You know how some weeks start out badly, giving you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach because you just know that things are going to get worse? Well...
We've stopped going to Folsom the night before prison day for two reasons: we can't afford spending $100 every other week for a hotel room, and we don't like the idea of leaving Emma home alone for that long. We decided that taking her with us to a hotel isn't feasible right now. Even though she's potty trained, she still has accidents; I don't want her to pee on the bed during the night. We also take her out every four hours or so to go potty (and to allow her to roll in the grass), which is kind of difficult to do when you're in a hotel. Anyway, it's turned out to be easier leaving the same morning as I'll be in the prison, and Emma does just fine in her playpen for the day.
So yesterday, we headed out at about 5:15 a.m.. Traffic was light; I managed to stay awake for the entire trip; the weather was lovely. We got there, I got my crap out of the truck, and Hubster took off. After I got up to the guard shack, I saw that Bill wasn't there. I called him and found out that something was wrong in the cellblock - nobody was on the yard, and there were guards prowling about. Bill said he would try to find out what was going on and would come get me. In the meantime, I sat on a bench and waited.
When he came to get me, he had bad news. Something had happened (although none of the guards would tell him exactly what), and the block appeared to be on lockdown. He suggested that I call Hubster and have him pick me up. That would have been fine except for two reasons: I couldn't remember his phone number, and his phone didn't have any bars showing; hence, no power. I was stuck at the prison for two hours with no ciggies, no shade, no nothing. Bill bought me breakfast, said goodbye, and I was on my own.
I sat out in the sun wondering how in the hell I was going to survive for two hours until Hubster came back; I was craving a ciggie something horrible. In fact, I asked everybody who walked past me if they were a smoker (nobody was). Then I found out how I was going to spend the time. A great deal of it was spent falling asleep and catching myself as I rocked forward on the bench. Then it happened, and right in front of a group of inmates who were tending the grounds.
I fell flat on my face.
Apparently, I fell asleep, rocked forward, and didn't wake up in time to catch myself. What made matters worse is that I had a sundress on. All I know is that I was being lifted in the air by five inmates, all of whom looked really concerned. They sat me back on the bench and crowded around, asking if I was okay and if I needed anything (yeah, I needed a ciggie, but I don't think any of them were holding). Then a guard came charging down the walkway, yelling at the inmates to get away from me and asking if they had molested me. I calmed Rambo down, thanked the men, and noted (thankfully) that it was almost 11:00 a.m. Then Hubster FINALLY showed up, and we headed for home. I lasted as long as it took to get to the gas station; then I don't remember a thing until Hubster said we were home. Emma was beside herself with happiness when we walked in the door. I'll have some pictures to bore you with in a little while.
I've been trying to get an update for the shop done for a week now, but I keep falling asleep or being so weak that I can't move. I have high hopes for tonight, even though I already feel sleepy. I also hurt. Why?
I fell flat on my face. Again.
This time, it happened out in front of the dentist's office. I went today to get that damned bottom partial adjusted so I can wear it. Hubster went outside about halfway through the appointment; when it was over, I headed out to the truck. I was walking next to the truck on one of those raised cement curb bumpers when my ankle folded in half. I tried to catch myself, but when you weigh as much as I do, it's difficult to do. I went down on the curb and hit the parking lot, scraping up my left calf pretty good. I also scratched up my ring (sigh); back to Lance's to have him buff it out and check the setting. I began banging on the truck because Hubster didn't come right out. It turns out that he was snoring away, but he finally heard my screaming and banging and ran outside. After picking me up, he stuffed me in the seat, looked at my leg oozing blood, and took off for the gas station to get me something to drink (if I'm drinking, I'm not crying). Then he cleaned it up when we got home. Now my teeth and leg hurt. Shit.
As many of you know, I'm participating in the Secret Pal 12 swap. I got a package from my pal the other day full of goodies. One in particular uh... stood out. Our camera just died, so I won't have a picture of it until later. She made it for me after making sure that I wouldn't be offended (me? I make obscene phone callers weep). No, it's not a cock pillow, but close. I'll post the whole bunch of gifts later, too. She's a doll - I couldn't have asked for a better pal.
OK... time to bore you with Emma.
Emma in her bed with her toys.
Emma on the couch.
Emma sneaking up on Mommy.
What Mommy saw when she looked down from her knitting (that white thing at the bottom of the picture is Mommy's white leg).
The other lovely thing that happened is that I was making a swap gift for another swap pal when I fell asleep (this was last night, shortly after I looked down and saw those little fangs). When I woke up this morning, about half of the stitches had dropped off the needle. Bear in mind that I was using Addis - large Addis (size 10-1/2) - which I'm not used to using (I use size 1 in wood these days), so I had forgotten how slippery they are. I looked, horrified, at the mess which was formerly a difficult sequence of stitches per row. It took well over an hour just to sort the thing out and another hour to put it all back together again. Sigh.
So tonight, I'll be using Bento (the new program which has a cool spreadsheet) to log in all the new vendors which I hope to include in the shop update in the next day or two. I had hoped to have this done a week ago, but as I said earlier... Let's hope that everything goes well.
Oh... I have a comment to make. One of my vendors, Drooling Over Yarn, had another fiber artist call her work "a hobby". She was deeply hurt by this, as Laura takes her work very seriously and does an outstanding job on her yarn. In fact, she was chummed by L&V today. I have a large amount of her yarn in my shop and am proud to carry it. So to this fiber artist (I don't know who it is), maybe you should think about how you would feel if someone looked at your work and said, "That's a nice little hobby you have". I doubt that you'd be very happy about it.
I have now done my Public Service Announcement for the week.