We’re having some pretty strange weather. Where it was summery just a few days ago, now it’s wintry all over again. We’ve had nothing but clouds and rain. When I got up this morning at 5:00, it was down to 70º in here. Not that I don’t like rain and pretty cloud formations, but I really wish it wouldn’t rain till August when the monsoons are supposed to be. I don’t want the people that come to see the house tracking mud in here, and worst of all, to see how our front door leaks. I figure that the longer the new people are in here before they discover the leak, the less likely they’ll be to start shit with us about it, not that we’ll stupidly give in as we did before. Meanwhile, we’re getting the house prepped and organized for Monday’s call to the realtor. I decided I’m not going to get too picky with that, though, because the people are coming to see the house, not our stuff or the few crumbs that may be on the counters. They’re seeing what’s still Tom and Jodi’s place, not the Hilton.

The bright side to the rain is that it’s put a damper on the shooters. It’d be ok if it rained tomorrow morning so that it won’t be like last Sunday was. Last Sunday’s shoot-out was totally obnoxious.

Nothing’s sold yet in our store which we got stocked yesterday with 2 dolls, 2 coins, 13 incense packs, and a handful of burners. We’re hopeful that something will sell over the weekend.

In Mary’s last letter to me, she said she didn’t know who that inmate was she asked me to look for, she just wanted to get a rise out of me. Yeah, she made me wonder, alright, if she didn’t have an obsession with criminals. Two or three letters ago she didn’t ask for one single favor. I’d still like it if this could be more of a common occurrence with her.

I worry about her. I mean, she’s just too damn naïve despite how smart she is. “All my dreams are coming true,” she told me in her last letter, pertaining to her and José one day living together in one of Maria’s two houses. First of all, dreams don’t come true for most people who aren’t in jail, so they certainly don’t come true for those who are in jail. Secondly, if she’s even still talking to José when he gets out in something like 10-20 years from now, his parole officer’s not going to go for him living with someone with a criminal record, even if she herself isn’t on probation or parole at the time.

I’ve decided that once we get settled in Oregon or wherever the hell we’re going, I’m going to not starve myself, but eat just enough to live on. Not to lose weight, since I’ve already accepted the fact that most middle-aged mammals are overweight and that’s just a fact of life, but to save even more money. I’m tired of wanting this and wanting that and having limited money to spend. I’d rather let the hunger pains from my monstrous appetite gnaw at me for a while so I can finally get some of the things I’ve been wanting for ages now, like the mannequin and some other dolls. However, if getting porcelain dolls still proves to be the same problem where we move, then I’ll no longer get those. I’m not going to play mail games as far as that goes. They’re not worth the fight and chase bullshit. There are plenty of other things to spend money on.

I finished that book about those New Mexican youths who only did a couple of years in a reformatory for killing Indians, and when I read about one of the rules in the juvenile prison, I was surprised such a rule didn’t exist at Estrella, even in Ad-Seg. The kids weren’t allowed to lie on their bunks all day. They could sit on their beds and lean against the wall, but their feet had to be planted firmly on the floor at all times. Again, because the system and its workers use every little thing they can think of as a means of controlling people, I’m surprised such a rule didn’t exist at Estrella.

It really pisses me off when people are so sure they know why others are a certain way when most of the time they’re dead wrong. Everybody’s so sure that a racist is the way they are out of fear, that a rapist is the way he is out of hate for women, that all people who try to commit suicide do it only for attention, that loners and gays were all sexually abused, and it really pisses me off. In some cases, their theories and beliefs are right on, particularly with the rapists, but everybody’s an individual and it pisses me off when they try to lump people together into one big group like that. It’s just wrong and unfair to assume one’s a certain way because somebody else may be. That’d be like saying Mary’s a hopeless, brainless loser simply because most other inmates truly are hopeless, brainless losers. No inmate I met in the time I was locked up has more potential to fly than Mary herself. She’s a million times smarter and better looking than other inmates, though to me she can still be a bit too trusting and optimistic.