" rule, I picked up a pink hoodie for the winter. It was too cute to pass up. I guess a little pink here and there won't kill me.
I was done for after about 2 hours of shopping--good thing as the guys called to see how much longer we were going to be. So much for "shop as long as you want." All in all, I found some really cute girl stuff, but I'm still a little overwhelmed by all the stuff out there. Tights? Bracelets? Dresses? Jumpers? Bicycle shorts?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
