There have been no updates since the dolls left Hodgkins, Illinois at noon our time yesterday, but I’m keeping track. Tom sent me the email with the link for tracking it. It’s cool to be able to watch their progress. I can’t wait! I look so forward to getting these dolls.

Over the next few months, I’m still going to go ahead and get Mei Lin, Felicity and the Apache Woman. The only question is, do I get just one set of ballerinas and Dalene? Or all the ballerinas and no Dalene? I’m definitely going to work on getting the 3 or 4 Ashton dolls I want after getting Apache Woman. They’re so, so nice. I just wish they weren’t so expensive. They’re in between a cheap PG doll and a Bailey/Joy-type doll. It seems all their $70 - $80 dolls have stayed the same price, but the $100 dolls are now $130. Anyway, there’s another Indian woman and an Indian child I’d like. Also, a ballerina and a bride doll that’s really nice.

Another thing about Ashton is that I always got what I saw, but some of PG’s dolls didn’t quite look as good in person, except for one of them, which actually looked better.

I was thinking about all the shit the Indians and blacks went through years and years ago, and while they both got shit on big time, the Indians sure did handle it better. They moved on and didn’t harbor so much anger over the years as the black bums did. They didn’t join gangs, start riots, make a life of welfare, or cry racism when they’d have problems with others. Using race as a crutch for them is as rare as an infertile Mexican.

It just dawned on me that Scot has dropped one of his lines. He’s always had 3 lines. The one where he asks if I’m up to date on my payments, the one where he either asks or tells me how much time I have left, then the one where he says he’ll try to catch me at the house. Well, he hasn’t said that last one lately. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see. I just hate the forced ass-kissing routine I gotta go through. If I had to kiss his ass for a doll, that’d be one thing, but to kiss his ass over this shit is another.

Later…

Still no updates after yesterday’s Illinois departure. I don’t know if the truck’s been moving or not since, but it better be moving somewhat if they want to make the scheduled delivery date of Monday the 4th. Tom says they’re pretty reliable, but we’ll see. You know how it is when I get dolls. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if one of the trucks broke down, a driver got ill, etc. There shouldn’t be any problem finding the house, though, cuz UPS does come out here regularly and they should have maps. With the furniture people, it was different. Furniture doesn’t come out here as often as packages do.

Even Jumbo has a missing leg, I just noticed. He’s missing a leg and Crabby’s missing a claw. I wonder what Hermy’s missing? I haven’t seen much of that one. It’s a pretty shy crab. They haven’t been very active, either. Hopefully, they’ll liven up a bit with just another day or two of adjusting to their new home.

It’s a lovely day for open windows. The front of the house is slightly warm and the back is slightly cool.

I forgot to mention that about a week ago I chased a little black dog and a medium black dog onto next door’s land. Tom says they weren’t theirs and that they have two little dogs which are so afraid of the world, they’d never leave their land, but I’m sure they were theirs. Tom’s always quick to defend a neighbor anyway.

It’s awfully hypocritical of them to let their dogs run around loose on other people’s property after they were so worried that it might’ve been our dogs that killed their chickens when we first moved in. What if we or someone else had a chicken coop? Would it be okay for their dogs to waltz onto someone else’s land and kill any animals they might have?

It still really bothers me that I can’t make dolls, though it doesn’t surprise me. Since when have I ever had control over my own life anyway? I tell myself that being bored is better than being in jail, but you know, being bored and being in jail shouldn’t be my only two choices!

Just changed the betta’s water.

The only new rule/demand Scot informed us of was that he wants his Stanfield/Maricopa people to report on the first and third Wednesdays of each month, and his Casa Grande people to report on the second and fourth Wednesdays, so there goes our choice as to which Wednesday we see him. This was when I muttered about it being a shame that at $40 a month, we can’t have some say as to what goes on, and oh, it felt so good to say that! I know Scot heard me too, even though he didn’t comment. In fact, he didn’t even mention how much time I have left! Or about seeing me at home. Just that we still have two months before we switch over to Casa Grande as if that’s any real consolation.

After we left, Tom pointed out that the good in us going on those set weeks is that we won’t have to wait in line forever. No, but I’ll still have to endure the humiliation between January and March. In fact, I’m so sure of it that I didn’t bother to report today with a full bladder.

He gave us next year’s schedule. It was nice reading the part where those reporting on certain dates in November and December had to report before noon as the office was to close early, knowing I’d be done before then. Done with these freeloaders for good! I’m gonna do everything they told me not to do, too. I’m not going to do drugs, of course, but I’m gonna get a gun and a 4-pack of wine coolers. I’m not going to vote, though, cuz I never cared to anyway. Nor will I ever do jury duty.

Then, when God replaces the freeloaders with other neighbors tormenting us, we’ll handle it right this time by either sitting back and taking it or getting the fuck out of here.

I still have to remind myself that what happened to me wasn’t my fault as far as the freeloaders/court goes. Just like a rape victim who knows it’s not her fault, she still tends to blame herself – if only I hadn’t worn this, if only I hadn’t said this, etc. Well, I have to remind myself that I never did anything to deserve this shit other than making a reasonable complaint and being Jewish.

Of course, Scot didn’t test me yet he had all the opportunity in the world in which to do so. The judge wasn’t even there, so the bathroom, which is off the judge’s office, was totally available. Why should he test me, though, when he knows he can just wait to do it when someone can gawk at me? The question then will be, will that really be the last one, or will he take advantage of the female eyes he’ll have handy in Casa Grande and do more tests? I guess I can believe it’ll be my last one, though, since my tests are always clean and since he’s kept his word thus far about the tests getting less frequent over time as they kept coming back clean. It wouldn’t make sense to have a year in between clean tests, then do one just a few months later. Tom doesn’t think the test will be in January, though. He thinks it’ll be more like February or March. I hope it is February or March because then there’ll be less time to do more tests if he does get it in mind to go back on his word and do so, but at the same time, I just want to get it over with!

I’d prefer to snap my fingers and have it be this time next year, but I’d settle for April. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to survive the next year! I just want this shit over with once and for all! I just want to get on with my life! I’ve been wanting to get on with it, yet no one will let me. How can I ever move on if these people are going to have a hold on me and be allowed to victimize me year after year? The only difference is that they’ve been victimizing me through the courts for the last few years.

After Scot’s and before Circle K, we stopped at the PO. As expected, Tasha wasn’t in, but the sewing machine was. I told him there’d be no problem with a non-doll-related package. Tom’s going to call PG if Tasha’s not in by Monday. I am so fed up with them! I still don’t get why they can’t just send me the dolls we order. Why does it always have to be such a big deal for them?

I’m going to wait till Tom’s awake and available to go over the new sewing machine with me. It’s so small and lightweight! Only the big one with the adapter (though it can also use batteries) and other accessories came today. The palm-size portable one is still on its way. I still think it would be best if I had his mother available to walk me through my first few outfits. It’d be quicker and easier to have an expert on hand to guide me through the beginning.

Tom’s on vacation next week, then again in mid-December. That’s when I’ll be going to the doctor for prescription refills and ear referrals. I’m still not bothering with a pap, since I trust my instinct. I’m sure that intuition would tell me if something was wrong with my female parts and I’d probably have some symptoms, too.

I had to snort up a while ago. Oh, well. I should still need to see the doctor only every other year if I go 8 months in between the 3 referrals unless a new problem arises. The nasal sprays he gives me could easily last two years at the rate I’ve been taking them. If my inhalers run out before then, I can always get something over the counter.

Of course, there’s always the possibility that female or health problems of some kind are going to be my next curse since it wouldn’t be too convenient for God to bring neighborly trouble to a house sitting on a 10-acre lot that’ll be fenced-in by then. Anything to get me out of the house regularly. I’ve always got to have appointments.

Another good thing to look forward to next year, besides expunging the freeloaders from our lives forever, is going to Kingman! I hope the doll selection there is as good as I think it is. It should be several times bigger than JBS’s Mesa store. We decided to stop by there with the truck we hope to have by then on our way to Laughlin. We haven’t been to Laughlin since late ’96.

Later…

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I can’t believe what I just saw out the window! Little Ratsy’s still alive! I’m absolutely astounded since she’s been out there a month. Maybe she’s survived because it’s cooler and the snakes are hibernating. Anyway, she’d never let me pick her up any more than she would when she was in here, but I saw her running to get some bread I threw out, along with some birds and bunnies. I put the water bowl back out there and threw out some salad and seeds. Then I got a damn good lizard picture. I just can’t believe a bird hasn’t gotten her. It’d be awesome if she got pregnant by some wild rat and if we could have a bunch of wild Fancy rats running around the land, but I don’t know about that one. She looks pretty healthy, though.

Anyway, I redid the letter Teddy Bear’s sure to never receive, but I’ll send it in any way. I shortened it a bit and restructured some of it. It’s a page and a half. I’ll make sure to ask Mary to ditch the first one so she doesn’t get the two confused if TB ever did show up, though I dated it.

I’m on days now and fell asleep in the early evening last night. Tom said that afterward, he could hear the crabs bustling about.

He also said he wouldn’t expect to see an update on Victoria and Karen’s progress till Saturday when they should be in Phoenix by then.

He picked up weather stripping for the front door, quarter-round trim for the skylight, and numbers for the front corner of the house by where we drive in. This should hopefully make it even easier for UPS, though UPS has been out here before with no problem.

It seems our voice messaging was scrambled for a bit yesterday. We got a couple of messages left for someone else, and they no doubt got the messages I left for Tom cuz he didn’t get them. It seems to be okay now.

Dear Teddy Bear,

Hi there. How are you? I hope you’re as well as can be. I’m sending this to Mary to give you if you ever return to Estrella while she’s still there. I didn’t want to risk sending another letter to you and getting you in trouble.

I’d like to think that the reason I never heard from you is that you didn’t get my letter and you lost the number that I gave you in jail, but I think it’s safe to assume you probably did get my letter. First of all, I want you to know I have absolutely no hard feelings towards you at all, but Teddy Bear, you have no idea how shocked and hurt I was to be ignored by you! After all, you seemed so for real, so sincere. I’d hate to think I was just one big joke to you all along. A simple little phone call or letter would’ve been nice, to let me know you wouldn’t be seeing me, but now I’m left to forever wonder what happened. Not only that, but I worked really hard at trying to breed you the mice you said you liked, so not hearing from you made me feel rather unappreciated.

Teddy Bear, you really had quite an impact on me! Not even I realized it at first. You see Teddy Bear, it wasn’t just about attraction. I fell in love with you. You may be wondering how this could’ve happened since I barely knew you, but I know how I felt. I still do too, and maybe I always will. I know I could never forget you, that’s for sure. I believe one knows when they love someone and when they don’t and there was no denying how I felt for you. You really don’t need to know someone forever or like a book in order to love them, trust me. Yeah, ich liebe dich, Teddy Bear, and I know what that means, even though Ida tried to confuse me at first and tell me it meant ‘how are you.’

I also knew you could never love me back and that I couldn’t just throw away 8 years of marriage, so if that’s the reason you decided not to see me (because I’m married or living so far away), or because you met someone else, I understand and accept this, but again, it would’ve been nice if you could’ve at least let me know. Or at least acknowledged my letter and simply told me you couldn’t make it.

I looked so, so forward to seeing you as often as possible and getting to know you. I had so much to tell and show you. I wanted to share my book with you, do email back and forth, learn your first name, what your life was like, etc,

What happened, Teddy Bear??? Did you meet someone along the way? Did you decide I live too far away to bother with? Is it me? Did I do or say something to make you hate me? It’d mean a lot to me if you could call or write and let me know what happened, no matter what the reason may be. I will accept and respect whatever it is, which is all I can do anyway, then we could continue on our separate ways. If you met someone, I hope she treats you well. You deserve the best. You’re a good person and I want you to be happy. It would deeply sadden me if I knew you weren’t. I’m by far a people person, Teddy Bear. I don’t take to just anyone and open up to just anyone. I trusted you. You were a very smart, easy-going person with a great sense of humor. How could anyone not love you? If it’s something I said or did that may’ve either offended you or got you in trouble, I am so very, very sorry and this was certainly not my intention.

Mary was the one who told me she heard you were at Madison. She contacted me about a month after my release, asking if I’d help her write a book, though I may have already told you this, then we just unexpectedly became pen pals from there. Don’t worry, no one else knows about this but Tom.

I believe things happen for a reason, and in the end, I thought you were the main reason I was meant to be there, but no, the main reason was that I lodged a city complaint against the wrong person with the wrong connections and because I was Jewish. They were everything they accused me of being – hateful, vindictive bigots. They turned it into a racial issue and cried racism all because of my complaint and because they were Muslims and Muslims often hate Jews. In case you care to know the story – Tom and I had a house in Phoenix. The people next door to us moved out, the city took ownership of the house, then a black/Muslim family moved in on Section 8. Only the woman and her kid were supposed to live there, but she had her boyfriend living there too, and a dog, also not allowed. I know the rules, Teddy Bear, because I was in projects myself back east back when I was getting SSI and was on disability because of my ear. I also have ADHD which means I get hyper and have trouble sleeping/concentrating.

So, in they moved in ‘96 and then the trouble began – non-stop cars coming and going at all hours of the day, music blaring so loud that the stuff on our furniture practically vibrated, trash in our yard, sexual notes in our mailbox slot. Like a fool, I never saved the notes that we received after politely asking them to tone it down. I figured they were stupid, childish notes and I wasn’t going to waste my time getting hot and bothered by them. I just wanted to ignore them, though most of the time they wouldn’t let me.

But we were getting fed up with the noise. We considered calling the cops but decided not to because we knew the cops couldn’t be there to monitor them 24/7 and that as soon as the cops left they’d be up to the same old shit. We needed to contact someone with a little more leverage than that, so we sent a letter to the city. It helped for a while and the boyfriend moved out and the barking dog disappeared. After a few months of peace and them not making their business ours and invading our house with the sound of their every move, they were back at it again, so we sent another city letter. This caused them to be evicted which wasn’t our intention. We just wanted them to shut up and leave us alone! But they wouldn’t, so they had to go. We wanted to move too, because of my asthma and because we wanted out of the city, but weren’t in a position to do so till a few months after they moved in ’99.

Meanwhile, when they were harassing us, I wanted to settle things with my fists, that’s how mad I was, but Tom made me promise I wouldn’t. So in exchange, I was going to send them “a piece of my mind” and go the non-violent way. I’ve been keeping journals since ’87 and I sent them parts of it, which of course were non-racial and non-threatening. Meanwhile, it would turn out that the woman would have a cop friend, also a bigot, who spited against me on her behalf by typing up a threatening letter. Then, when he got me in to interrogate me, he asked, “Have you seen this?” Then he handed me the letter, and not knowing any better, I took hold of it. Well, figure it out, Teddy Bear. That’s how he got my prints on it.

I must’ve had you confused at first, what with how I bitching about others hitting on me just to turn around and go flirting with you like I did! I’d have told you sooner than I did that I had a crush on you, but I was afraid to. It’s not that I was shy or ashamed for we can’t help how we feel. It’s just that I didn’t know what your reaction would be and if I remember correctly, you were the one with the can of mace, not me. But I have no qualms about telling you – I adored all 5 feet 10 inches of you. You were so vibrant, so full of life and energy. I loved your eyes, too. There was just something about them and the sound of your voice, and okay, I’ll admit you looked just fine in uniform!

So you can just imagine how cursed I feel what with being thrown in jail for something I didn’t do, then to have met and fallen for you only to end up never hearing from you! It really makes a person feel like something up there hates them, and furthermore, even if I was 100% guilty, no one should go to jail for something they wrote, and besides, actions speak louder than words. I can see if it was to a kid or many mailings, but guilty or innocent, I never should’ve been there and we never should’ve met, but we did meet. I wonder, Teddy Bear, do you ever think of me? Do you ever remember me from time to time? Remember things like our “dead friends” misunderstanding?

Anyway, I do hope to hear from you someday. I don’t know, maybe now’s not a good time for you and maybe you can call me sometime in the future, though sooner would be better. Or maybe you can tell Mary and she can tell me if you’d prefer not to call or write. I hope this letter, if you ever get it, doesn’t piss you off or make you uncomfortable in any way. I just wish I could understand what happened, that’s all. I’ll enclose my email, number and address. If I hear from you, great. If not, I wish you nothing but the best, my sweet Teddy Bear, and I promise I’ll never forget you. I hope you will never forget me, either. I’ll never stop wondering what happened if I don’t hear from you and am very sorry things have turned out the way they have. I certainly won’t count on it, but I do hope to hear from you one day.

Love Always, Dawn

Just one more year with the freeloaders, just one more. At first I started to fall into my usual thought process, but what if they and or the state prolong things? What if they do something else?

But then I said, no, next year is going to be it no matter what cuz I’m going to make it be it, even if they don’t want it to be it. One year from today will be the day I take my life back and when no one but Jodi says what happens to her. It won’t mean that I’ll be able to decide I want a million dollars and make it suddenly appear. It won’t mean that I’ll be able to jump to the moon if I suddenly desire to. It simply means that no one will ever again tell me where to go, what to do or how to live as far as a reasonable, general, everyday kind of way goes. I can’t fight fate and I can’t stop God from stopping me from doing some of the things I’d like to do in life, but you know what I mean.

Meanwhile, I gotta wonder – what kind of bombshell will Scot drop on me this Friday? Will I have to hear about the classes? Or just reminded of how much time I have left? The Casa Grande stress still hasn’t returned, but I don’t yet know why. Maybe it’s simply because I know that as long as I’m not going to wash my hands clean of this bullshit and walk away, I’m going to have to face the humiliation.

I’m just so sick of getting shit on by people in general! One of these days I’m going to surprise them and fling the shit right back in their faces!

I should’ve known something was up when Paul kept referring to the journals as “letters.” When we were all calling them letters I automatically assumed we were doing so cuz that’s a generic, overall term for sent mail. I thought it went without saying that we were all talking about the journals and not this damn letter, even though we were referring to them as letters.

Speaking of letters, I got 2 letters from Mary yesterday and was heartbroken over Todd’s dumping on her. She apparently got a letter from Todd’s “girlfriend.” She sent the letter to Todd with nothing else and then took down his pictures. I was also pissed. You could say he’s another one I could add to my list that I wouldn’t mind having 5 minutes alone with.

Anyway, I am so, so sorry for her, and yes, I know the pain of a broken heart. Teddy Bear taught me all too well, I’m afraid, but I can just imagine that the pain I went through on account of being blown off by her was nothing compared to what she went through. Teddy Bear and I didn’t really have a chance to get much started, but she and Todd go way back, so I can see how hurt she must be. For whatever it’s worth, I told her, she’ll get used to it with age. Losing friends/lovers does get easier with time. I wish there was something I could say/do to ease her pain, but unfortunately, it’s just going to have to run its own course and work itself out in its own time, and it will. Time really does heal all wounds, and while she may never forget Todd anymore than I’ll ever forget Teddy Bear, it will get easier to deal with. Time’s her best friend right now. She’s also too young to be closing doors on the many different opportunities that may present themselves once she’s free. I also wouldn’t rule out the possibility of being with a woman someday, but if it’s not her cup of tea, it’s not her cup of tea. My point was – keep an open mind. I also told her that anytime she needs a shoulder to cry on, she’s very welcome to use mine. There’ll be times when I’ll be crying on her shoulder, too!

Damn that bastard for wasting 3 stamps of mine for those convent excerpts she wanted to send to him!

This is when I wonder how she can believe and trust in God. How could he let this happen to her on top of everything else she’s been through? And doesn’t she feel ignored when she prays? She’s into yoga now which seems to help a lot more than anything, from what she’s told me. I’m sure writing and listening to music helps, too.

When I first pulled out what she enclosed in her letter, I was like, why is she sending me, of all people, religious stuff? Well, it’s based on religion, but it’s not. It’s actually a book of inspirational poems and she dedicated a really nice friendship poem to me, telling me she loves me and appreciates what I do for her. Yeah, if there’s one person who would never take what I do for granted, it’s definitely her. I know she cares and is as grateful as I am to her for being my friend, my pen pal, and for doing me favors like investigating a certain someone we both know. In fact, I think I’m going to redo that certain someone’s letter and shorten it a bit, even if that certain someone will probably never get it.

I wonder if Pérez will ever return so she can find out for sure whether or not she got my regular mail.

In email news, she asked me to send a few pages to her friend Shirley, but I just attached the whole book file. I thought it crashed at one point and I ended up sending it twice.

She said she’s had a miserable time going to court and all for nothing. There’ll be nothing else going on till January, either. As I told her, I’ve heard that going to court is a miserable ordeal. And how asinine it is to be pulled 6-7 hours before court! I’m glad I never had to do that. I had enough shit to go through as it was.

The prairie dogs are completely gone now. I haven’t seen any. Haven’t heard any hunters on weekends, either. Just during the Labor Day weekend and the weekend after that. There were a few sonic booms yesterday.

I decided what weight I want to get down to next year which is 105. If I lost 10 pounds and got down to 115, it’d make a huge difference overall at my height, but it’d make even more of a difference in the face, neck and chest if I got to 105. It won’t be easy, but unless I change my mind and decide to stay as I am between now and after New Year’s, I’ll do it.

My hair is now to the crack of my ass. Maybe ¼ inch away still. It’s such a bitch. If it were thin and straight, that’d be one thing, but I get so sick of it that I think about cutting it to my shoulders. I know I will within the next few years for sure.

The day I sent out Paula’s letter, which was Monday, she left a message by phone saying she didn’t know what was going on, she wasn’t receiving email or regular mail from me. Also, to let her know if Justin’s doing anything wrong.

What he’s doing wrong is he’s not notifying her when I send an email. The kid’s a nut. I know he can’t help the people he was born from or his environment, but the kid’s a flat-out nut and a half, destined to spend his life in and out of jail. At first I wasn’t going to send any email about it, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but you know, I’m sick of doing right when all it does is get me nowhere. So I sent him a quick message letting him know that it’s a damn shame that he’s too lazy to let his mother know when she’s got mail.

Anyway, I’ll send her a regular letter every once in a while, but I really would’ve preferred to keep in touch by email to save a little money. If Paula could listen to one thing I tell her, then she might’ve remembered that I said I’d be sending email on the first of each month so she could look for it then.

Anyway, I started to write about this earlier but never did. Tom and I were talking about what we’d do if we suddenly had limited time. Well, I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that if I suddenly knew I only had a year or two to live and that there was nothing I could do about it, I’d write the biggest “fuck you” letters the world’s ever seen to everyone responsible for landing me in jail and where I am today! Then the media could say I was prejudiced towards law enforcement people as well, not that that’d be a lie.

Some lady was giving away work shirts and a coupon for a different satellite provider that he wants to switch to. His plans for tuners, satellites, computers, etc., confuse the hell out of me. He says it’ll be easy to use, though, and a worthy investment.

The crazy rat really likes the fleece bed. She tore the seam that joins the outer, decorative material to the fleece and she burrows between the two.

I’m still far from updated. I haven’t even gotten to the printer and crabs yet. The printer’s great. I get a lot of paper jams where it doesn’t feed all the way through, but if it’ll do thousands of pages at a fraction of the cost, then great. I can’t believe how fast it is! The thing prints like 8 pages a minute, whereas the other one does one page in two minutes. You can kind of feel the print too, which is slightly raised, cuz it’s a powder that’s melted onto the paper and not ink that becomes one with the paper. So, I hope Mary doesn’t mind all-black text.

Yesterday morning we left at 8:00 and headed for PetSmart in Chandler. They had a good selection of crabs there. Like nearly a dozen. I picked out 3. One’s a jumbo, one’s average, and one’s small. I sent pictures to both Marys. I know Tom’s Mary won’t like them, but I don’t know about my Mary. She hates snakes, but she has no problem with rats, so it could go either way when it comes to them. I’ll just wait to hear from her about it. I’ll powder up a letter with the pics today. I better not get them back, either!

Jumbo’s the shyest. Hermy, the smallest one, is sort of shy. Crabby’s my favorite and the bravest, too. I feel sorry for her/him too, as it’s missing its large claw as well as a digit at the end of an outer leg. Must’ve been in a fight.

I have them in a little terrarium in the kitchen. (we have so much counter space in here that not even this tank leaves us short on space!) The tank’s a foot tall and almost two feet wide. It’s probably about a foot deep, too. In it, I have really nice colorful gravel that has even more colors than the fish have, but I think it was a waste, cuz I think they like the paper pellets better. They can burrow in it and dig through it easier. It’ll also absorb their pee. Another dumb buy was the two small plastic balls I got them. When I put them in them, they don’t seem to move much. I’d be better off letting them walk around loose just as long as I kept an eye on them. The last dumb buy I made was the spare shells. They’re way too big for them, and the more I think about it, the more I doubt they’ll ever change shells. These are Caribbean crabs and they change shells much less than Ecuadorian crabs.

The smart thing I bought and set up for them, besides food, of course, was a shallow plastic heavyweight bowl. If the bowl’s too deep, the crabs will drown. I also bought a sponge that you place in the middle of the bowl to provide a little bit of moisture. That way their gills won’t dry out. The reason they’re in the kitchen is that I’ll have to change the water bowl and dampen the sponge every day.

I took a strip of squared wire and placed that in there for them to climb on, as well as a wheel without its base. I made it stationary by covering the bottom of it with gravel. This way they can have things to climb on.

Tom made some measurements and determined that our fish tank is a 20-gallon and not a 15-gallon tank. We lost another fish, too. The green glass fish died.

For the fish, we got some fake neon plants for the babies to hide in and hopefully survive too, but now I’m not so sure we’re going to have any babies. Guppies have them every 3 weeks.

They had a huge selection of fish, but no glass fish. The neon tetras Tom was telling me about were just so-so. I like the bigger fish better, too.

Tom checked online and so far there’s been no problem with our order for Victoria and Karen. They had this really cool UPS tracking site that lets you track your packages. They processed the order at 5 PM on the 29th. They packaged it at 7:30. It left New York at 10:15, and by 2 AM they were in transit in Illinois. They say they’ll be here Monday the 4th.

Now, why can’t PG and Ashton be this fast? I’ll still be completely blown away if they really do get here that fast and without a problem. If it’s dolls, there’s always a problem unless they take forever anyway like Ashton does.

Speaking of Ashton, they must be psychic and knew I’d soon be ordering from them cuz I just got a catalog from them. I decided to dump Dalene and the PG fairies as soon as I saw this new Indian doll they have. She’s very beautiful and very realistic and she’s in a rather unique pose, too. She sort of leans against a carved rock base with one knee bent and the other straight for most of her weight to rest on. I just wish she wasn’t $130! She’s referred to as The Legend of the Apache Teardrop. Tom told me the story behind the legend. I think I’ll just call her Apache Woman. She’s 16” posed, so standing straight up, she’d probably be about 20”.

So, it looks like I’ll be getting the little ballerinas, Apache Woman, Mei Li and Felicity. If I don’t like the ballerinas, I’ll cancel the subscription and put Dalene back on the list. I’d still like to have the PG fairies eventually, though I don’t have to. They’re nice, but I can live without them. Besides, I’m sick of PG’s stupidity. I was supposed to get Tasha a month ago. A month ago! Why should it take a whole month to send a doll?

Guess you could say I’ve done enough writing, so I think I’ll go read now.

Later…

I wonder where Victoria and Karen are now. Well, I’ll find out when Tom gets up. He said he’d look before leaving for work.

Another year with the freeloaders and with being forced to bite my tongue, kiss ass, and basically be everything I’m not. I swear to God, though, after this next year, if I’ve got something to say I’ll say it, and no one, in any way shape or form will ever order me around again. I’m a little too old to be taking “orders” from anyone anyway, I would think. I’ll never again be anyone’s slave. No one will stop me from being myself and saying what I have to say within reasonable expectations. I’ve always been against ass-kissing. I’ve always felt it was degrading to the human spirit and it is. Oh, how bad I wanted to say, “I’m your client, you work for me, my $40 a month goes towards your pay, and therefore, I think I should be entitled to have some say in how often I see you.” Who knows, I still might speak my mind on the issue if he brings it up, but I’m sick of being made to feel like a child who has to seek the approval of an adult so she doesn’t get hit with any more abuse. Having to kiss ass like this really is a very degrading experience. I wouldn’t say just anything, anywhere, to just anyone anyway, but this is a little extreme. How is it that so many people have had such a hold on me throughout my life? It’s been nearly as bad as an adult as it was when I was a child for real! And how is it that I couldn’t put a hold on anyone myself if I tried? Putting a hold on someone isn’t want I want, though, I just want them to let go of me!

It still blows my mind, and it no doubt always will, how so little could turn into so much. How could this have gotten as far as it has and for so long?!?! All I wanted was for them to shut up. That’s all I wanted. Just for them to keep their music for their ears only. It’s like my whole life is either kissing ass or suffering the consequences for trying to do/achieve what’s right, and that’s a decision I’ll be faced with having to make as soon as this shit’s over. Do we let the next set of neighbors blast their music, hang out on our land or trash it? Or do we risk going to jail for complaining about it? There won’t be an in-between. There’ll be no “fighting back” and winning. At least they won’t be able to terrorize us from just 3’ away!

My life is just about in the hands of the freeloaders at the moment as it’s coming up on 10:00. That is if Scot comes. If he doesn’t show up today or tomorrow, that’ll be 12 glorious weeks without him here. It’d be a bummer if he did, not just for obvious reasons, but because that’d mean he’s still only skipping one month between drop-ins. His last visit was on August 8th.

You’d think it’d be so easy being on standard probation, just putting the $40 in the mail and showing up twice a month, but it’s not. It’s really not. I have the stress of home visits waking me up when I’m on nights, I always have to worry about some new demand or inconvenience coming up, and now I’ve got the threat of being degraded and humiliated over my head with a much longer drive. The freeloaders don’t just punish me, they punish him, too. He needs to sleep during the day, not be on the road for two hours.

Once again, I wasn’t kidding when I said I knew God would punish us for moving. He never approved of or wanted me to leave the city and that’s part of why I kept getting dragged back into it to the hotels and then jail. As much as I want to get out of here, I can’t help but wonder what the price for doing so would be. Nothing would happen if we moved to a city, but I’m not moving back to a city. Not on my own, not by force. I have come to completely despise cities! I’d rather the horseshit smell than to be back with all those freeloaders who would only live to make my life miserable.

I’ve been writing for 15 years as of today!

I just finished a clip that was supposedly of Mary’s, yet it had a little twist in it. In it, I was her celly and I made her gifts that were seized. I made her a doll out of cotton and linen and someone else made her a dog figurine out of cotton and soup and an address book out of a deck of playing cards. Before this, she talked to Todd’s parents about her court fears. Todd’s father encouraged her to keep her chin up. Anyway, I would cry in her arms for real if they took gifts I made her, and I’m sure she would be looking at the bright side of it while I was bitching about how unfair it all was.

I’m a bit confused, though, cuz I thought Todd’s family was abusive to him yet she made it sound otherwise. If they feel like real family to her, I’m glad. A family isn’t those who are blood-related to you. A family is those who love and accept you as you are without violence.

She also had me confused when she and Gary were talking about “getting those bastards.” Bastards as in the plural sense? I thought only Justin was charged with Gretchen’s murder. And what did she mean by Justin pulling stunts to scare her? How the hell could he do that from where he is?

So Mena’s one of her favorites? I’m surprised. A few others said they liked her but I never did. Reminded me too much of my mother. I always got the feeling that she wasn’t overly fond of me either. I don’t know, maybe she was brainwashed by the media.

So a lot of DOs are quitting cuz of the conditions? Well, good for them. Yeah, Joe’s a real little shit, that’s for sure. And what makes it even scarier is that he could decide to one day up and cut out all meals and have only those who can afford to buy food eat, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing anyone could do about it. The man’s got the power of Hitler. Of God, it seems. I’m as shocked that he’s still alive as I am that Saddam Insane is. I mean, don’t people like him, the media, the pigs, the public pretenders, and the judges ever get a little nervous what with the way they play with people’s lives as if they were playing with paper dolls? I know I wouldn’t have the guts to do any of those jobs, and certainly not in the manner that most of them do them. I wouldn’t want anyone shooting me on my doorstep. I’d always be looking over my shoulder in fear if I were pushing people around like that. And Arpaio’s full of shit to say that that food is donated. It’s not donated. First of all, no one wants to donate food to a bunch of convicts, and if it’s donated, then why did he say he was going to cut from 3 meals to 2 to save money? The contradicting bastard put his foot in his mouth and I don’t care who reads my opinions of him. I wouldn’t say anything that I wouldn’t say to his face. He cut the meals simply cuz he’s cheap, even if the food costs next to nothing in the first place, and cuz he’s high on power and control.

And as far as her mom saying God’s gonna deal with that man – oh, how I wish! I wish, but sadly, this seems to be the type God only goes out of his way to protect, from what I’ve seen. If God “dealt” with those who wronged others, the freeloaders would be doing time and my folks would be in funny farms. In other words, I really think he does have a better chance of getting shot than having God deal with him.

I agree with her mom about him needing to be thrown in his own cell, but you know what? He’s such an arrogant little fuck that he’d say, “But this is right. This is what someone who commits crimes should get, including me if I were a criminal. It’s all okay and correct. If you don’t like it, don’t do the crime.”

We had our first fish casualty. One of the guppies died. It was weird too, cuz it was lying on the bottom. I thought dead fish were supposed to float.

I was like, “Oh please!” when I read back on a reference letter Tom wrote for the courts prior to my sentencing. I was like, “Oh my God. He’s made it sound like I’m totally, totally guilty, saying that I’m not perfect, this isn’t the norm for me, I let anger bubble up due to the moving stress, etc.”

This is as bad as how I handled the pigs!

I did nothing wrong. I know he didn’t know what was going on at the time, but he knew enough to know I did nothing wrong and to stand by me and defend me even if I had. The freeloader’s boyfriend never would’ve said or implied that she did anything wrong, so what have we got here? The guy with the guilty woman playing like she’s all innocent while the guy with the innocent woman implies she’s guilty? He would never do such a thing to her. He would never come out and tell his bitch that if she had just handled things differently, none of this would’ve happened, or imply in any way shape or form that she either asked for what she got or that she did wrong in any way, so how could my husband do so to me? The letter’s already been given to the wrong people and I can’t change what Tom believes, but I was always the victim in this case. I’m the one who the hate crime was committed when they perjured themselves and when I was dealt such an insane sentence. Nobody should get 3 years for a letter. Period. Whether they wrote it or not, what happened to me was wrong and it was not my fault. My only fault was complaining about the wrong person with the wrong connections might think about it, but and looking too Jewish, and he never should’ve written any such thing. Not cuz of what they because it was the wrong thing to say. Even if I had been guilty, you don’t admit it. If I shot someone in cold blood, he should still stand by me by insisting I’m innocent. It’d be the proper thing to do and it would be what I’d do for him. I want the same support and treatment I’d give him.

I’m making us a roast right now. Something I haven’t done in a while. Meanwhile, today’s the first day we didn’t have to use the AC. It was rainy and cloudy. Tom said there was even some thunder, but it obviously wasn’t too loud, since nothing woke me up. I had a nightmare where a bunch of birds were pecking at the back of my neck which jarred me awake, but I fell right back to sleep.

I have a bad feeling that I’ll be celebrating this next birthday without my Little Buddy. He’s less and less active, eating less, moving slower, having to take breaks, etc. He sits for several minutes at a time and lets me pat him, which isn’t like him. He loves attention from me, yes, but he also loves to run around and explore and he hasn’t been doing much of that. He’s hardly at the door begging to be let out these days and he even feels old when I hold him. He’s lost some weight. My bouncy, agile, playful little puppy dog rat has turned into a sluggish little thing that does nothing but sleep most of the time. Tears sting my eyes just thinking about it. I thought Scuttles and Houdini hit me hard when they died, well, there’ll be no comparison!

I thought I was supposed to be receiving daily jokes from this site, but I haven’t gotten today’s joke from them, so I don’t know what the scoop is. That’s okay, though. I can go to them.

As I go through late ’96, I realize that the best part of reading back through the shit I went through with my family is knowing that it’s all over. Oh, how I wish I could read back on the freeloaders and be able to say, “At least it’s over!” Maybe someday. Maybe. They can’t victimize me forever. After all, we can move if that ends up being the only way to shake them off.

Last night I realized that the stress over pissing for someone stopped as quickly as it began which was as soon as Scot mentioned Casa Grande. Could it be because I won’t have to do so after all? Or is it simply because I’ve come to accept the inevitable? I doubt it’s cuz he’s gonna stay in Maricopa.

We ordered 2 of the 3 Playboy dolls. The one we didn’t order isn’t available yet. It’s to be manufactured at the end of this month, though. That’s the Dalene doll. Meanwhile, Victoria and Karen are on their way from New York via UPS, but I’m sure there’ll be some problem, as usual. They’re dolls, so there has to be.

Last night I got a wallpaper picture of the Cher doll and it’s really, really nice, though I’m not a Cher fan. I emailed it to Mary, asking her to be on the lookout for it in department stores so I could see if it ends up being marked down after the holidays. I told her it’d be in the Barbie section. I also asked that she look for Barbie as a brunette ballerina in white from Swan Lake. That one’s usually around $30, but I don’t know about Cher.

I heard from Mary today. She said her birthday (her third one in custody) was so awful that she wrote a clip on it. It’s a small draft, but I haven’t gone through it yet. I guess I’m included in it from what she said, and I told her I hoped she didn’t mind if I corrected the spelling of my name! She spells it with a y at the end like most people do.

Anyway, I remember how horrid my birthday was in there, expecting my first commissary order that I never got when I was moved from M to A.

She’s been rolling with laughter over the jokes.

She said Hope’s gone and has an appeal going in regard to her 40-year sentence, but she’ll never get a reduction. Not in this state. She should put her energy into adapting to prison life, not fighting hopeless battles. Better yet, she should try to escape. I think Mary should run too, once she’s free, but that’s mainly cuz she’s going to be looking at so many years of probation. Intense probation.

She said she was stuck with some girl who was trying to kick a speed addiction for a while. Sounds like creepy, gross, commissary-begging Charlotte! Now she’s in with that Virginia girl she mentioned getting in with after Hope left.

Damn, I wish I had had that much control over whom I celled with and for how long, but I did get them to let me spend a third or so of my sentence alone. That’s the beauty of having DOs you like that likes you back. You get stuff from them, and every little favor goes a long way in that dive.

She liked the lipstick kiss I enclosed for her. This time I put on my glittery Chapstick and gave her a glitter kiss. It’s light, but you can still see it. Yeah, we give each other kisses every now and then. Ooh! Aren’t we such naughty girls?

She’s had bettas before and said they look really cool under fluorescent light. I wonder what she’ll think of the crabs I intend to get. The money’s now there, so maybe we’ll hit the stores Monday morning.

She said her allergies are driving her nuts, but mine have been fine. I’ve only had the spray twice in well over a month now. Maybe I did cure myself with the power of wishful thinking. If I can go another few months, then yes I did, and that’d be a hell of a power to have! What a gift! If only I could “cure” my life of something else, too.

She sent another picture to scan/store/print, but as I reminded her, color ink is still pretty expensive, so I don’t want to print too many pictures, though I can store as many as she likes.

Speaking of pictures, I explained to her that I’ve been making our own calendars, using pictures like what I use to make her address labels with – animals, flowers, scenery, etc. I told her I’d hang onto them after we’re done with them and that I’d send them to her in prison if she’d like. I doubt they’ll have any rules about how many pictures an inmate can get and how big they can be as long as they’re not explicit, violent or gruesome. This way she can decorate with them and either ditch or give away the ones she doesn’t like. They’ll have monthly grids and some writing on the backs of them, but they won’t show through.

I don’t know what bothers me more, the twisted unfairness of this world, or the fact that not one single solitary person who’s fucked me over has ever paid for it, be it by the courts, by God, etc.

If you beat up a black person and call them a racial slur, they call it a hate crime. If you beat up a big person and call them a fatso, they call it what it is. All these “minorities” have to do is say you called them this or called them that, and they’re the ones who are automatically believed which changes everything.

Tom and I were talking about how they’d simply have dealt me a decade in prison if I had beat the sick bitch up in a fit of rage, despite how this state tends to go harder on the lesser, non-premeditated crimes.

Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it. But the fellow black or the male or the non-Jewish person would’ve gotten the one-year probation I was supposed to get, and even that’s ridiculous for a letter. In other words, as long as Jodi’s involved, it doesn’t matter what the state, the colors, or the religion is as long as she suffers dearly. If she falls the hardest it all doesn’t matter. No details count. Makes me wonder this – if someone in Maricopa got down on their knees and begged God to let them rip off or assault someone and get away with it, would God answer by giving them directions to this house?

Another thing I wonder is – when I think of the system that fucked me over, the Nancys who threatened to “show” me how to shut up, the contractors that took us for thousands – well – what are all these people gonna do when little Jodi stops caring about consequences? I’ll snap the next time and I know it, and like I said before, I’ll owe myself that much. I won’t be able to restrain myself if I try cuz people just don’t realize the long-term accumulative effect this shit has had and is having on me. I say I’ll just sit back and take it so I won’t have to go to jail, but will it really be that easy when the time comes? And it will come. If God and the system won’t protect me, then who will? I guess I’ll have to be the one to do so, even if doing what’s right and taking a stand for myself means I have to suffer the consequences for it in the end. Like a soldier who died at war; at least they died trying to do what was right and by defending themselves.

If God didn’t put me here to realize most of my past/present/future dreams, then can I at least not be society’s whipping boy?

Well, I’m back to being right on, as I usually am, with the negative vibes. Tom said our stock money should have been deposited last night, but it wasn’t, which would be the only way could afford to get crabs the next day (today).

“No, it won’t. The money won’t be there cuz I want to get crabs tomorrow,” I told Tom on Thursday, and sure enough, it didn’t post last night. So he called them up and they said it’d be there early next week, so we may get the crabs then.

He also called about the sewing machine and about Tasha. The sewing people said it was shipped on the 23rd, so it’s going to beat its deadline big time without any problems.

Of course, it’s not a doll.

Tasha was shipped on the 18th and the stupid fucks sent her to Tempe, even though we put the new address on the envelope and checked the ‘new address’ box.

Great. Now we have to deal with doll packages in Tempe yet again. Tempe will just throw her on a shelf and consider her delivered. As I told Tom, I am so, so sick of PG, but he said, “We’ll see. Maybe I’ll get you something for your birthday.” Well, if we’re ever dumb enough to use them again, we need to call them and very slowly, as if we were talking to a small child, tell them to wipe both PO Box addresses out of their computer completely, so they can ship the dolls straight to the house by UPS.

Anyway, my vibes say there probably won’t be a truck in November, but there’s a slight possibility around the 23rd.

Last night I changed the betta’s water, but this time, I poured new water in first so the current would stir up shit, before scooping out several cups of water. Then I filled the bowls to an inch below the rims.

I love the turquoise betta. He’s my favorite. I love the way he’s so alert, curious and brave. He sometimes moves from side to side like an anxious dog that is excited about going for a walk or something.

We noticed that the mollies, particularly our very pregnant Molly, were rocking back and forth from side to side, so I did some online research. They call it the shimmies and say it’s usually done when they get stressed out over water conditions. I added more salt, which mollies like and which is okay to do since they’re in with other livebearers, and it’s calmed the shimmies a bit.

The more I think about it, the more I know I’m right about how God will sic new neighbors on us after the freeloaders are finished with us. Not only do old patterns tell me that’s what he’ll do, but notice how Dan’s engine-gunning sprees were during that lull when we thought the freeloaders were out of our lives for good? It recently dawned on me that that’s why it’s been quiet around here since I left jail. Why use new neighbors to harass us when he’s not yet through with using old neighbors?

Anyway, when we do trade in the old ones for new ones, I’ll know to do nothing about it but just sit back and take it cuz I’m not going to jail for anyone else ever again.

I’m doing some fine-tuning at the moment, and damn, ’96 sure was a bad year for us! I still wanted a kid, his parents were stealing our lives and money, and the freeloaders were driving us crazy.

Today, no family members steal our lives and money, I no longer want a kid, but the freeloaders are still driving us crazy. They’re just doing it from a distance, in a different way.

Later…

Now that’s a man who loves his wife. Tom told me that if I were framed and sent to prison either for life or very many years, he’d immediately work on ways to bust me out. I don’t see how the hell he could pull it off or how God would even let him, but it’s nice to know he’d at least try. Meanwhile, I’d kill myself for damn sure.

I decided to surprise Paula with a regular letter, but that’s mainly only to use an envelope in which the return address picture didn’t come out too well, and to try to stress to the dumb ditz that we have blocks. That’s what I want her to believe so she doesn’t nag me, but then again, how much can she be a nag from across the country? All I have to do is ignore her, and unlike the freeloaders, she couldn’t stop me from doing so.

I’m just sick of her, her man troubles, her games. She can’t get mail to me and now she can’t get email to me.

Anyway, I didn’t enclose any jokes, knowing she probably wouldn’t get them, but I did tell her that I don’t think that kid of hers is letting her know when I email her, and I told her I had sent her journals for August and September, as well as from the late 80s and early 90s. I also told her that unless I got a message telling me otherwise, I wasn’t going to bother sending anything else since she may very well not get whatever I sent.

I decided that Tom and I should write down our answers and swap them at the same time so we wouldn’t be influenced by each other’s decisions as far as what to do about the beds. I opted to keep things as they are but get a new bed. He opted to go with two twin beds of some kind side by side. Then, I opted to go along with him, since there was an alternative to doing it his way. Meaning, if he starts snoring too much, all we have to do is kick him out and into the guest room, but as it is, there’s no alternative cuz I can’t sleep through his movements in this bed, whether he snores or not.

I don’t know if I’m going to like two side by sides. I’m just so used to the way things are and I’m not thrilled about the idea of having to deal with his bad breath stinking up the room, either. Guys really do stink compared to women. At the same time, though, if he truly does want to do this, then I’m naturally going to want to try to please the one I love.

They caught the sniper. Naturally, it’s black. So they’ll plead him down to life in prison instead of the death sentence all for being black and that’ll be that. That way they won’t have to deal with a riot on their hands for doing the right thing by executing the piece of shit.

“They wrote about me and published it,” I told Tom, “We ought to write about them and publish it” (freeloaders, pigs, Paul, judge).

“That’d be stupid. That’d just bring attention to ourselves.”

That’s true. And of course, if it were me doing the writing there’d be consequences to pay. I’m now allowed to do what others can do.

I asked Tom, “Remember how you said that once it was March you felt the end of the jail time getting closer? Well, do you feel close to the end of the whole thing at this point?”

Yes, he said, but after being bullshitted left and right in regard to these freeloaders, I can’t afford to be too optimistic. I wonder, though, is this November that’s just a week away really going to be the last November with them as a part of our lives? Will December be the last December? Is ’03 the last year with them connected to 90% of our everyday lives? Or is my “calling” in life really to be fucked over by one source after another and to do for others at my own expense? Doing for others cuz you want to and cuz you care is different from doing for others cuz you have no choice, and while you’re at it, you lose so much.

Come next year I’ll need a good 6 months to a year with no subpoenas or pigs at our door in order to rest assured that it’s truly “over.”

I had started to see a slight ray of hope at the end of the tunnel till Scot informed us of this Casa Grande shit. We can’t even go more than a few months with things running smoothly. On probation, there’s always something coming up. Something else we have to do, some issue that might have to be dealt with, some kind of change, etc. A few months into Casa Grande and there’ll be some new bullshit to arise. Maybe they’ll want more money per month or maybe he’ll switch to Phoenix and we’ll have to go there which is twice as far as Casa Grande.

This morning, before 10:00, Tom parked the car in back. Fortunately, at 76’ long, this house can conceal the car well. Since he’s on vacation and isn’t going to be going anywhere till the end of the week, I decided we should park it there to make it look like no one’s home should Scot stop by. From the direction he comes in from, he shouldn’t see it parked there. Whether or not he’d snoop around and look in back if he came by and got no answer, I don’t know, but I’m on nights right now and no answer is exactly what he’ll get if he does come by this week.

Tom said that if we were questioned, he’d say it was back there cuz he wanted to be near one of the hoses to deal with a radiator leak. That’s what we’d say, but I wouldn’t like it. It’d make me feel like a child all over again having to explain my actions. Scot’s not my father and I’m not a minor, so as far as I’m concerned, I really don’t owe him any explanations, but that’s the problem with most people; they think you do owe them explanations. It’s only been recently, I’m sorry to say, that I’ve put my foot down as far as that goes, excluding with friends and loved ones, of course. I mean, why did I ever think for a minute that I owed Stacey any explanation as to my problems with other residents there? Again, I know the past can’t be undone, but it’s at least taught me how to better handle things in the future.

As far as who to say what to, Tom advised me to say, “I want a lawyer present before you question me,” rather than, “Charge me or release me,” should the cops ever pick me up again. They’ll try to manipulate me, of course, but I owe them absolutely no explanations whatsoever and I’m not obligated to say a word. It’s also okay to discuss probation-related issues with Scot, for example; it’s if he suddenly were to ask me where I was at certain times that I need to keep my mouth shut. Personally, I don’t think I even owe him any explanation if he came by, saw the car and got no answer. It’s just that I get paranoid about making him paranoid cuz that could cause trouble. A little paranoia or a little misunderstanding could cause things like this house getting torn apart, etc. As always, he’s the one with the hold on me. I mean, I could embarrass him in the end by writing to his boss and saying he raped me and that I was too afraid to say so as his client, but that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t undo whatever was done to me and he wouldn’t lose his job over it.

Tom and I were talking about law-related things earlier. It’s so race, gender, and money-biased. Take bail for example. Think it was created so people could have a chance at being free for a while longer out of the goodness of their hearts? No, of course not. It was created as an opportunity to make more money.

Some sniper is on the loose in the Washington DC area. They’re still not even sure if it’s one or two people or terrorists but the person(s) obviously wants to get caught cuz they’re now sending letters and making calls to the cops.

“Why don’t they just turn themselves in if they want to get caught?” I asked Tom.

“Cuz it’s a subconscious thing,” he told me.

Subconsciously or not, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to get caught and go to jail for any reason. I also can’t imagine how this whacko’s gotten this far without yet getting caught, with or without calls and letters to the cops. See, that’s the difference between me and most people. I could magically be in the state of Maine in one second, pick up a gun lying in the middle of the street with a gloved hand, shoot someone dead, be back here at home in the next second, yet still get caught. Somehow, someway, God would lead the authorities to my door.

Something up there really wanted me to go down for these freeloaders, that’s for sure. It was like something was possessing me to handle the black pig in every way I knew I shouldn’t. After all, I did it right back east by ignoring that detective lady from Northampton when she came over wanting to talk to me about the shit going on with Maliheh.

One really needs to be aware of who they tell what to, that’s for sure. The amount of information one shares with others is amazing. Take that little presentencing interview I did over the phone with that guy for instance. When Tom and I met with Paul on sentencing day, I found that he had typed up everything I said. Not that I said anything I wouldn’t say to anyone else, but I felt betrayed nonetheless. Not that this matters either or changes anything, but I’m sure Scot has a copy of every single grievance and tank order I filled out while in jail, plus anything the DOs might’ve said/written in regard to me.

If only I could earn just $5 measly dollars a week. I’d settle for just that, yet asking for so little is asking for so much in my case, as it usually is. With $5 a week, assuming it wasn’t needed for anything else more important, I could get $25 in 5 weeks and a $300 doll in a little over half a year.

Our land still continues to be a regular haven for the neighborhood dogs, though they haven’t torn anything up lately, so that’s good.

I’m really surprised that the cooler weather hasn’t brought the renters outside on a regular basis, but it’s still a bit warm. We’re still needing the AC for about 8-10 hours a day.

Paula’s playing her games with me again, but I’m just ignoring her. She left a message, and without mentioning the email I sent the last time or the time before saying we got long-distance blocks, she said her phone number might be changing at that she’d mail it to me.

Can’t she leave it on the machine? Besides, she can’t get mail to me. Doesn’t she remember this?

Now that ink isn’t going to be an issue once we get a laser cartridge, I could start writing her by regular mail again, but I highly doubt I will. I have a hell of a feeling, though, that she hasn’t gotten the journals I sent her over the last few months.

Anyway, last night’s shopping was fun. I tend to save my better news for last – well – we set the bombs off at 5:00, then took off for Circle K. I got my coffee and a candy bar and he got soda and cupcakes.

We went to the Petco in Ahwatukee. I first got the rats a cute little colorful fleece-lined bed and then I got a brightly colored pagoda for the fish tank. It’s only a few inches tall with little windows that only the tiny fish could swim through. It’s mostly neon pink and it really adds more color to the tank.

The fake plants in the betta’s bowls never grew, but the ones in the tank are doing really well. In fact, I’m amazed at how fast they grow. You can see them growing by the hour! I wonder how big they’ll get.

Anyway, they had a huge selection of fish, but a shitty selection of glass fish so we didn’t get any of those. They had some gorgeous neon-colored fish, but they were saltwater fish, so we couldn’t get those. Instead, we got a Chinese algae eater (which can grow to 6” - 12” and is a dull-looking, long skinny gray fish), and a couple of Dalmatian mollies (one female, one male). These mollies, Molly and Ollie, are a good size. About 4” like the bettas. I added a little salt for them as they recommended, but they are freshwater fish. I checked online, and they’re live-bearers too, like the guppies. I was wrong in calling them ‘black Dalmatian mollies.’ They’re just Dalmatians. There are 4 different kinds of mollies, according to my research - black, gold, fintail, and Dalmatians.

These mollies can really eat, and Molly sure is a fat one. I don’t know if it’s cuz she’s pregnant or if that’s just the way she is.

When I was around 15, I had these land crabs. They’re these crabs that live in shells. They have gills just like fish and no lungs, but like with bettas, they’ll drown if submerged in water for long periods of time. These crabs need no water at all other than to drink.

Anyway, all this time I thought they didn’t sell them out here for some reason and was confused because here they call them hermit crabs and not land crabs. Last night, though, I was quite happy to learn that they do sell these same crabs here, but Petco was sold out of them. Friday we’ll probably get some. They’re fun pets, though not as cute as rats and mice. They’re nocturnal too, and love to climb on things. I’m going to put them in the wire cage I got when I got Ratsy. They cost next to nothing to maintain just like with the fish. They’ll eat almost anything as long as it’s not dairy, acidic fruit or potatoes. They very rarely pinch, and if they do, it’s usually only cuz they’re scared or hungry, so you should let them get to know you before you handle them much and keep them well-fed. All they need, besides their basic food which will last forever, is a small hamster ball to run around in so they can’t get lost under furniture, a spare shell to grow into, gravel or sand for the floor of their cage, and a shallow water bowl that they can’t drown in (since they like to climb into the water bowl).

They’re pretty dumb, though. They’ll walk off tables, let you rip them apart if you try to pull them from their shells, and they don’t have sense enough to walk around things. Instead, they have to walk over or under things.

Tom’s doing what he usually does when he’s not on vacation – watching TV and tinkering with computers. We read together for a little while, too.

Oh, this man really frustrates and confuses me at times! We were talking about the different possibilities for putting two twin beds side by side in the master bedroom. I asked him what was most important to him, sleeping in the same room, having a setup that would allow us to get close, both, or does it not matter at all? Meaning, would he be indifferent as to whether or not we created some sort of setup or kept things the way they are? His answer to this was that he was just going along with what I wanted, as usual, not knowing he had a choice in the matter.

That’s bullshit, I told him. His desires and opinions have always mattered to me and I always try to factor them into my plans. Buying dolls is one thing, this is another. If he didn’t like the Playboys, I’d still get them anyway. But if he’s happy keeping things the way they are, then so am I, and in that case, since I don’t particularly care for this bed, I’ll either get a memory foam mattress or a waterbed.

Anyway, we weren’t going to do anything bed-wise till we had next year’s stock, so I told him to take the next few months to think about what he wants, and I’ll base my decisions on that.

We were also talking about the different ways we see this freeloader shit. To him, the freeloaders have nothing to do with us anymore, they’ve been out of this shit for some time now, the state’s taken over, etc., but that’s not the way I see it. Yes, the pig, lawyer and judge are just as guilty, bad and responsible as the freeloaders, but anything I have to do that somehow stems its way back to them is every bit a reminder of just how much they are still connected to us. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be having to pay monthly fees, report, etc, so they are not gone from our lives and they do have something to do with us still. They have a lot of something to do with us.

Anyway, today’s been another wonderfully blackless day. Most days are like this, as Tom pointed out. Yes, they are. It’s just that those days are spent stressing out over what might come up and anxious anticipation of what will come up.

The guppies have turned out to be little beggars. As soon as I put my hand over the top of the tank, they float up to the top in anticipation of being fed.

At about 5:30, we’re going to bomb. The spider count’s on the rise again. Once it gets to where I’m seeing them every day for nearly a week, I know they won’t go away, so we’re going to bomb, hit Circle K, then Petco.

In other news, we may be finding a house across the way real soon. A couple of hours ago there was a knock on the door. My immediate instinct was that it was Scot, but I thought the knock didn’t quite sound like his. It was longer. When I opened the door, I found a very conservatively dressed guy who said he was looking to buy the 10 acres across the way. I’m not sure if he meant across from us, across from next door or what, but anyway, Tom and I spoke to him for a few minutes. He introduced himself as Michael (great, another Michael!). He asked about the surrounding roads, mentioned having someone drill him a well after we told him not to use Southland, asked how deep our well is (which Tom says is 885 and not 785), how it works, if we liked it out here, how long we’d been here, and that’s basically it.

If we have to have someone across the way, I get the distinct impression he’d make a good neighbor. He’s white, seemed very polite and considerate, and like he may be either gay or a dedicated family man, possibly Mormon. Now, I don’t dig the idea of having a shitload of Mormons so close, but you can bet your ass I’d take that over a shitload of minorities any day. Mormons don’t go blasting music like blacks and Mexicans do which is much, much louder than a group of screaming kids, of course.

No, I don’t like the idea of seeing a house out front where we once saw nothing for the 3 years we’ve been here, and I know they’ll hang out front and that I’ll probably hear the kids and dogs somewhat, but it’ll up the value around here. Especially since he said he was getting a manufactured house. We need newer houses to make up for the crappy rentals we got in back.

I’d rather kids screaming first, then dogs, then music. Obviously, I picked music to be last cuz it’s the loudest. I picked kids over dogs cuz the dogs are out there 24/7. The kids aren’t. Being 300’ away instead of 3’ away helps too as does not having a block wall so close to the house to enhance the sound.

I checked out a handful of joke sites last night, wanting to even the score. For every one joke I send Dave, he sends me a dozen, so I thought I’d balance things out a bit. Most were dull, but some were funny. I printed a good 20 or so out for Mary, too.

Little Buddy’s starting to show his age. He isn’t going bald like Ratsy did, but he’s slowing down somewhat, needing to rest more often during playtime.

Tomorrow we’re going to the fish store to see what they’ve got. We also have to get that algae eater. The purple glass fish’s color is starting to break up a bit, but the pink and green ones are still solidly colored. Perhaps the purple one’s older.

Tom and I discussed the pros and cons of skipping, transferring, and sticking this freeloader shit out. The main issue is the humiliation of having to piss with someone gawking at me. The only place there’s an opening at the bank to transfer to is Dallas, but Texas would certainly do the same thing, being so much like Arizona.

If we ran, we’d have to give up our whole lives and not own property or houses, and so we both agreed that the freeloaders aren’t worth giving that up for. We’ve been made to give up enough for them as it is. I know how to handle the pigs now and I know much, much more about the law. Therefore, if they did start a whole new round of shit with me next year, we’d know how to handle it and keep this from happening again. My problem was mainly pleading guilty. If I’d just told the black pig that I wanted a lawyer before I was questioned, and had I gotten a real lawyer, I’d have been alright. The interrogation would’ve been taped, and if the lawyer didn’t tell me to keep my mouth shut, which would’ve been the best and proper advice to give any client, we could’ve gotten me off on faulty representation.

I have so many conflicting emotions. Last night I was saying to myself, you’re the one who won’t walk away. You’re the one who keeps playing into this shit and their abuse by paying the $40 a month, by going to Scot, etc.

On the other hand, this house simply isn’t worth giving up for them. At least not yet. If I were looking at a decade or more of this shit, then yes, it would be. We’d more than likely head to a country with no extradition laws.

So, after weighing the pros and cons I told myself, it’ll probably be just one test, you’ll have just 10 months left, then you’ll more than likely never hear from the freeloaders again. I don’t want to go to states like Texas or go back to living in apartments in cities. Not for the freeloaders, not for anyone or anything. Besides, wherever we go, there’ll always be something going on. If the freeloaders weren’t our problem, something or someone else would be.

Tom’s not only sure it’ll be over at the said date next year, but that the freeloaders moved out of state as well. Especially since they had no careers or houses to hold them down. Well, I’d move if I fucked someone over the way they did with me, but at the same time, I wouldn’t count on it. They’re so fucking arrogant. They think they’re invincible when it comes to me, which sadly, has more than a grain of truth to it. They are invincible where I’m concerned. They can do anything they want to me and get away with it and they know it. Makes me wonder if they stuck around, hoping I’d make a move on them just so they could take me down again. These are the kinds of people who’ll risk their safety and put themselves out to get at those they hate.

What is it with the pigs in this world, though? How do they sleep at night knowing they’ve tricked and manipulated so many people into losing so much and going through so much hell? Is it an inferiority complex they have that makes them feel they’ve got to lash out at others? Were they so fucked over growing up that makes them want to use and abuse their authority? What is it? I asked Tom, who said there are all different reasons why they do the things they do, though obviously, in my case, a certain black pig did a service to his very hateful, vindictive friend.

Tom’s not sure what to make of Mary’s case, but for some reason, I think she’ll actually end up having an easier time here than in Florida. In Florida, as Tom pointed out, it’s just the opposite of how it is here and it would actually help if she was Jewish.

Tom said he’s still not convinced Scot will stop working here, but trust me, it’ll happen. He says that like most people, he’s saying what he wants to happen. “He more than likely lives in Casa Grande, so that’s why he’d want to work out of there only.”

“But he still has to come to Maricopa to do home visits,” I said, and he reminded me that his visits have spread out.

“But that’s only because I’m towards the end of the sentence and haven’t been a problem,” I told him. “I’m sure there are others with years ahead of them that are much more likely to fuck up.”

So basically, if we want to hang onto this house till we’re ready to move on, and we will someday for sure, I have to hope I’m only humiliated once, hope the class issue doesn’t come up again, then get off pro in 10 months and hope for the best. When it comes time for the test, I’ll just have to tell myself I did it once, I can do it again.

From what I’ve read, in case I forgot to say so before, I think the Playboy dolls are made mainly of a rubbery material. That would explain why they’re supposed to feel like they have real skin, and I think they may move a bit, though not much. They’d never be as poseable as Tyler. Especially with no joints.

Since we agreed to get the Playboy set with this year’s stock and Felicity with next year’s stock, I decided to think about what to get with my holiday/birthday money. Anything to keep my mind off Casa Grande! Plus, we’re almost down to just a couple of months now. So, I told myself, well, I could order from PG, but they’re not reliable. I could get the Barbies, but they’re too small and not very realistic looking. Why don’t I check Ashton-Drake? They take forever (3 weeks), but they’re reliable.

So I checked them out, not expecting to find anything too affordable, then I found the Vive le Ballet collection. It’s a subscription plan where you get 3 sets of 3 fairy ballerinas every other month for $30 and you can cancel anytime. They’re absolutely beautiful! They’re small (5”) yet quite realistic looking. Ballerinas are one of my favorite themes. I only saw a picture of the first set and each one is posed differently. One wears white, one’s in pink, and one’s in purple. They have wigs and real clothes, which is rare on ballerinas this small. At this size, they usually have molded hair and their outfits are part of the sculpt, too. They’re actually Christmas tree ornaments, but I think I’ll hang them by hooks under the kitchen cabinets. That’d look way nice.

The first set consists of Swan Lake, The Nutcracker and Sleeping Beauty. The second has Giselle, The Firebird and Snow White. The third has Midsummer Nights, Les Sylphides and Cinderella. Never heard of 3 of these.

It’s hard to tell by their pictures what color hair they have. I think their eyes are closed to create that dreamy look. Besides, I don’t know that they can do inset eyes on dolls this small. The question is, would I consider them to be figurines or dolls? I guess I’d consider them to be dolls because, to me, figurines don’t usually have wigs or real clothes.

I wish people would take better pictures of their dolls. They’re either too blocky, too small or not complete. For some reason, unlike the other two, the Dalene doll is only shown to just below the knee.

Then again, Little Buddy could’ve fooled me as far as his age goes tonight. This is the fourth time he’s wanted to be out running around.

Later…

We saw a fighter jet when we went into town the other day, so although I only heard booms for a couple of days there, they are still around.

I’m going to be doing myself, Mary, and animals a favor. I decided to send the Humane Society $10. Not only will it help animals, but they send gorgeous animal cards that I know Mary would just love. They’ll also send us address labels, something we haven’t gotten yet for the new address. They’re good for bills.