This has to be the longest time span between posts. It's been busy as hell around here, and I barely have time to read blogs let alone actually type on my own. But I've finished issuing invitations for Sockamania, have done a bit of knitting, and have worked on the shop for a while, so I think I'm justified in taking some time to let all of you know the fun and games which constitute my life.
Let's start with the prison, shall we? You all know that we've traded the outhouse which doubles as a motel for a real hotel (notice the change in the first letter of those words). This place is nice. It used to be the Holiday Inn (when I was driving across the country, I always tried to stay in those... they're clean, pretty safe, and all the same, so you know exactly what you're getting), but the La Quinta people have updated it. We have a balcony, a sitting area, a very comfy bed, and a shower with a head set high enough that Hubster can take a shower without whacking his face on it. I'd like to stay an extra day, but when I stop to think about it, why? I lived there for 14 years; I know everything that's in Sacramento. To be honest, there's nothing there which I want to see badly enough to fork over another night's cost. This time, however, we ran into a problem when we went to check in.
Hubster went to the desk, gave them his card, got our keys, and we went upstairs to flop in our room. We had gotten there late - it was well after midnight - so we were both spent. Then the phone rang. Huh? I answered it and found it was the front desk. There was a problem - our card had been declined. Did we have another credit card? Well no... we didn't. Hubster got all wound up and started yelling about my not bringing my purse. I never bring my purse. Why was he yelling? So he stomped downstairs and tried to pay with cash. Get this - THEY DON'T TAKE CASH. It's happened. We're living in a society where cash is obsolete. So he tried calling Wells Fargo. They told him that they didn't have anybody there who could help him, and that we'd have to call in the morning. It was looking like we'd have to spend the night in the truck, and I badly needed a shower. Hubster finally got the clerk to accept our card and forked over some buckolas. I couldn't believe it. Then last night, we went out to dinner and the card was declined. AGAIN. He's hot and on the phone with them right now. This is getting ridiculous. It's embarrassing. It's humiliating. It's a major pain in the ass.
By the time this soap opera had finished, it was about 1:00 a.m. I had so wanted to knit, but I was tired. Really tired. I wound up getting about three hours of sleep before I had to get up and take a shower. As usual, I was late getting there. But when I did, my boys were patrolling the yard waiting for me. We got into the chapel without incident.
This class was really terrific. We're starting on the jazz portion, and the guys are really excited to be working on it. From time to time, I give little speeches (I have no idea why - something takes over and my mouth begins flapping). We have a new guy in the group, and for some reason, I started talking about gangs, how stupid I thought they were, how there's a way to do good time vs. bad time, etc. I kept staring at him. After the class, he came up to talk to me and learn a bit about what we were doing. It turns out that he's a Crip. Oh geez. Open mouth, insert foot. My guys are trying to flip him to join the skins (as they call Indians). It's dangerous, so I expect some sort of fireworks in the next month. All I know is that I'd better keep my siren handy in case something bad happens.
The lovely thing about this time is that each man hugged me when I got there (we hug inside the chapel; they can't hug me outside) and told me how much they missed me. When we went to leave, they all hugged me and told me they loved me. It was a deeply touching moment. They've finally opened up all the way. One of them ran up to me, stuck some papers in my music book, and sat down. It turns out they were drawings he had done, and he wrote a little blurb on the back of each one. These guys don't open up very often and don't share the details of their crimes. But they're doing that with me; it's amazing.
Then there's the shop. I've been fighting with the post office and finally decided to just send out replacement packages. That having been done, now I'm free to work on the shop itself. Slowly but surely, I'm getting vendors listed (finally). One of them sold a skein of yarn within 15 minutes of having been listed. It looks like the ads I have running on Ravelry and Google are paying off. Things are looking good, I'm still adding vendors and getting some new ones, and should be completely caught up with adding vendors by the end of the week. I had some trouble with one vendor who is no longer with me, but that's okay. I don't fault her, nor do I fault myself. She was just expecting something different than what I could do. Shit happens.
We went over to my mom's house during the week for Mother's Day, and our daughter told me that she drove by our old house in Sacramento when she was there to visit a friend. Somebody has purchased it. I didn't know how to feel about it. Part of me was really sad; part of me was happy that someone was taking care of it the way it should be taken care of. I spoke to a dear friend of mine whom I met through my blog, and she had some really good things to say. It's sort of like a death, though. I'm grieving, and it hurts. But maybe it's the closure I needed. Maybe now I can move on. I don't know - time will tell. I do know that I'm crying at weird times during the day and keep thinking that a part of me had always hoped we could go home. Stupid and unreasonable, I know, but the heart is a strange thing. It hopes for things that the mind knows will never happen. So that's it. Our ties to Sacramento have been cut. We've asked our landlord to look for a house for us here. I'd like to try and buy something before the housing slump ends because, if it does, we're fucked. I always think that everything happens for a reason and that we'll end up where we're supposed to be, but it's hard to have faith when you had the American dream in your hands, thought you'd die in a certain house, and then it's ripped away from you. A part of me died when we left. It'll never come back, because that was truly my dream home. Sigh.
Then there's the diabetes. I have to have another blood test in about six weeks to see if I'll have to take the needle or can just control it by diet and exercise. Oh great. I don't eat veggies and can't exercise because of the joint degeneration. I tried swimming the other day during the heat wave; while the water was cold, I was able to swim a little. But I had to fight off yellow jackets and was afraid to lounge in my floatie because of them. I have to figure out a way to get rid of them by the pool. We have ivy growing like crazy by the deep end of the pool; it's coming from the neighbor's yard behind us. I'm buying several large containers of Roundup and killing every bit of it, including the plant it's coming from. I'll have to dump that shit on the plant at night when they're asleep so they don't see me do it. I know the little buggers hang out in the ivy, so maybe that will help cut down on the number of them.
All in all, it's been a hectic week, but quiet at the same time. I haven't left the house; I've been chained to my chair and the computer. I told Hubster I want an English Bulldog for my birthday gift, but that's not going to happen. They're too expensive, and I kind of feel guilty buying another dog while Puppy is alive. But if he surprises me with one, I won't give it back. I'm secretly hoping for a trip to Vegas or Reno. I'd love to get away for a few days and just kick back. It is my 50th, after all, and I feel that this is a big birthday. We should do something to celebrate or mourn. We'll see what the old man comes up with; he's superb at coming up with surprises.
Time to go knit for a while before I get back to work on the shop. It's cooler out today, so I can start working on it earlier in the day than I have been. My "office" is the dining room table, and I sit right in front of a large picture window. Now that I have the laptop, I can sit in my chair and work on it, but I need to transfer all the pictures to it or some such thing. That's Hubster's department. Me, I just turn the thing on. I haven't had time to look at the tutorials (all online) to even see what software I have. Hubster has also partitioned the disk to put some other operating system on it, too. Don't ask me - I just type.
I bet I'll fall asleep and drool all over the damn thing, though.
Oh... one last thing. I want to say how pleased I am that the California Supreme Court came out with the decision to allow same sex partners to wed. It's about damn time. Love is love, no matter what sex you and your partner are. I've seen much more committed and long-term relationships in the gay community than I have in the straight community. Why shouldn't everybody be allowed to receive the benefits and protections offered to married couples? And think about this:
The vast majority of child molesters are straight people.
That kind of takes the air out of that argument, doesn't it?
You go, boy. Or girl. Or whomever.