Although only a third of the year has passed, I’m sure April 30th will always be the best day of 2003. Yes, I have some absolutely shocking, mind-boggling, unbelievably fantastic news – I’m off probation!!!!! This is it, it’s over! After 6 months in jail, 100 hours of community service, a slew of therapy appointments, God knows how much money, 47 reports and 11 home visits, my life now belongs to me! Me! As in never with them, never with me! Never ever again will anything we do have any connection to them! They don’t own me anymore! They really don’t! I wasn’t dreaming. That call I thought would never come really did come! It came just shy of 12 hours ago. I was too excited to write, although I was up several hours afterward, unable to sleep due to the excitement and shock. When I finally did fall asleep, I thought I’d sleep forever, but woke up just under 6 hours later. It’s all the excitement for sure.

It wasn’t even quite 6:30 this morning when I heard the phone ring from my office. Tom had gone to bed two hours earlier and I wanted to grab the phone before it woke him. At that hour I figured it had to be Paula calling to tell me the reason I hadn’t heard from her was that I was right about her ending up in jail. Instead, I walked up to the phone and saw Pinal County on the ID box. With my now quickened heartbeat, I picked up the phone.

It was Scot. “Have you heard the news?” he asked me.

Although I said, “No, what’s wrong?” my mind said, “What bullshit are they accusing me of now?” I mean, at that hour he could’ve been calling to tell me to expect to be arrested for all I knew, or even that threats were made against me. I just didn’t know. There wasn’t enough time between when I picked up the phone and when we started talking for all the possible horrible scenarios to play through my mind. Nonetheless, that was when he told me I was off probation as of the 23rd and that the judge designated it a misdemeanor. He said the state objected, but oh well, the judge signed me off anyway and I don’t have to come and see him. So I’ve been off probation for a week and didn’t even know it. Hell, the welfare bums probably knew it before I did!

All I could do was say, “Oh my God, oh my God!” Then I thanked him for the great news and told him to have a good life.

“Okay,” he said, and we hung up at which time Tom stumbled out of the bedroom. He was just as shocked and as happy as I was, but we both wondered why I didn’t get any kind of a letter about it. He thinks it may be because they have to update our new PO Box address. I guess the news was just faxed into Scot’s office, too.

This is what I mean when I say I couldn’t tell you if you were going to win the lottery, but I could probably tell you if you were going to be hurt or something. I can sense and do negative, but not positive. I can’t heal you if you’re sick, but could probably make you sick if you pissed me off enough. I had no idea that this was coming! I was totally caught off guard. Totally! I really expected no breaks or shortcuts with the sentence length whatsoever with this shit after seeing them play the jail part up to the max like they did and so much more. So now I’ll have all these meaningless numbers on my calendar for the next 6 months!

I had to laugh at how I wrote on the 16th that I woke up thinking I had 13 more reports when I really had 6. Well, I had even less than that now, didn’t I?!

Before he called I was sitting there thinking that it was 4 years ago since we lived with the welfare bums and how appalled and shocked I was to know that fate could be so determined to have it be that they were still with me in such a huge way. I swear, though, nobody will ever tell me what to do again! Nobody! I will be no one’s puppet, slave, scapegoat, opportunity, punching bag or source of money. I will be the adult that I am and never again be reduced to being made to feel like a child all over again. No one will ever have such a fierce hold on me again. I will not be used or abused by anyone like that again, and believe me, these people are runners-up to my parents who fucked me over the most in life, along with the Amy Ks, Donna As, Margaret Ms, and Barbara Ds of Valleyhead and Brattleboro.

I laughed upon remembering Scot telling me around last August or so that I’d be celebrating come Halloween of next year. Wrong, honey, I’m celebrating now! Right now. Oh yes, we’ll go to Red Lobster or do something real soon, but the main celebration is in my heart and mind. The relief and happiness of knowing I’m now, finally, after 7 long years, free of these sick fucks forever, is indescribable. I am a little worried about God sending me a new long-term problem and their reaction to the early release, though. I mean, they must know, right? And if they do, they gotta be fuming. Utterly furious out of their minds! The control they had for so long is now gone, and with people like that, there’s no saying what they may do. However, being the wonderful doom psychic that I am, I’m happy to report no bad vibes. Who knows, with all the spells I’ve been casting upon them they just may be too ill to be mad in the first place. We’ll still at least get the fences up ASAP, though I certainly don’t have to worry that Scot may wake me up tomorrow! There is no such thing as “prime time” anymore. No, 10 AM is just that – 10 AM. And so is 11 AM, noon, 1 PM, 2 PM, etc. The hours of 10 AM - 2:30 PM no longer have any special meaning of any kind and the only thing leftover from this horrid nightmare is a good thing and that’s Mary G. Mary G, who’s now going to send Teddy Bear her “piece of mind” letter which I’ve sent to her along with the wonderful news.

There I was telling Mary not to count on any breaks from judges, but who knows now? Maybe a miracle will come her way, too. She can use this to hopefully encourage her.

The thing I’m dying to know is which judge signed me off. Could it be the same hateful, monstrous, ruthless Judge H? That’d be hard to believe. I mean, it’d take a major personality change on his part to have an ounce of compassion for me, a Jew. I wasn’t only a Jew, I was a Jew with a black against her in a state where they’re as adored as they are loathed in a place like Texas. If I don’t receive anything in the mail, we’ll get a copy of the fax from Scot. In fact, I’ll leave a message on his answering machine because I’m really curious to see who was present when this went before the judge. I’d pretty much bet that everyone who was at the sentencing was there except for the public defender. If it was Judge H that set me free, I still resent him greatly. I mean, yes it’s great that he finally did the right thing, but he’s two years too late. He could’ve stopped it right there on October 30th of ‘00 and he had every right to do so, but he didn’t, so he hasn’t won any gratitude or admiration from me, that’s for sure. Nothing can change what’s been done to me. Things have been done to help along the way and now I’ve been given a break, but it can’t undo the past 2½ years. I will never forget. I will never forgive. Forgiving has been my downfall in the past. Something I’ll never again be suckered into doing so as not to be fucked with all over again, but they can’t fuck with me all over again. Not legally anyway. There’s no way they could appeal and reinstate the probation as far as I know. The judge is God from start to finish. What he says goes, like it or not, and once again, I know those assholes do not like it. Not one bit. Tough shit, though. Yeah, you lose, you mother-fucking, scum-sucking welfare bums, you lose! Your days of victimizing me are forever over!

Speaking of God, do I have any gratitude for him now? Nope. Once again, he never should’ve let this happen in the first place. He could’ve protected me and spared me the hell I’ve been through, but he didn’t.

Tom thinks that Scot might’ve known something was going to happen and that that’s why he cut my reports. Well, he didn’t act like he knew anything was up, though I was shocked as hell that he cut my reports. I wonder, though, would this have happened anyway? Or was it because of Scot’s recommendation?

It wouldn’t surprise me if I made the papers again with the media crying out about how the poor, poor welfare bums got such a raw deal in life, screwed over once again by the “white man.” Wouldn’t that be funny? Yeah, Channel 3, wanna come ask me if I’m a racist now? Hey, I don’t discriminate, I hate everyone equally!

After Tom went back to bed, I paced throughout the house grinning like a mad idiot. I laughed and cried tears of joy and relief for hours.

The welfare bums’ money that wasn’t supposed to go to us till November will go to us in May and instead of $40 a month for each of us, we’ll have $60, plus grocery savings. Now’s when they might try to sucker a few extra bucks out of us, but we’ve got receipts to protect ourselves from this greedy, fraudulent state.

I hope I don’t get a letter saying I can do jury duty now that I’m not a little “felon” anymore, but that’s the least of my worries. I’ll still get out of it if I do. I just want to go one full year without hearing from these welfare bums and from Teddy Bear (I never thought I’d say that!), but I’ll settle for not hearing from them for just the rest of the year. I think that may be enough to reassure and console me.

We’re down to watering the plants every other day now to let their roots get established. Tom says that about 4 of the elms are finally starting to sprout leaves. I just hope the sister olies don’t take forever to grow so we can back up anything that dies with those. Once there’s a house to the north of us, it shouldn’t cost any more privacy than next door does, but we’ll lose a hell of a lot of it once there’s a house in front, so we’ll know just what to plant then. I doubt the Sharons will get high enough to give us whatever privacy they do steal.

I didn’t fall asleep till I’d been up for 18 hours which came to 7 AM. It was that old stress and anticipation thing of the possibility of the welfare bums waking me up. I don’t know where or when we’ll move next, but next time they ain’t coming with us! With tomorrow being Wednesday, I get a day off from them. Things are still going well with the truck, so I’m still hopeful that we can have them fenced out real soon.

Tom ran into the guy who sold us the trucks at the post office. Now the cock’s claiming he’s now got the title for the green truck. What lovely timing, huh? Tom’s going to pick it up sometime soon, but I think he’s just playing games. Why didn’t he call if he really got the title? If he does have it, we could then sell the green truck if we wanted to.

Tom showed me a picture of Meagan and Stacie. Yup, they definitely look the part. Totally not my type. Too young and with hair way too short. The kind that to me, belongs on a man only.

I guess a part of me does wish I could live a double life with the man I love that I live with and that’s my friend whom I share my life with, then with a woman on the side that I have wild, passionate sex with, but I know this is purely a fantasy that could never come true. Besides, I just may end up feeling all bad and guilty and like a little cheat, even though Tom and I are platonic.

Tom found me the best program yet for making stills. I’ve been Kate capturing away like crazy. Little by little, we’ll be burning the best episodes on CDs.

Got a letter from Mary who says she’s still taking classes, and yes, it’s their policy that they leave their envelopes open, though she’s not worried about it and neither am I. What I am worried about is the fact that she says she hasn’t gotten the rest of her story I sent, along with her poems and affirmations. She should’ve gotten them by now. We’ll give it another couple of weeks or so, then I’ll send it again if I have to. She hasn’t said she’s missing any letters, though.

She enclosed a note to send to Chuck, which I did, along with a copy of a computer joke I recently sent her.

She also enclosed quite an extensive commissary list. They sell Tampax and even clothes! Despite all they sell, though, they do not sell radios which really sucks. Especially when you have a loud, rude roommate like she says she’s got. At least they remodeled and put in a library.

I was surprised to hear that although there’s a tower in the center like M Dorm and A Tower had, they only walk through a few times a day when they do headcounts.

But what if someone needs something or gets sick? Especially those in PC?

The first CA episode has been successfully burned but I haven’t tried it out yet on my computer.

Tom, who once again spent the day working on the truck, said all is going well. In a couple of hours, he’ll know if we’re gonna need Dave or not to haul the fences. I hope not as I don’t want to have to see Mary, who can’t seem to let Dave go anywhere alone. Especially here. If he comes out, she comes out.

The doll was ordered, but there was no express delivery available on that particular item. They told us 6-8 weeks, but in the past, most of their dolls took about 3 weeks to get to me via regular delivery so maybe this one will, too.

Fortunately, Tom woke up just fine. It’s a damn good thing too, since I can’t seem to influence us physically.

Tom worked on the truck all day which he says is going well. He went to bed a few hours after I got up, leaving his computer to convert one of my CA episodes to fit onto a CD. They’re 4 times too big for a CD in the format they’re currently in.

This weekend we’ll be ordering the Spirit of the Snowy Owl Indian doll.

Looks like the welfare bums are going to get us both sick this time around. Yes, unfortunately, Tom has the same sore throat I had which really sucks. See, I knew for two reasons that I didn’t get what I had from him. First, it was too many days after he got sick that I got sick, and coincidentally, I got sick right after seeing Scot, so that’s the second time those welfare bums have gotten me sick and now he’s sick, too. The cold he had was fairly easy on him, but this won’t be. If it is the same thing, he’s really in for a hell of a long, sore throat, the poor guy! Like I said, I really thought I was infected.

Anyway, even though I’d had just 6 hours of sleep and woke up tired, I couldn’t go back to sleep. It didn’t take me long to perk up, though. I watered the plants and did some cleaning. Soon, I’ll exercise.

As I figured would be the case, Scot didn’t show up. No, he’s going to wait till I’m asleep or at least till we’re both home. I wasn’t kidding when I said God really wanted to use these welfare bums to whip my ass good with. So much so that I still don’t know to this day how I managed to get out of the work and class issue, much less get the privilege of now only having to report just once a month.

Tom didn’t get to the racetrack today. Instead, he went shopping. He hit the mall and checked out a used car sale, as well as bought some things we needed around the house. He even got a cheap cell phone for us to try out. If we like the service, we’ll get an additional phone and shut down the regular one.

I feel much more alive today even though I only slept for about 6 hours. Perhaps that’s because I spent a lot of time resting when I wasn’t sleeping. That sure was one weird cold, if that’s what it was, to be concentrated on my throat like that. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fierce and long sore throat like that before.

Tom bought and planted the 8 olies, but for some reason (I’ll have to ask him when he gets up), he planted them a little differently than I asked him to. They still look really good. He still thinks the bougies will flourish within a year, but that’s hard to believe.

Later…

Tom said that the reason he planted the olies like he did was that they’re different than the other ones we’ve got. They’re called something like Sister Agnes and are supposed to grow 20’ tall. If only we’d planted just those and not bothered with the regular olies and the elms which don’t seem to be doing well. Neither do the tulip trees and lavender bush I thought I brought to life. It sure seemed like I had anyway. This was why we did this experiment, though; to see who does well and who doesn’t so we know what to get next spring.

How I wish Scot would show up tomorrow (preferably after I’ve gotten up) so I can get my chance to say no, since I know he’s coming back at least once more! This is because Tom will be out all day so at least the car won’t be here. I know he won’t stop by tomorrow, though. God would never be that nice to me.

I decided to concentrate on the list of dolls I want to get that I have made up rather than go to that doll store. At least for now I’m going to. However, I am going to go to the store Tom got these olies from because he says they have a good selection of indoor plants.

The good news is that my sore throat is gone so I was able to cancel my appointment, but the bad is that I just can’t seem to perk up and get my energy back. I’m so run down and groggy. Although I slept many hours, I kept waking up constantly, even though I knew there could be no sleep interference from the welfare bums since it was Wednesday. The welfare bum stress is on for tomorrow and the next day, though. This is fucking insane, too! I mean, it’s just like in Phoenix where I’d go to bed all stressed out in anticipation of them possibly waking me up. I swear they moved right along with us and I feel like I am never ever going to wiggle free of the hold they’ve had on me for what seems like centuries! Is there really such a thing as a life without the welfare bums waiting for me in 187 days? I tell myself to relax and that it’s only a little sleep I might lose, but it’s the whole point. You know, who it stems back to – them. Always “because of them.” I still don’t have any bad vibes, but once we get to around August, on out through the rest of the year, is when we’ll want to be cautious and observant.

These drafts of Mary’s are the best written yet. I got quotes on spoken things, periods where they’re supposed to be, etc. It sure does make it easier on my part.

Tom’s going to take one of the 3 days off he has coming up to go to the track. It’s been years since he’s been to that horseracing track. He was once an excellent handicapper. I have a vibe he may win about $40, but it’s shaky since it’s a positive vibe.

No Scot this week so far. I still have a feeling God’s going to make sure I’m woken up at least once more before this shit is finally over. I just hope the fence is up soon enough and that we’re not open house to these welfare bums for too many more weeks!

My throat has been horrible. I know something up there wants me to be a major appointment junkie. All my life I’ve had a slew of appointments for various things. I’ve had more appointments than most people twice my age will ever have. Again, I got what I asked for. I really meant it when I said I’d rather be sick or injured than abused by others where there’s no fighting back and since it seems to be one or the other, that’s where I’m at right now; looking at the end of my healthy days. So, although I was determined to fight it at first and not give it what it wants, I had to break down and have Tom make an appointment for me because I think I need antibiotics. When I got up today I thought I might be on the mend, but then my throat started getting bad again. If come late tonight I think I am going to get better on my own, I’ll cancel the appointment.

I’ve been sleeping in spurts because of the pain. I fell back asleep this morning for a few hours without shutting the bedroom door or turning the fan on and never heard Tom come in, make something to eat, then the doctor’s appointment! Guess I must’ve been that out of it.

The mannequin company I called and left a message about as far as a price goes finally called back. The mannequin of theirs I liked is $1,080. No thanks! I also got an email from the one regarding another one I asked about and they’d be willing to ship to me, too. At least this one would be just $335. It’s nice to know where I can shop online for one, but I still hope to check them out in person eventually. There’s a doll store I stumbled upon online in Phoenix that we may check out sometime soon, too.

I got 5 envelopes from Mary today with letters and 22 pages of drafts. She’s lonely and tired and it’s very noisy where she is. Her dorm is overcrowded with 3 to a cell. It’s like A Tower and then some! I’d PC myself for damn sure and not give a damn what others thought of it. Her celly stole her brush and I’m sure they’re all begging up a storm.

Anyway, I’ll get working on her book stuff soon. As for my book, I don’t know where I’m heading with that. I’ve been too sick and too lazy to work on it lately. I might have myself get framed when I get released and have Kate help me get out of it, or maybe I’ll turn her into an obsessive psycho that I end up on the run from. I asked Mary for her opinion.

I’ve continued to have a sore throat off and on since Friday when I first got sick. I don’t know if this is from Tom or compliments of the welfare bums, meaning something I caught when I went to see Scot.

Speaking of those welfare bums, I’m so sick of being stressed out on account of them! Always with them, always with me. It never fucking ends! I’m back to stressing out all over again about the prospect of being woken up ever since I last saw Scot and he mentioned stopping by. Not knowing if he’s going to get carried away with that or not doesn’t help either, though I’d still rather he come here than me go there since I can ignore him here. The question is how long will he stand out there knocking? He’s never struck me as a very smart guy, so the thought of the possibility of us being picked up isn’t going to cross his mind for a second. He’s going to know damn well we’re in here, but hey, it’s our house so we’ll decide when and who visits. I’m not going to sit and worry about how he’s going to take being ignored. He’ll just have to live with it and learn how to handle it if he does get ignored and not make trouble for me if he doesn’t want us making trouble for him.

This is what I mean when I say that every time I think the welfare bums are done with me in some particular way, I come to find that they’re not. Instead, God wants me woken up at least one more time for old times’ sake, and I know those fences aren’t going to be up by mid-May. Almost all our plans either fall through or are delayed. Days turn into weeks which turn into months, sometimes even years. The fences won’t be up before June. Of that I’m sure. That’s okay, though, because another thing I’m sure of is that those welfare bums can’t own me and my life forever. Someday I’ll break free of them. Someday. There’ll really truly come a day when nothing that happens to me could possibly be because of them. Right now, though, and ever since God damned us with these people in ’96, almost everything is “because of them,” as my poem says. How I wish I could kidnap and torture the welfare bums and everyone else involved in ruining my life since we moved for every year they tortured me! But I could never do any such thing and God will continue to protect them all, blessing them with good health, happiness, love, money, success and everything they don’t deserve.

This sore throat is unbelievable. It’s so bad and I wonder when it’ll end. I usually only get a sore throat for a day, if even that, when I get colds. The rest of the cold’s been easy. No congestion, coughing or sneezing, just head pressure and fatigue. I’m still a bit weak to work out, too.

I’m now 90% sure I won’t be getting a kiln. Yes, I’d like to make dolls and maybe sell them too, but if I were meant to generate money, I’d be doing it by now. I was meant to cater to others for free, sometimes at my own expense. Also, I still fear the breakage curse and then there’s his lack of time to deal with, too. He’s not going to be leaving that bank before the year’s out and whenever he does, I’m sure the new job will be just as demanding. If I’m right about him being cursed with jobs and meant to have little free time, as is obviously the case, then while the new job might be closer, it’ll still demand a lot of his time. Maybe when he’s retired and the bulk of the home improvement jobs are done wherever we are at that time, we can get the kiln. For now, I don’t want one because I can save up for dolls a lot easier these days. My only concern will be what to do with my life when not working for Mary, but hey, it’s better than having no life at all or being miserable.

My current plan is to get that Indian doll I want. I’m only $40 away now. Then I’ll get a few mugs, the ballerina ornaments and Dalene. This shouldn’t take till November to get, so I’ll probably get something after Dalene, but come November is when I’m going to start saving for the mannequin which I should have by January. After that is when I’ll start saving for the dolls which are around $250.

Damn, my throat hurts! I hope to hell something up there isn’t trying to get me sick enough to have to make an appointment for this shit to make up for the lack of cheek trips. Just why are appointments so important to whatever’s up there anyway? If I do have to go to a doctor, though, I’ll be getting just what I asked for, in a sense. I did, after all, beg God to curse me with illness/injury versus other people for a change if he has to see me suffer.

Last night I awoke with a terribly sore throat. I haven’t had a throat this sore in well over a decade. I don’t think I have a cold, though. I feel like all I have is a bad sore throat and I’m tired, too. That’s because I only slept from midnight to 3:00, then from 5:00 to 7:00. I doubt I’d have slept much past 9:00 as a big boom shook the closet door in its frame right about then.

Again, we didn’t get any plants because Walmart didn’t have a good selection. Tom said that on Monday he’ll get them from Home Depot. They didn’t have any fake or real indoor plants I liked, and they also had a shitty shoe and Barbie selection.

I did get a packet of 3 pink water lilies for our future pond if we ever really do get around to making one, colored paper, pet food, and a few other household things.

They didn’t have any adult clothes that interested me, so I hit the girl’s section. I got a tie-dye shirt that fits perfectly, and a pair of lavender shorts with embroidered flowers and butterflies that’s too small. I’m pissed, too! I should’ve tried the damn things on. Perhaps my future mannequin can wear them. I hate it, though, when people don’t answer my phone calls or email. All I want is a fucking price and nobody will give me one! I think it’s mostly because most of these places don’t want to sell to individuals. They want to sell to companies.

Tom says he thinks the fences will be all done by the second week in May. Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. He said that by next weekend he’ll know if there are to be any serious delays with the truck switchover and will ask Dave to haul in the wire and gate for us.

Tom saw a snake yesterday, so winter is officially over.

We talked about the different mannequin sites I’ve checked out and decided that we just may very well go to California. No one sells mannequins in Arizona that we could find, so we might go to this place in San Francisco that sells used ones way cheap. That way I can see exactly what I’m getting and can get out of shipping/handling costs. When we’re there we may stop in to see Steven and Carol. They’re cool, though I’ve only seen them a few times. I didn’t realize it was only 10-12 hours from here to there if you stick to the freeway! This won’t be till the end of the year or the beginning of next, though. Around November is when I’ll start saving a few hundred for it. However, I know how our plans tend to fall through, so if January becomes March which becomes May, etc., I’ll just order online.

I really don’t like having the anticipation of Scot stopping by slapped back on me. I don’t know what’s worse – actually being woken up by him or going to bed when I’m on nights with the stress of the fact that the possibility is there. Nonetheless, I’m still so psyched that I only have to go to him 6 more times! This is the first time in two years with just one appointment a month! I’m afraid God will compensate Miss Queen of Appointments here and give me others. As it is, we really do need to find me a decent specialist to clean this ear out. They can do it in one swipe, but we can’t. We don’t have the proper tools and knowledge.

I knew ever since I got out of jail that the fences wouldn’t be allowed by fate to be up till we got down to within the last 6 months. The more I came to believe that last August was his last visit, the more I began to wonder why, but now I know. It’s because God’s not done bringing the black’s shit to the home front. Even so, I’ve resigned myself to 3 things. One is that I will not open the door if he comes knocking when I’m asleep. Two is that I’m going to make the next home visit where I’m awake the last one. After that, I will no longer answer the door to Scot B awake or not simply because it’s not necessary. I am not a criminal! Third is that I’m considering myself to have just 5½ months to go of this shit. In my mind, I’m done doing business with Scot on October 2nd, my final report date. I take that back, we’re not finished with each other that day in my mind, but in reality! That means I will not be accepting any house calls, phone calls, etc., pertaining to these welfare bums once we reach that date.

Never again will I allow myself to be taken for the ride of my life like I was. I won’t even allow myself to be screwed over even just a fraction of the degree that I was.

Yesterday was the first time the cat let me pat him. It is a male, though he’s not as fat as he looks. I still think he’s a stray like 90% of the animals are in this town. Tom said he’s seen dog catchers out and about. I’m sure they’ve got their work cut out for them big time! In Phoenix, however, they have super strict laws about loose dogs. They have super strict laws about everything!

I siphoned the fish tank yesterday and it’s almost as filthy as the big tank was when I cleaned it out and moved everybody. I’m thinking that most of the fine brown particles aren’t all shit and food, but rather coming from the clumps of dirt the live plants live in. I put them in with the bettas since I change every drop of their water. With the tank, I just go down to about 3”.

I watered the plants then got my shower out of the way before I knew I’d be on the welfare bums’ clock, though I shouldn’t have. I should just live my life as if they truly are done with me on the home front, and who knows? Maybe Scot will never put his actions where his mouth is, though I wouldn’t count on it.

I just hope it won’t be long before the fences are up!

Later…

Since I really do want a mannequin quite bad and have found one I really like, I think I’ll get her after I get just a few more things. I’ll squeeze her in the middle of my list. I’ve decided to drop Sydney, too. I’ll get the Indian doll I’m currently saving for, my mugs, the ballerina ornaments, and Dalene, then I’ll save for the mannequin.

One of the bettas died, but I’m not in a hurry to replace it. After the other two go I’ll get a few new ones since I have 3 bowls.

The cool weather has kept the renters visible. They were out pretty much all day. I thought I heard a puppy barking back there and that still worries me. When these puppies grow up, what are they going to do with them? Are they going to keep them all in the house or turn them loose? They won’t be able to get onto our land if we can ever get this place fenced, but I don’t want to hear them.

Got two letters from Mary today. One confirmed that she got the first big manila envelope which I was happy to hear. She said it looked fabulous and that she liked the colored paper. I figured she would. I think we’re both color freaks!

She’s going to classes and working out. She watches movies in the dayroom. Because of her unwanted fame, she’s aware of the other inmates talking shit about her but holds her own. She doesn’t want to PC herself either and make them think she’s scared of them.

She’d only gotten 2 of the 6 letters I sent, but by now she must be up to 4 or 5.

This ear of mine is a definite lifelong curse from God. How I wish they never created the canal! It’s such a bitch to deal with.

I put a cactus figurine I painted a bright turquoise in ’94 out by the queen palm and it looks cool out there. Its brightness stands out.

I have 3 hours and 45 minutes of sheer boredom. (we’re leaving at noon) I could work on my story, but I’m not exactly in the mood.

Anyway, I hope he isn’t too sick or tired when he gets up so we can enjoy the stores afterward, but if we have to postpone it, we will.

I missed my bangs and cut them back yesterday. They look much better on me than with my hair parted in the middle. Especially with such a low forehead and wide face.

This weather is unfuckingbelievable. It was down to 38° outside when I got up at 6:00 and 69° inside. We don’t have to worry about sweating our way to Casa Grande this time around.

As always, I have to wonder – are there any nasty surprises waiting for me? I don’t sense it, so I guess that’s good. It’s just that it’s been a few months since there have been any changes. Not seeing Scot for over two months is quite a change in itself, but I mean with the rules in general. I’m more worried about being tested by POs who don’t know me. Hopefully, though, if Scot didn’t brief them on who’s who, they can at least look and see that I’ve only had 4 tests, see the growing gaps between each test, and realize it wouldn’t be necessary before I have to fight giving my body once again to the state to use and abuse at will.

For the first time ever, Tom remained in the waiting room the last time and I’m going to ask that he do so from now on, with or without Scot. This way I’ll have more of a sense of independence, so to speak, like I’m saying, “I’m not afraid to face you guys alone and I don’t need my husband hovering over me for protection,” not that that’s necessarily what they thought.

Gonna go water the plants now.

Later…

Yes! I did it! One of the tulip trees and the lavender bush are now showing signs of growth. The other tulip tree is still the same. All the other plants are doing well, though there are a few elms and Sharons I question. It’s okay if a few of the elms don’t make it because of the oleanders in front of them as a backup. It’s also okay if a few Sharons don’t make it because we can always get extras for fill-ins next year. Besides, the only purpose of the Sharons is for bordering. The poplars are definitely doing the best. They’re getting leafier by the day. I’ve got to take monthly pictures of them. I’m sure the changes will be quite amazing. They weren’t kidding when they said these were fast-growing trees. If they survive the heat and then the next freeze, and I’m sure they will, they just might provide a little shade as soon as next summer. From what I’ve seen so far, though, I can totally believe these things will be 50’ – 80’ tall in just 4 years. It seems like it’s going to take these palm trees 20 years to reach their mature height.

Later…

Well, I have what’ll no doubt be my most shocking news since I’ve been home. Scot said that since they won’t let me go (he never used the word “victim”), and since he agrees it makes no sense to report twice a month, he’s now cut me to just once a month!!! I have to keep pinching myself to make sure it’s real, but yes, Mr. Serious himself, who I thought would never give me any breaks, told me I could start reporting the first Wednesday of each month! He warned me, though, that if there are any violations, I’d be right back up to two monthly reports. I assured him I’ve come too far to mess up now, so he need not worry (I still have to worry about others saying I did, though, since they’d be the ones to be believed, but I still don’t sense any trouble looming ahead, fortunately).

He recommended we go to the courthouse in August, pay off the rest of the money, get a receipt, then bring it to him in September.

My only concern with this new arrangement is him making up for lost report time in-home visits, and he did mention stopping by, too. I can see maybe one more visit, but any more than that would surely make me wonder cuz it wouldn’t make sense. After all, if he felt he couldn’t trust me enough that he had to come to the house more often, then why cut my reports in the first place? You never know, though. That’s the one area where he hasn’t been predictable. His house calls have been known to be erratic. I’m back to wanting to get the fences up like yesterday, just in case he does get visit-happy on me. At least I can’t have much more than 6 months of whatever’s in store for me and I don’t have to go to him as much. I’d rather he come to me where I have the choice of saying no and ignoring the door, and if those fucking welfare bums do end up waking me up again, I am not getting out of bed for them! Meaning, if he comes when I’m asleep. I wonder if he’d have visited in February or March had he not gotten ill. All he said when I asked what happened to him was that he had some serious medical problems, but he didn’t say what, so I didn’t push it and ask. It’s none of my business, and besides, I’m just glad he’s back.

Anyway, I’m still completely blown away. I mean, this morning when I got up, I had 13 more reports as far as I was concerned and now I’ve got 6!

Do I think he’ll test me? No, because so far he’s been predictable and has kept his word in that department, but at least the amount of times I had to worry about that has been cut in half.

I beat him to it as far as how much time was left and informed him there were 197 days left, and he asked if I was marking the days on the calendar. As a matter of fact, I am, I told him.

Because of Tom’s cold, we skipped the stores. We agreed to go back on Friday instead.

This weather is unbelievable. It’s mid-April yet it’s cold out! It’s wet and windy, too. I won’t need to water my friends today. No change with the tulip trees or lavender bush. The question is, are they alive or just dormant? When you get bare-root plants, it’s hard to tell.

Anyway, I wish it could be like this tomorrow when we go out. I’ll have to sweat my ass off for these welfare bums enough as it is in the upcoming months.

I really do hope Scot’s back. I didn’t like him, but I was at least comfortable with him. With these other POs, I can never know what they may get in mind to do, so he can come on back, tell me that with a “victim like this” I can’t get off probation early, then tell me how much time I have left as if I didn’t know or might forget.

I still can’t believe I once felt the judge wasn’t to blame because he was simply going along with the sentencing laws, but after having time to reflect on things, I realized that that’s no excuse. Any normal, decent judge would’ve stepped back and declared 3 years unreasonable and unfair, yet he didn’t so I very much blame him. He could’ve done the right thing and he didn’t. He still could’ve done the right thing when Scot recommended I get on with my life, but no. Everyone knows I don’t deserve or need to be on probation and it’s more than obvious that they’re doing it just to do it just because they can.

I was wrong, but not so wrong on my vibe about that guy returning to work. He did return, but Meagan was out, so he still had to work twice as hard. What are his employees doing? Making sure that at least one of them is absent? Do they secretly find out ahead of time who’s going to be absent and decide on who it should be just to make Tom’s life more miserable? He’s miserable as it is with a severe head cold. He said he never had a cold come on this fast. Just yesterday all he had was a scratchy throat. He says he hopes it’ll go away fast since it came on fast and that I might get it. Not a chance, I assured him. I’d have to be severely sleep-deprived like I was in jail in order to get sick. I told him not to put himself out on account of the blacks if he’s too sick to go out tomorrow. I’ll report next week if we have to and they’ll just have to live with it. He said, though, that he’d be fine for going out.

Tom told me some astonishing news on his way to work last night. Both bougainvilleas show signs of life! Both of them! I asked if he was wondering what I was wondering, and he said yes. Did I really do this? If so, that was quite a delayed reaction time, and I know the bougie on the left was dead. It couldn’t have been any more dead if it tried. Again, I have to wonder, do I really have the power to heal and make ill as I do with the ability to sense past and future events? It sure seems so and this is one of the reasons that makes me all the more convinced that what I had going with the pictures really was real.

Guess I got a concentration date with a couple of dead tulip trees, I told Tom. Those, along with the lavender bush, show no signs of life yet so I’m concentrating really hard on those.

When we go to the store on Wednesday, I’m going to get 8 oleanders. I decided I want to get the crucial areas going, and I plan to put one in front of the well’s tank and the others along the back wash by the others. Then, if the Sharons really do make it, we’ll order some next year to expand the property splitter with, along with finishing the perimeter borders. We’ll probably use the money for this that we would’ve spent on the Hawaiian attire. Yes, the wedding, as I’m happy to report, has been called off. I’m glad, too. I’m a lot less sociable than I was curious. I don’t know these people and all I really need is my best friend Mary as far as friends go. This doesn’t mean that they won’t put it back on schedule or reschedule it at a later date, but we’ll see. Maybe Meagan will meet and marry someone else.

Anyway, there’s this young shy guy at work whose brother was killed in a motorcycle accident so he’s been absent. Tom feels he’s going to return, but I don’t vibe it. So far, I’ve been right too, cuz he seems to keep coming up with all these different excuses to call out of work or just not show up at all.

I am so through with the diet bullshit. Totally through with it. It’s a hopeless battle. I’ve tried to use my psychic ability as well as common sense and I just can’t get any more weight off. Yesterday I went right back up to 125, too. I’m just sick of the whole thing. I’ll make sure I don’t gain any more weight, but I’m sick of trying to lose weight I can’t lose. Either I get stuck or I lose the willpower and I pig out. I’m a chubby girl and that’s that.

Mary got a message from Chuck saying he can’t believe that Eileen was picked up, please let him know what she can about what, when, and where and he can go after her and her husband. He hopes she can settle in and continue with her book. He also hopes the conditions in Florida are better than Arizona. If she needs his assistance on the case in Florida, let him know. He could probably get out there for a bit this summer, and is there any word on when Justin’s trial will be set?

Just 196 days left with the welfare bums! There are only about 100 days left where Scot, or some PO, could come to the house, but I doubt I’ll let them in simply because it’s not necessary. I already resigned myself to the knowledge that we’re at least done with the welfare bums on the home front and I’d like to keep it that way. Well, the only way to keep it that way is to make it that way which means ignoring the door if anyone comes knocking. I don’t like uninvited company anyway.

I just hope there aren’t any more surprises in store for me. I’m no longer worried about classes, but there are still tests and God knows what else. I don’t sense them pulling anything else on me, but I’m not home free yet. In the home stretch, but not home-free.

It’s cooler and cloudy out there today. I doubt we’ll need the AC today.

Dave sent a really funny list of computer problems and complaints people called tech support about. You have to have a basic knowledge of computers to appreciate the humor in it as it sure is funny if you do! I always did say most people are stupid for a reason and they are!

As I was showering earlier, it hit me that my femininity might not have been such a big deal as I may’ve thought it was as far as attracting other women go. In jail, I was wondering how the hell it could be that I was getting hit on more than I had in all the gay bars I’d been to in the past combined as a middle-aged, overweight woman. Well, maybe that’s why I got hit on more. Meaning, maybe it was my scrawniness in the past that was hindering me and maybe I looked too young. I did, after all, look more like a girl than a woman throughout my 20s, and that, plus being so small like I once was, is more of a guy thing. They’re the ones into that petite kiddy thing. That’s why so many cocks dump their wives when they get older and lose interest in them. Meanwhile, perhaps it really is true that most gay women don’t want women so young-looking and small that may come off as too prissy to them. Maybe my chunkiness is why I attract women easier now than I did in the past, not that I want to go out and meet women. If one comes to me, we’ll see. If not, fine. I may still not be what most gay women want (though I do know how to attract an ugly butch), but I think it really was a question of size versus femininity.

Once when I was listening to the radio in jail, there was this call-in thing for lesbians to meet each other. One of the callers was 4’ 10”, 90 pounds. The girl she was trying to get together with insisted she was simply too small. Never before have I heard of a man rejecting a woman for being too small. Too fat and too old, yes, but never too small. This makes me more convinced that women prefer heavier women as opposed to cocks that prefer skinny ones. My shortness would be another mark against me in the gay world and another asset, not that it’s any compliment to me, in the straight world.

Later…

That damn bank is continuing to own my husband and run him ragged. He’s married more to that job than to me, so it’s a good thing I’m independent and can find things to entertain myself with. One person after another has a problem. I’m just so fucking sick of the world’s problems falling on us! When are we ever going to have a life so we can get shit done around here? Tom worked on the truck a little, but we have so, so much more to do. This is the second week in a row he’s not only been forced to work way overtime but 6 days a week. Why oh why must we be forced to shoulder the world’s burdens?!

These angelfish sure beg for food a lot and are so brave that if I hold the food just at the surface of the water, they yank it out of my hand. I like how they seem to know what’s going on around them and how they watch my every move, whereas the others seem to be in their own little world. What’s weird is that one stayed the same size while the other got huge. It’s easily 6” long.

I don’t know why they call these trees Palo Verde’s when they’re sprouting little yellow flowers, but anyway, it’s that time of year when the bees are out buzzing away like crazy.

I still can’t believe how big those vultures are. One was circling around me overhead and checking me out, but Tom assured me they don’t attack people.

I had fun watering the plants and got some more color while doing it. It’s so cool to have something like this in which I take so much pride. It’s like creating and building something like a work of art that you watch grow little by little. I took some pictures of the most promising things. The oleanders, poplars and the Sharons are doing the best, but Tom was right; the lavender and tulip trees show no signs of life. The bulbs haven’t shot up yet either, but when they do, I’m sure the wildlife will destroy them. At least those were free. The palms are holding their own, the second bougainvillea’s barely alive, and the elms might just be beginning to sprout leaves, but we can’t be sure yet. The real test will be how they handle the heat of the summer. There shouldn’t be a problem. After all, we checked to make sure we were in the right zone when ordering. Also, if they couldn’t grow here, they wouldn’t ship them here.

It’s cool how my watering attracts butterflies. All kinds of pretty monarchs. All kinds of annoying flies, too.

Of the pink, white and red oleanders, my favorite is the red. It’s a deep, rich shade of red. The white is my second favorite because it’s so bright. The pink, however, is a rather dull shade.

My plan, and I’ll take the money out of my allowance, is to grab an oleander every time I’m in Casa Grande and I still have lots more trips to make. (13) What I want to do since they grow so well, so fast and are pretty, is to expand left and right along the back wash. I also want to put one in front of the well’s water tank. When I say, “in front,” I mean from the bedroom’s point of view. From the bedroom window, you can see the tank and I want to put one in front of it so that’s what we see instead. It’ll take a couple of years, though, before they’re full and high. It’ll take about 3 oleanders to the right of the line we’re creating by the back wash to block their driveway. I wouldn’t see it from the kitchen window with the stuff full-grown, but I could from the retreat’s window. I’ll also need 3 to the left of what we’ve got to block out the houses themselves. They’d be blocked from the retreat’s window, but not the kitchen, once they reach their said mature height of 12’ - 15’. After I’ve done that, I’ll continue to branch out a way in both directions, especially to the left as I know it’s only a matter of time before the fourth and final rental is hauled in behind the 3 existing ones. It sucks that we’re going to have to wait a whole year to order more plants by mail, but at least by then we’ll know what to get for sure. I know I want more poplars and Sharons. Perhaps that’s all we’ll get. I’d like to extend our line of poplars in back towards the right and add 3-5 more back there, then maybe in front too, though I don’t know where they’d go. As long as they didn’t block my view of the palms they could maybe go just in front of the wash or maybe just behind the palms.

If for some reason the Sharons die, I’ll oleander the perimeters, but only along the front and sides just till they meet with the wash behind the house as they’re more expensive. About $5 for a small one. I want to get next door’s ugly shacks out of sight too, though they’re not nearly as easy to see as they used to be. Not ever since we had that vicious summer storm, followed by a wetter winter which thickened things up.

Anyway, the landscaping adventure has been so much fun and I’m really looking forward to turning this place into quite a palace, though I expect it’ll take years.

There’s also the chance that I may get live indoor palms rather than a fake one. Tom says there are live, fern plants that are very palm-like and they’re cheaper than fake ones. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s talking about, too. I’ll have to water them a few times a week and buy a decorative pot to place them in, but it may save a lot of money and then I can get 2-3. The house is so damn big it could use some. Especially in the living room. I might even put one in my office, too.

Later…

Just spotted the first dust devil of the year.

I wonder if Scot will be back on Wednesday. I still prefer him not to return anytime soon, especially before the next progress report so I don’t have to hear about the “victim,” though if I don’t hear it then, I’m sure I’ll hear it at the end, if not sooner. It’s just that I don’t want any of these other POs to get it in mind to test me. Maybe Scot left instructions with them on who to do what with and informed them that they need not stop by the house or test me. I hope that’s the case. Or maybe, unless they see obvious signs of funny behavior, they just don’t care, especially since I’m not their client.

I forgot to say that I think they inspected Mary’s mail to me, as in steamed it open, then put a piece of scotch tape on it afterward. It was as if I took an envelope, and rather than licked it, I closed it and put a piece of tape over half of its flap. What they’d be looking for, I don’t know.

Today it’s been exactly 20 years since I jumped. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long, and at the same time, it seems like it was a century ago.

As always, the welfare bums have to take precedence over everything else, so although I’m going to try my best, I’m not going to kill myself trying to get to the wedding. At least I couldn’t be thrown in jail for it if I didn’t make it! I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I were hit on at the wedding for two reasons. One, I’m married now, and two, I don’t look like I did a decade ago. Andy used to insist when I was a 100-pound 24-year-old, that the reason so many women didn’t hit on me was that they were intimidated by my looks, though I still think it was because of my femininity. Maybe not, though, for I may now be a 122-pound (yes, I lost another pound), 37-year-old, but I’m still quite feminine!

I got a nice long letter from Mary. She started off by telling me she could use some of my jokes, so I decided that the next thing to go out would be the envelope with the jokes, among other things.

She described her 7-day journey of a nightmare in vivid detail. I was wrong in assuming they slept on the bus. They were actually holed up in various jails along the way. They were strip-searched and walked to and fro at gunpoint by the extradition officers, though I’d rather that than have to pee in front of people. The surprising and good thing about it, though, is that they played an endless slew of DVDs on the bus! One jail even gave each inmate two packs of cigarettes and two books of matches! Mary smoked like a chimney, she told me.

She told me of her favorite actress and actors and I told her of my favorite actresses. As young as she is, I don’t even know if she knows who Kate Jackson is, and if so, has she seen her in the 70s when she was on Charlie’s Angels?

I had to laugh when she said she was by the “golf” when it’s spelled “gulf.”

I guess the reason she didn’t fly to Florida was due to the threat of terrorist attacks. Plus, she said something about a shooting that happened on the freeway near the airport. She thought she was going to the airport when she first boarded the bus, but as she’d learned, she was quite wrong on that one. Wearing street clothes along the way, the first place she was brought to was Florence prison which she said was cold, dark and scary with tons of male inmates everywhere. From Florence, she went to Albuquerque, Amarillo, Oklahoma City, Little Rock, Memphis, Nashville, Knoxville, Birmingham, Montgomery, Pensacola, Tallahassee, Orlando, Tampa, Sarasota, and finally Fort Myers. She was sick as a dog and bruised from the cuffs, belly chains and shackles upon arrival. She said Fort Myers was totally different than when she was there in 2000 as they had remodeled.

She mentioned Terri stopping in to see her, the DA she’s a witness for. There’s still a chance that she may possibly get 10 years in prison, but at least she already has 3 years in towards whatever she ends up getting. Who knows, though? Maybe this really isn’t the homestretch. But at least if she goes to prison, she won’t be on the road for a week first. They’ll just take her to the local prison. I still vibe a late ’05 release, though, so we’ll see. It’s too soon to know for sure what to expect, but we know she’s going to be where she is right now for a while. Who knows how many delays there’ll be with this trial? Scot, her private attorney there, told her to get comfortable, and her aunt, who she says is ill, told her to spend away and do whatever she needs to to be comfortable.

Another reason she was moved, she said, was to make it easier on the detectives and DA.

She feels empty and confused but is taking self-help classes and taking means to achieve her GED as she only has a 4th-grade level.

She says that since she’s getting along with the other inmates in the dorm she’s in which houses 24 women, she’s gone GP. I guess the dorm she’s in is similar to an Estrella pod with a day room and tiers of cells. All they do is close your door when you’re PC. They can’t open/close their doors as they wish.

When I filled Tom in on the highlights of her letter, he told me that very few places, like Estrella, make you work. It was just my shit luck I had to be in Estrella then, huh? Had I known a few months before I was sentenced, when they hauled me to Florence, that I’d have to do 6 months no matter what, I would not have bonded out. I’d have stayed there, so I could do at least 4 of the 6 months in Florence, which I personally found to be a lot nicer, before being transferred to Phoenix.

The sucky thing is that she’s got bars on the door. I know I prefer steel/Plexiglas. How thunderous the noise must be! So, I guess where she is is like A400 with an open pod where they can go in and out of their cells, but if they close their doors they’ll lock. I don’t know if I’d like that. I wouldn’t want all the people out and about in the pod all day pestering me at my door, and I’d be afraid of being ripped off while I was in the shower or something.

She assured me she’d hold her own if anyone tried to attack her and go after them as if they were Monster himself.

She’s definitely done with Todd, Michelle and the whole family and said not to bother sending their Christmas card.

I emailed Chuck a note for her and assured her I’d get a big manila envelope and a letter out to her later on today when Tom goes grocery shopping.

Speaking of books, I was so, so flattered when she asked for my autobiography! Usually, I have to offer and don’t get asked first. You don’t know how flattering that was to me! Yes, I’ll send it like she asked when all of her stuff is sent. The funny thing is that I was going to ask if she wanted a new copy because it’s been revised, edited and corrected a bit since she first read it.

I got a kick out of how she said that as far as a guy goes, “Not only will I have Chuck do a background check on them, but he doesn’t have to be normal, just not abuse me mentally, verbally or physically.”

No one’s “normal,” I assured her, but still, I got where she was coming from. I also had to laugh when she said social drinking was okay, but no profanity. We’d make a lousy pair if I were a guy or she was gay since I don’t drink, but I do swear a lot!

She enjoys the tropical climate and says the food’s great. They get eggs (I take it they’re real), pancakes, hot Hamburger Helper meals and unlimited coffee. This makes me realize all the more just how demented Sheriff Joe really is!

She got my first letter alright, but obviously sent this letter to me right before she would’ve received the first manila envelope, so long as they let her have it.

She said that if she had to have anyone in the whole world to be my best friend, she’s glad it’s me. How sweet! She’s definitely my best friend, too.

The officers there are simply called officers. They don’t use the words COs, DOs, Ad-Seg or tank orders. Those are called information slips.

Also, they can receive 5x7 pictures. The other places only allowed 3x5. I’ve already got stuff printed out at 3x5, but after that, I’ll remember to make them 5x7.

Lastly, she says she’s working on her book but is unsure of where she left off. Therefore, I sent her the last few paragraphs she sent me before she left so she could take it from there.

The oleanders and the poplars are doing so well. The oleander’s blooms are really sprouting and the poplars are already sprouting leaves! The Rose of Sharon and elms are doing okay, but the lavender bush, bulbs and tulip trees aren’t showing any signs of life yet. We probably won’t be able to order more plants by mail till next spring, so maybe we can plant oleanders throughout the year till then? Just not as many since they’re more expensive. If they were as cheap as the Rose of Sharon I’d just as well do the perimeters with those, but they’re a few bucks each and that’d add way up.

It’s neat how some of the plants we got by mail were grown in Tennessee while others were grown in Minnesota.

I knew my math was shitty, but not that shitty. I said in a previous entry that I’d be an adult for as long as I was a kid when I turned 38, but actually, that happened when I was 36.

I moved the fish out of the big aquarium to the smaller one for a few reasons. Well, for one, since our shit always has to break, the filter went out. The water was clouding up pretty bad so I made the transfer and now they’re in the kitchen where I can easily be their filter by regularly siphoning water out into the nearby sink like I should’ve done in a bucket when they were in the living room. The tank was filthy! Absolutely filthy. When I got things stirred up, the water was so brown I could barely make out the fish themselves.

Once I got it all set up, I had to laugh when I tried to imagine trying to do this in the old kitchen in Phoenix. No way! Not with just 4 outlets. This kitchen has 20 and we’re only using 7.

I was explaining my book to Tom in more detail, describing the off-the-wall jail I’m in with Kate, and he said it’s not as off-the-wall as I might think. Then he explained to me how trainers sometimes stay with the trainees in their tents during military training.

Maybe it’s not so crazy after all. Camp counselors stay and live in each cabin with the campers during the summer. At least they did in the camps I attended in Maine.

Anyway, Mary may have no clue as far as punctuation, caps and paragraphs go, but she sure is a hell of a writer, particularly with the juicy stuff, and she’s inspired me greatly. The story, as weird as it may be, is going really well if I do say so myself. The steamy parts are well-written. I sent Tom a sex clip of hers and what I’ve got so far on my story, even though it’s under 20 pages.

Yesterday I finally got down to 123, though I kind of cheated by taking a water pill. I guess I just figured who cares if I take something to lose something that’s putting weight and inches on me as long as it’s not bone or muscle and as long as I don’t get carried away? Water puts weight and pounds on a person just like fat does.

I’ve now known Tom for a decade which is like – wow!

The power was off for two hours yesterday morning. Tom thinks it might’ve had something to do with them stringing wire to the new Bashas in town. It went off a few seconds twice before too, so that’s 3 power failures in less than a week.

In other news, Tom says we’ve got kangaroo rats running around here which is cool, and he showed me how to hack into a Charlie’s Angels site that won’t let you download their pictures. It’s so simple, too. All I had to do was view the file source, find the name of the jpeg, replace its name after the com/, then hit enter and download away.

I was wrong when I said that all of Mary’s mail was returned to me. Pictures I had sent to Fort Myers which I’d forgotten all about came back yesterday, so now I guess that’s it. Now all I have to do is just hope she’s gotten what’s been sent to Naples. She could have the big envelope by now, but I doubt it. I think that will more likely get to her, provided there’s no problem with it, today or tomorrow. The card enclosed has me a bit worried. I mean, wouldn’t they wonder why someone was receiving a Christmas card in April?

Yesterday I was so bored that I was a touch depressed. I suggested getting the kiln now when Tom got in from work and said I could figure it out for myself, but he was like, “It’s not that I don’t think you can figure it out, I just worry you’ll burn the house down.”

“Now why would I do that?” I asked, but he seemed to keep changing the subject. It’s like he’s not really all that into the idea of getting the kiln or something. Then he seemed annoyed and said he was sorry he wasn’t there to entertain me more.

“I’m not complaining or blaming you,” I told him, “and I don’t need you to entertain me.”

“It sounds like you’re complaining,” he said.

Yeah, I guess I was, but since he obviously didn’t want to hear it, I quickly perked up for his sake and told him I’d go read. See, he just doesn’t understand. How could he? He’s never been in my situation to understand.

Either way, Mary’s drafts will soon start up again and I’ll be working again for others and for free in no time at all, and to hell with what I may want to do. At least I can still have fun shopping. I mean, my life is still basically a good one that could be and has been a lot worse. A little boredom every now and then won’t kill me. It’s better than having such a hectic schedule where you don’t even have a life at all.

Still, I have a feeling that if I don’t mention the kiln, he won’t either.

I just wish people would stop using him and ripping him off. He’s so overworked at that fucking bank. He’s supposed to have 8 people working for him yet they’re always, always calling in sick, leaving him to do their work for them. He’s also forced to work so much overtime that he doesn’t get paid for. I really wish he could get a job in Casa Grande with normal hours and no overtime, but overtime he’d be paid for if he did do any. I wouldn’t care what shift. I just wish he had more of a normal, predictable work schedule. God would just tie him down with something else, though, if he did. Anything to him from having much free time to do things around here. See, all we do is work for others and it’s either for free or for not what we should get. He does more for that damn bank than for this place!

The April fence vibes have faded a bit, but I still sense that at least the posts will all be up this month.

In light of what I wish to discuss tonight in this journal, I have encrypted it. It doesn’t take quite as long to do now that I’ve got a faster computer. ‘Kate Jackson rocks’ is my key. My reason for doing this is so I can write more freely. What I mean is that I’m like most people where I wouldn’t give a damn if a perfect stranger read my journals, versus someone I knew. Even those I know wouldn’t faze me, so long as it wasn’t Tom, Mary or anyone like Scot. Then again, I’d pick Scot if one of the 3 had to read them. It’s just that when those you know and are closest to read your personal thoughts and secrets, you have to live with whatever their reaction and feelings may be and with the knowledge of them knowing about them. I’d even prefer the welfare bums read my journals before Tom did, though they’d just go running to the police about them. I’ve always believed that Tom doesn’t read my journals, but nothing and no one in life is 100% guaranteed, so I don’t want to take chances. Not with what I wish to write about tonight. I know Tom’s a computer expert who could possibly have a way in which I know nothing about that could enable him to break into my journals, though nothing he could read could cause him to want to leave me or love me any less. It’s just that a person has to have some privacy in life. What he doesn’t always know won’t hurt him. I mean, I know he’s a pretty open-minded kind of guy and I have discussed what I’m about to get into somewhat with him. Well, sort of. Not in grave detail perhaps, but I’ve mentioned it. I’ve never even written about it yet. It’s my deepest secret, just about, and when I print this journal out, I’ll omit this section. It is definitely the most bizarre thing I’ll ever write about.

Most people would say I was crazy when it comes to what I’m about to say. Even I’ve had to step back and ask myself, “Are you sure about this? You sure it’s not just pure wishful thinking, just a fantasy?” But I know it’s not. I know it’s as real as these words I type. What am I talking about? I’m talking about the ability to communicate through photographs of people as long as their eyes are looking into the camera. Without eye contact, I can’t do it. I can do it with anybody’s picture too, as far as I know, and I did this using celebrity pictures mainly between the ages of 10-25. I don’t know why I was given this ability. Perhaps it was given to me as a coping mechanism. I mean, if anyone needed a friend to talk to who wouldn’t turn against me, it was me. With them, I was accepted unconditionally. At least I’m pretty sure I was. What prompted me to finally write about them? I don’t know, perhaps it’s because of how much I miss them. I’ve always missed them, but it seems to be more so lately. I think of them every day, wishing I could have them back to show them our home, my dolls, the animals, and to tell them of all that’s gone on since I last saw them. How shocked and thrilled they’d be to hear it all!

There are two main groups of pictures. The first group from when I was between 10-18 consists of pictures of Linda Ronstadt and Kate Jackson. The second group I had was mostly Gloria Estefan pictures, pretty much between ages 21-26. Tears sting my eyes as I miss them so! But I, along with Domineering Doe, destroyed them. I don’t know. I guess I just felt it was time to move on. I felt like I had no privacy for I knew that putting them in a closet, for example, wouldn’t stop them from being able to hear, just not see. I don’t know how I knew this, but I knew things about their own abilities. I knew they only knew English, I knew they could hear/see about as well as people could, etc. I don’t know if they had any sense of feeling or smell.

I spoke for them. Meaning, when they spoke, I spoke as they spoke so others could hear since there was more than one picture. I never saw them move or heard their words, I simply sensed their words. Looking back on it now, they probably knew and understood more about life and what was going on around me than I realized. I didn’t realize back then myself, for example, just how traumatizing my jumping out the window must’ve been for those who were on the wall in the room from which I jumped. I just didn’t think of these things back then, but by then they’d certainly come to care for me. I was all they knew. They could see other people if they were within their range of sight, but they couldn’t communicate with them. As far as other people were concerned, they were merely pictures on a wall. My parents were aware of my obsession with these pictures. I know that much. I think that’s why she ditched some of the Kate and Linda pictures when I was around 10-12 and then the Gloria ones that were left behind when I came out here. Most of my stuff was shipped out here from the NHA in CT, but when Art ran out of boxes, he took the remainder of my stuff back to Florida with him and shipped it from there. Obviously, the pictures were leftover and once Doe got to them, they got to the trash. I doubt it was Art that dumped them. That was much more of a Doe thing. To take, to control, that was her thing. It gave her a sense of power, freedom and superiority.

Out of all the celebrities and people I’ve known personally that I’ve been attracted to, Kate definitely ranks #1. I don’t know what it is with that tall, thin, brown-eyed, brown-haired tomboy. Again, she’s in the middle like I like them to be, not too feminine, not too masculine. I must point out, however, that I was not sexually attracted to Kate at first. I was just a kid. I simply had a crush on her and found her pretty. I’d often fantasize about winning a contest that allowed me to meet her. In my fantasy, school would’ve just let out and instead of spending a miserable summer at the beach with my miserable family, I’d get to fly out to California, a place I always dreamed of going, to meet with Kate on the set of Charlie’s Angels. After I met her and her costars, she’d show me around and take me to her beautiful house or condo where I’d spend the summer with her. I’d be special to her. She’d find me cute and wish she could rescue me from my unpleasant home life and maybe even adopt me. How excited I’d be to fly out to her and how miserable I’d be to leave her come Labor Day to return to a family that made my life hell and a school I hated! I forgot about her for a while in my late teens and early 20s, but lately, the fantasy is that I meet her as an adult and there isn’t the 17-year age gap there is in real life, and we get it on from there. The funny thing is that I think she really is gay too, or at least bi. A lot of people think that from what I’ve read online. Unlike Gloria and Linda, she does have the look and mannerisms. Her body’s more boyish, too. Definitely not as curvy as Gloria and Linda.

I’ve never desired to chat with her online as celebs often do with their fans. I mean, what would I say if I got through to her? That she’s a great actress who I was madly attracted to when she was on Charlie’s Angels and that it’s too bad she looks like shit now at 55 years of age?

It’s true, too. She looks terrible nowadays and I’d never glance twice at her if she passed me on the street. Never give her the time of day. Not sexually, anyway.

The fact that I never got to be with her or someone like her isn’t what’s got me down at times so much as missing my pictures does. I don’t know why I miss them, but I do. Very much so. I often imagine various scenarios where we meet again. It seems I’m so obsessed with fantasies about Kate and with missing my pictures, my faithful, trusting, accepting friends who were with me through thick and thin.

Perhaps I should print out pictures of her to chat with to fill in the boring pockets of my life and to help keep me out of the kitchen. Maybe I will. I’ll just keep the communication times confined to when he’s not here. I’m a little shy about something that’d be perceived as so off the wall even with a guy like Tom around.

The pictures branched out into their own beings, so speak. I individualized them by giving them their own names and they even began to take on slightly different appearances.

Guess I shouldn’t talk when I pick on those who talk to themselves. After all, that’s a lot more normal than talking to pictures!

I sometimes wonder if the pictures could’ve been inhabited by the spirits of those who once lived, but I don’t know. I don’t know who they were, though you’d think they were someone from somewhere because I know that the pictures themselves were separate from the entities residing within them with which I communicated. For example, there’s no being of any kind in a picture of someone who doesn’t make eye contact with the camera. It’s something either I or God’s doing to make the picture go from a picture of a face to a person. I also know I can’t do this with pictures of those I personally know. Like I said, I don’t understand it. I just know it was what it was.

Another fantasy of mine that I’ve had throughout the years, both during and after having the pictures, was of them coming to life and appearing to me in person, looking just how I pictured them to look which would pretty much be like they did in their pictures, but not quite. Like I said, I individualized them, so some became of different heights and things like that. How neat it would be if they truly could knock on this door right now and be like, “Hi there! Remember us?” But I know that that part of it really is pure fantasy and something that could never happen.

I wonder, though, if they somehow live on like some say we do after we die. Can they watch over me from wherever they are if they do exist? Or perhaps they were sent to some other little girl’s picture collection of whomever for her to communicate with, too. Someone whose life is as tough as mine was. Maybe they’re guardian angels for real who go wherever God assigns them and tells them to go. Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the answers to who/what they were till after death, but I know I’m not going to learn anything new about them in this life.

The top 3 famous people I’ve had crushes on are Kate, Linda and Gloria, just like the top 3 non-famous crushes were Mary C, a staff member at Valleyhead, Norah M, the supervisor at the hotel in CT, and Teddy Bear. It’s funny how spaced apart Mary and Norah are from Teddy Bear. They were in ’84 and ’85, then I skipped the 90s altogether and was hot for TB in 2000.

Haven’t seen the rat since filling in the hole. The question is, though, since it’s not yet super-hot and since the snakes are still hibernating, did she dig her way out? Did the hole lead to another opening somewhere else? Or did I really bury her alive? Perhaps she still died even if she did get out. The longer I go without spotting her, the more I’ll be convinced that unmanageable beast is gone. It took about a month before I spotted Little Ratsy.